54. 54 – Enzo – one year later
“E NZO!”
Ignoring the furious bellow from upstairs, I carefully press down, watching the viscous red liquid flow from the perfect cut I’ve made along Timothy Chalmer’s arm. He wails behind his gag, and I let out a trilling burst of song which roughly follows the sound of his scream.
He shuts up pretty quickly. I’m almost disappointed.
“Cut the other side, so it matches.” My little prey is perched on a table on the other side of the room, carefully keeping out of reach of any accidental sprays. Instead, she’s offering advice. This is a particularly fun one for both of us, since she acted as the bait.
A perfect set-up.
A dark, quiet alley, a timid girl walking home from work on a late night, and Timmy was hog-tied in the back of the truck before he even touched her.
My prey has a knack for enticing bad men.
I should know.
I was one of them.
Maverick bellows again, and Zella tilts her head. “What did you do?” she asks flatly, and I purse my lips.
“Nothing.”
I have a feeling I know what this is about, but I’m keeping my cards close to my chest.
I move on to carving a smiley face into Timmy’s chest, using his nipples as a guide. Snot slides out of his nose, and I recoil.
Blood? No issue.
Vomit? Meh.
Snot? Hard fucking limit.
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him, and I toss a cloth over his head so I don’t have to look at his sniveling little face anymore.
The door slams upstairs, and Zella winces.
“Somebody’s in trouble,” she sings. Really badly.
My little prey is not, in fact, a songbird. It’s interesting, all these little things that you learn when you’re completely obsessed over someone. Like how she chews the inside of her cheek when she’s telling a lie, or how she dances like an awkward chicken.
It’s adorable. She thinks she has perfect rhythm.
I’ll never tell her.
I sigh as Maverick comes storming in, barely glancing at the beautifully carved soon-to-be-corpse on my table.
“Please, do come in,” I mutter.
“You sneaky fucker,” he roars.
Zella clears her throat, and he blanches when he turns and she gives him a waggle of her fingers.
“What are you – why is she here?” he demands, and I click my tongue.
Who am I to deny the bloodthirsty urges of our soulmate?
When I don’t answer, Maverick pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing. “I found the records. You asshole.”
Ah.
“What records?” Zella asks, and his mouth drops open.
“You didn’t even tell her?”
Sighing, I wipe my hands and turn. “Little prey. We’re married.”
They both stare at me in silence. Zella looks bemused. “Are we? I don’t remember. Don’t I have to wear a dress for that? And… consent?”
“You should ,” Maverick says darkly. “But somebody decided to change the records at the Clerk’s Office. Just went on in and updated them.”
“So… we’re married?” Zella asks me, her smile growing on her face. I see Maverick’s jaw ticking.
“Relax,” I say shortly. “We’ll get a divorce in a year.”
Zella’s face falls, and I roll my eyes. “So you can marry one of them,” I clarify. “Figured we could take it in turns.”
God knows the government isn’t intelligent enough to recognize that monogamy is only one of the many options available. Although I did feel a small amount of glee when I saw our names recorded together. Zella decided to keep her name, so she’s Zella Aria Cooper on her identification.
Zella Aria Cooper & Enzo Gambino.
I kind of like it.
Zella jumps off the table and snuggles under Maverick’s arm. “We’ll do it properly,” she promises him, laughter in her voice.
He sighs, wrapping his arm around her. “On the beach.”
She stiffens, her eyes lighting with interest. “The beach?”
“Mmmm. How’s your travel list coming along?”
Zella shifts. “Um. There’s a lot of pins on it.”
“How many?”
She coughs delicately into her fist. “Maybe… a hundred?”
When we stare at her, she shrugs helplessly. “I can’t help it! Everywhere looks so exciting. And the Googirl keeps suggesting new places, and they all look so good .”
“That fucking Googirl,” I mutter, and she points at me.
“Leave her alone,” she says firmly. “She’s my best friend.”
I blink. “You need to meet more people.”
Sniffing indignantly, she turns for the door. “You just wait,” she calls back airily. “You’ll eat your words, Enzo. Our trip is going to be ah-ma-zing .”