Chapter 77
ALEX
At night, Marcello sat at my bedside and drank scotch. So I’d searched the bathroom cabinets for painkillers and sleeping pills, anything I could get my hands on. I found an entire bottle of prescription sleeping pills hidden inside a vanity drawer.
Sorry, Marcello .
I had to drug him so I could sneak up to the library. Luca was too busy to notice if I left the house for an hour. And he trusted Marcello to monitor me. His brother had never let him down. Luca had no reason to suspect I would cause him any trouble. I was the perfect angel all day.
Marcello sat in the oversized plush armchair by the window. He sipped from his glass and rested it on his knee, staring at me. “Why are you giving me that look?”
I smiled. “I could use a drink.”
He set the highball glass on the table beside him and got up from the chair. “What do you want?”
“Sweet tea.”
Marcello blew out a deep breath and pointed at the bed. “Don’t move.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss man.”
He snickered at my nickname and left my bedroom in a hurry. With only a minute to dump the crushed pills into his drink, I removed the cellophane bag from under my pillow and slid off the bed.
Aiden was alive.
I felt it in my bones.
I was making the right choice.
The Salvatores forced me to do this.
Even though I felt like a horrible person for drugging Marcello, it only seemed fair, considering he had done it to me.
I emptied the bag into his drink and stirred the white powder with my finger.
I heard Marcello’s footsteps approaching my room from a distance.
I shoved the empty bag under my blankets and hopped into bed.
Marcello walked into the room a few seconds later and handed me a glass of sweet tea.
I smiled. “Thanks.”
He winked, then dropped back into his chair, downing half his drink in one gulp. I studied his face as I sipped my tea.
He lifted my sketchbook and a charcoal pencil from the table. “Luca wants you to draw something for him.”
I took it from his hand. “What did he have in mind?”
“He said to surprise him.”
I set my art supplies on the bed and flipped to a new page, hoping the pills would kick in before Luca finished with business. Resting the sketchbook on my thighs, I gripped the charcoal pencil and considered Luca’s latest mood.
You’re not a terrible person.
You’re doing this for your family.
The Salvatores would do the same.
I leaned against the headboard and glided the pencil across the pad. Marcello yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Tired?”
He yawned again. “I haven’t slept in two days.”
Marcello’s head hit the back of the chair a few minutes later. Not long after, his snores cut through the silence. I dropped the sketchpad and pencil on the bed and opened the door, popping my head into the hallway.
At this hour, the house was silent. The sconces burned on the walls, casting a soft glow on the walnut floor.
I glanced at a sleeping Marcello, who looked as beautiful as his brother.
Attempting to steady my rapid breathing, I inched my back along the wall to avoid the camera in the hallway’s corner.
As I ascended the stairs, I held my breath, careful not to make a sound.
My heart hammered in my chest when my feet hit the top landing.
Every nerve ending in my body fired off at once from the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Focused on the task, I slid my back along the wall to avoid the cameras.
At least I had one thing going for me—no guards in the hall, no one protecting the heir to this castle on the sea.
I tiptoed past Luca’s office. His voice boomed through the closed door. Glancing over my shoulder one last time, I slipped inside the library. My eyes swept over the two-story room with vaulted ceilings, scanning the endless cases of books.
On my way across the dusty space, I grabbed a wooden chair from a desk piled high with leather-bound books. I stared at the title on the top, which was Secrets of the Knighthood .
Under different circumstances, I would have sat down and devoured the pages, desperate to learn anything about The Devil’s Knights and their rituals. But I had little time to waste before someone noticed I escaped.
I dragged the chair across the hardwood floor toward the middle bookcase.
All the spines looked similar except for The Count of Monte Cristo , with its navy blue binding and gold writing that stood out amongst the sea of blacks and grays.
I reached for the book, pulled it down, and hopped off the chair.
With my hand on the center shelf, I pushed, and it swung inward.
I stared down at the stone encasement and its narrow spiral staircase that made my mouth go dry.
At least there were lights built into the walls, providing a way.
A pang of anxiety crept up the back of my throat.
I doubted my fear of dark, small spaces would ever go away.
I used the wall for support and crept down the stairs. Pushing the dark thoughts from my mind, I followed the lit pathway. My lungs constricted from the thickness of the air. An earthy scent floated through the cold tunnel beneath the estate, making my nose twitch.
I sneezed several times, covering my mouth to keep the stench from invading my nostrils. Stupid allergies . Navigating the passage, I followed the lights around each bend. The air was thick like fog below ground, so dense I could feel my lungs struggling to keep up.
I walked toward Arlo’s wine room and stopped dead in my tracks. A light inside the room illuminated, and my heart leaped out of my chest. Leaning against the wall, I took a deep breath and peeked through the glass walls encasing the wine bottles.
No one was there.
Afraid to waste another moment, I approached the end of the hallway, where I spotted the secret door.
Almost there . I gripped the heavy steel door, pushing it to the left.
The passageway ceiling was maybe four feet high, forcing me to bend down.
I inched my way into the narrow tunnel and held my breath.
It was too dark.
Too small.
Like a closet.
As I moved toward the beach, the water slapping the rocks grew louder.
Something crawled up my arm. I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle my scream.
Swatting at my arm, I flicked off the bug.
The salty scent I loved hit me in the face.
It reminded me of my first kiss with Luca.
Taking it all in, I breathed in the delicious smell of freedom.
I glanced up at the mansion that loomed over the sea.
Two guards stood farther back from the cliff with their backs to me.
Hidden from the guard’s sight, I stayed close to the rock wall that bordered the Salvatore property.
To get to The Hills, I had to follow the beach to Beacon Bay.
I could take the back alleyway Aiden had shown me last year.
It was the only way to slip out of Devil’s Creek undetected.
The wind whipped through my hair, blowing my curls in my face. My shoes kicked up sand as I jogged toward the wooded area at the end of the beach. I took a right at the giant boulder known as Finnegan’s Rock, where Luca and his friends partied in high school.
I power walked down the hiking trail, ignoring the hoots and howls, the crunching of twigs snapping.
I could handle the animals with fur, but the ones with guns and a thirst for blood worried me more.
Just in case someone followed me, I ran the rest of the way, pushing my body to the edge as I hauled ass through the streets of Beacon Bay.
Weaving through one dark alleyway after another, I found my way into The Hills.
The house I’d shared with Aiden was up the steep incline, right at the center of Devil’s Creek.
I stood outside the modest Colonial-style home with many windows and blue shutters.
The outdoor lights cast a soft glow over the front lawn.
I knocked on the door and gulped down my fear.
No answer.
What if Madeline was wrong?
I knocked once more. As I walked away, the door swung open, and paint fumes floated through the air.
Aiden .
“Can I help you?”
His voice rolled down my spine, burrowing deep into my bones.
I spun around to face him, tears falling from my eyes as I gazed at my missing brother.
His blond curls were longer, perfect spirals like when we were children.
Once he’d hit puberty, he trimmed his hair short.
A long scar dipped beneath his hairline and ran down the right side of his face—a new injury.
Nothing had changed, and yet…
Everything had, including Aiden.
My mouth dropped at the sight of him. “You’re alive?”
He held open the door wider, revealing the large foyer with the same dark hardwood floors and a long staircase that led to the second floor.
“Lexie?” Aiden stepped onto the front porch. “What are you doing here?”
Hot tears slid down my cheeks. “I thought you were dead. And you’ve been here all along? Is this part of some sick game? Did Luca know?”
Of course, he did.
Aiden moved toward me, and I took a few steps back. “I know what you’re thinking.”
I shook my head. “Why would you let me think you were dead? The past year has been hell for me.”
“You don’t understand what it’s been like for me. Things are different now. I’m not the same person.”
“No, you’re not.” I wiped away the never-ending tears. “Because the Aiden I knew would never leave me without warning. He would never band with the Salvatores to play mind-fuck tricks on me.”
“Let me explain,” he said, deflated.
“You made a choice, Aiden.” I inched backward, preparing myself to run from this fucking place. “I never thought you would choose them over me. We’re done. I’m done with all of you.”
“Lexie, wait! Hear me out.”
I bolted across the front lawn. Aiden followed, his long legs closing the distance between us, but he wasn’t fast enough.
“Leave me alone, Aiden,” I shouted as I rushed down the hill, using the steep decline to pick up speed. “I can’t do this right now.”
Luca was right about me.
Whenever shit got tough, I ran.
“Lexie,” Aiden yelled, out of breath.
A black Mercedes van barreled up the hill toward us. My heart slammed into my chest, my pulse racing so fast I thought I would spill my guts on the pavement.
Luca found me .
I tried to run past the van, but the driver swerved, cutting off my path. Before Aiden could reach me, the back door opened. A man got out of the van. I tried to run away from him, but he scooped me into his arms.
The door slid back into place.
Another man grabbed me from the back seat and covered my mouth. His skin stunk of cigars, and for a moment, I hoped it was Luca, even though I had defied him. I struggled, kicking my legs, and two men pinned me down on the bench. The man moved his hand to put a damp rag over my mouth.
“We have Salvatore’s wife,” a man said into a cell phone in broken English.
I struggled against their grip, fighting the scented cloth assaulting my senses. Before my eyes slammed shut, I heard Aiden call out my name over the pounding in my ears.
Aiden was alive.
I found him.
And I would never see him again.