18. Ophelia
OPHELIA
Every time I shut my eyes, I see the knife doused in fresh blood. I see the body thumping to the ground, their mouth opening and closing helplessly as they choke on their own blood.
Even when I open my eyes, I see the chaos. The attack is plastered across the internet. Clicking on my phone, I see breaking news announcements from news channels.
“Moretti Global under attack as employees grieve for the deceased.”
“A peaceful memorial turns into a bloodbath.”
“Two dead, three sustaining life-threatening injuries."
An incoming call from Sapphire jolts me from my trance. I answer, raising the device to my ear.
“Oh my god, Phee, I just got off shift,” she gasps. “The ER was terrible.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine. “Are any more people dead?”
“Not yet,” she says. “But it’s not looking good.” She pauses for a beat. “You could have lost your life last night.”
“I was at the top of the building with Salvatore. We were heading back down to the memorial, and it was chaos, like a bloodbath.”
“I’m coming over.”
“No, you need to sleep after your night shift.”
“I’m fine, but you are not.”
“I’m… okay. I’ll feel better when Salvatore leaves the station. According to some news sources, he’s still with the police.” I tap some notifications while on call to Sapphire, scrolling through paparazzi shots of Salvatore being lowered into a police car.
Nausea rolls through me, my throat turning dry. Salvatore has murdered people, and now he has been taken in for questioning.
What if the person behind the attack was trying to set him up?
“Are you still with me?” asks Sapphire, horns blaring down the phone as she paces home.
“Yeah, still here.”
“You have to stay the fuck away from that building, from Salvatore, from all of it.”
“Salvatore was actually in the process of firing me when the attack started. But I can’t think about that right now,” I say, sitting back into bed. “People lost their lives. Families are grieving.”
“You’re incredibly lucky to be alive.”
The nausea turns to guilt. I sit in bed, staring into the abyss, hating myself for not acting, for listening to Salvatore and running.
I could have helped. By leaving that person to die on the floor, I failed their family.
I chose myself. I prioritized my own safety and needs.
I paid my respects to the dead by being selfish.
“I should try and get some sleep,” I say, sliding down the headboard. “I’ll speak to you later.”
I end the call, tossing my phone aside. I stare vacantly into space, my pulse beating rapidly as I relive last night.
I was curled up under Salvatore’s desk for a while, clutching my heart. I felt as though it was going to jump right out of my chest.
I wondered if Salvatore was even still alive. The pain was unbearable, like a cold ache in my chest.
I heard he was taken to the station, and the ache has subsided, but now I’m panicking about other things.
He had a knife on him…
I reach for my phone, scrolling through endless notifications. I could scroll through social media forever. Everyone and their mom is talking about the attack, about the victims who tragically lost their lives.
I throw away the covers, leaping out of bed. The truth is unfortunately very clear—someone is trying very hard to keep the Crows a secret.
Salvatore was right. I was being too messy. I left a trail, and because of my carelessness, innocent people have died.
A tear forms in my eye. I feel sick to my stomach as I walk into the bathroom, unable to look at my reflection. I brush my teeth in silence, averting my eyes from the mirror. Staring at a spot behind the sink, I notice my birth control pills, abandoned, shoved into the corner.
“You might want to start taking birth control,” is what Salvatore told me after I spilled the coffee.
I shove those thoughts aside for the time being.
There’s only so much one person can handle, and I’m already on the verge of having a fucking breakdown, which is incredibly overdramatic.
People lost their lives last night. I can deal with a possible pregnancy scare and a full-blown mental breakdown.
Shuffling back into my bedroom, I throw on simple clothes and rummage through my shoe collection until I find a pair of flats.
I head out onto the streets of New York wearing the biggest pair of sunglasses I own.
The air is humid, heat trapped between the buildings.
I focus on putting one foot in front of the other as I head to Central Park.
I need to tune out the world for a moment, to lose myself in nature.
Living in New York City can make that difficult, but I work with what I have and wander through the park, inhaling sap, exhaling all the tension out of my shoulders.
But each breath I take, the worse I feel.
I see the knife again, the blood, the white mixing with the red…
I’m far too entangled with Salvatore’s world. I know too much. He was supposed to throw me over the edge of his building, not tell me about his life and make me care.
My heart hurts for someone evil. Salvatore has committed all kinds of sins, but all I see is the broken man underneath who can be fixed. To be broken is to be human, and I feel honored to know this side of him, no matter how twisted all of this is.
A message pings through on my phone. My heart misses a beat, hoping Salvatore has messaged, even though I don’t have his number.
AUNT VIV: Please give me a ring. I’m here any time you need to talk.
I click off my phone, guilt striking through my chest. I focus on the trees, on the birds bouncing across the branches.
According to Aunt Viv, taking deep breaths is meant to be the best form of medicine, but the deeper I breathe, the more I see the knife, the dripping blood, the dead body abandoned on the floor.
I make a U-turn on the path, heading away from the trees and leaving the park.
I decide to catch the subway to the Financial District, shuffling along the platform in my flats while I wait for the train to arrive.
“The sun continues to shine, even when someone gets burned,” says my mother, her voice so clear it almost feels like she’s right beside me.
I hop onto the subway when it arrives, taking my exit ten minutes later.
Climbing the stairs is a challenge. I lug myself up each step, holding onto the rail as my center of gravity changes. Returning to the scene of the crime was a bad idea, but anything is better than walking through Central Park, pretending I’m okay.
Police tape flaps in the breeze as I approach the building.
I watch forensics walk into the building, gathering evidence.
The entire street has been made a crime scene, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I have well and truly fucked up.
I could have saved lives. I could have reported the Crows, filed a case against Salvatore, but I chose to stay silent instead and take off my clothes for a man who makes me feel truly seen.
A hand snakes around my waist, turning me around. I recognize the touch and feel an instant wave of relief.
“What are you doing here?” Salvatore’s voice is low, full of concern.
“You’re supposed to be at the station.”
“They let me go.” Salvatore extends his vision, scanning the scene. “Come,” he says, guiding me further down the street. “We should go somewhere more private.”
“We? I thought I was fired.”
Salvatore ignores my comment for the time being, encouraging me to follow him across the street, where a black car is waiting for him.
He opens the backseat door for me, ushering me in.
I gaze through the blackout windows when he closes the door, seeing now why he was so quick to guide me away from the building. Paparazzi are loitering around the corner, waiting to make news.
Salvatore clambers into the other side of the car, sitting across from me in the backseats. He stares at the seat in front of him, slipping into a world of his own.
“What am I doing here?” I ask as the car merges back onto the road
“Consider yourself un-fired.”
“What?”
“The leader of the Crows is angry.”
“The leader?” I repeat. “How can you be sure there is a new leader?”
“The attackers were just boys. I cornered one last night, ripping off his shirt. The Crow tattoo across his chest was fresh, which means the Crows rebuilt only recently.”
“And who’s the leader?”
Salvatore works his jaw, staring through the window. “The boy shot himself.”
“He’s sworn to secrecy?”
“Yes,” says Salvatore, still refusing to look at me.
I stare at him. For a man who loves to make eye contact at every opportunity, asserting his authority, this is odd.
“What the hell happened at the police station?” A more pressing thought pops into my head. “What about the knife you were carrying?”
“Don’t worry,” he assures me, finally making eye contact. “It’s all been taken care of.”
“How exactly?”
“I know how to cover my tracks. The point is—I’m free and the cops are investigating the situation.”
I read his face, finally starting to understand those pages of literature. “You never told them about the Crows?”
“Reporting organized crime to the police is the worst thing you can do. These days, it wouldn’t surprise me if the police have something to hide themselves. Playing dumb is smart,” says Salvatore.
“And what about when the police conduct strip-searches? These boys have identical tattoos.” I flash Salvatore a sidelong glare.
“This could go incredibly south. What if a previous hookup remembers your tattoo, a masseur? All it takes is one person…” The rest of that sentence dies on my tongue as I watch the biggest smile crawl onto Salvatore’s face. “What?”
“Why are you so concerned, Sunshine? Everything is under control.”
“Everything is most certainly not under control. People are dead, Salvatore.”
“What happened to you calling me ‘sir?’”
“I think we’re way past the point of professionalism.”
“Are we?” teases Salvatore, sitting back into his seat. “People live, others die. Sometimes, there is nothing we can do.”
“For a start, I should have ignored you and helped that person on the floor.”
“Who was already dead.” Salvatore stares dead into my eyes, contemplating something. “You cannot save the deceased, Sunshine.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Salvatore looks over my outfit, paying particular attention to my heels.
“Where are we going?”
“Back to my place.”
“I don’t think we should—”
“You know too much about the Crows, sweetheart, and the new leader is coming after you. Sniffing around Queens, visiting an investigative journalist and being my assistant, along with my supposed lover, puts you in danger. The attack last night was personal. The new leader killed my employees because he is warning me, showing me a taste of what is to come.”
“And what is that?”
“He will destroy Moretti Global, along with other… things.”
“Like?”
Salvatore glances at me sidelong, grinding his jaw. “My business is a front. And, as I said last night, if someone knocks me, I have a very long way to fall. And I want you nowhere near me when that fall happens, because you will get hurt.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do…” Salvatore trails off. “Besides, sweetheart, you have been digging. Last night’s attack has complicated everything. You are in danger, which means you need to stay where it’s safe.”
“And where is that?”
“Right by my side.”
The driver kills the engine as we arrive at our destination.
Salvatore kicks open the door, handing the driver a ridiculous amount of cash. After paying the driver, he circles around the vehicle, opening the car door for me, offering out his hand.
I tremble, suddenly realizing how personal this is getting.
I accept his hand, his rough skin bristling my palm as we lace hands, heading inside together.
At least in Moretti Global, I got to be someone different. Walking into his penthouse apartment, I no longer feel like his assistant, like someone special.
I just feel like another girl he’s bringing home.