Crescendo (Beautiful Monsters Book 1)

by Lana Sky

  “It doesn’t really fucking matter why,” Arno growls, stepping forward. His eyes gleam, and for the first time, I see the family resemblance between Lucifer and him. If Dante is a fallen angel, then Arno is the lost soul he met on his way down to hell. “I told the fucker to stop. He didn’t, and he got what he deserved.”

  Mack grunts out a chuckle. “A knife to the chest?”

  Arno shrugs. “You’re right. It should have been my bullet in his brain.”

  “N-No.” I don’t realize that I’ve even spoken up until I’m shoved behind Lucifer.

  “Shut up,” someone growls at me, though I don’t know if it’s him or Arno.

  “Is there a problem?” Dante asks, his voice hard and cold. Mack is grinning and dangerous in his rage, but Lucifer... He is ice and fire swirling into one unstable inferno. I watch as he cracks his neck while flexing the fingers of his right hand.

  “There won’t be,” Mack admits, “just as long as Dino’s bastard pup is willing to accept the punishment for taking the life of his fellow man. I’ll think about it, but I hope he’s grown some balls since the days he used to beg his daddy not to throw him in the cage.”

  “Take your time,” Arno snarls. “I’ll pay your fucking price.”

  “You will,” Mack agrees. “But for now, enjoy the spoils of your war, Kitty. For now.”

  Before I can blink, Dante already has me outside, and I struggle to keep up as he barrels toward the garage with Arno on his heels. A few other men follow, but their wary glances at the bar reveal where their loyalties lie. The devil may not be their king, but he’s a hard leader to resist. I can’t take my eyes off him, and he wrenches open the door to the garage and shoves me inside.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Nothing,” Arno grunts.

  Bracing my hand against the staircase, I glance at them from over my shoulder. “I did it. I killed him. He tried to—”

  “I killed him,” Arno insists, slapping a hand against his chest. “You challenge that, girlie, and you’re calling me a fucking liar.” His eyes flash with warning, but Dante steps forward, effectively placing himself between us.

  “I have your back,” he tells Arno.

  “That’s all I fucking ask.” With one last glare at me, he turns and storms out. The men still crossing the field fall into step behind him, and it’s just me and the devil left watching from the doorway.

  “You killed him?” Dante asks me, though I can’t tell what he thinks. His expression is stone.

  I nod. My hand shakes and I glance down to find it still painted red with blood. Though, is it really there? I rub my fingers together, but I only feel skin. “I killed him...”

  The world sways with the force of that admission. Daniela Manzano was a killer. She stabbed a man in cold blood. She looked into his eyes as the life drained from them. She didn’t even feel regret...

  Because if anyone else dared to challenge the promise etched into her flesh, she would probably kill them too.

  “Come here.” Lucifer grabs my arm and hauls me up the stairs and inside the apartment, locking the door behind us. “Look at me.”

  He steers me around to face him, his eyes boring deep. I don’t know what he finds in mine that makes him draw closer. Or what makes him drag his thumb across my lower lip, raising a fire that sears me down to the core.

  He doesn’t stop me when I step forward, pressing my face into his chest. He doesn’t hold me either or comfort me the way Vinny would—pet names and petting. He lets me breathe him in, however. He lets me brace my fingers against his chest, leeching off his heat. He lets me feel his heartbeat.

  He lets me break...which I do in bits and pieces. Puppets spend their lives dangling from so many strings that they’re unsure of which emotions to feel during certain moments. Most people probably wouldn’t snicker knowing they’ve killed a man.

  Though most people wouldn’t be comforted by clinging to a more proficient killer, either.

  I haven’t shared a bed with anyone since the days I used to creep into my parent’s room as they slept. I still remember how warm the spot between them had been, basted by the heat of their love. I had never felt safer than I did at that moment...at least until Lucifer drags me to the bed and climbs in beside me, his arm pinning my waist to his side.

  He doesn’t acknowledge the act out loud; I’m merely just a bone he forgot to unclamp from his jaws. Regardless, it’s an awkward exercise to fit his bulk on the mattress beside mine. He has to curve himself against me in order to keep his feet from dangling off the bed. I’m left paralyzed while his heat bathes my body in years of sin, and I know deep down that I’ll never be able to erase his scent from my lungs. Or this memory from my head—which is a double-edged sword.

  The devil is a drug from which there is no cure. No rehab. No recovery.

  Weighed down by the souls he’s damned, he’s restless in his sleep, mumbling meaningless words into my neck and dragging his fingers through my hair roughly. At some point during the night he holds me so tightly I fear my ribs might break.

  In the end, they don’t...but my heart does. Old fear coats the ruined pieces, and once again I feel a horrible sense that none of this will last. Vinny will have the last laugh. I’ll never have a moment like this again.

  The thought makes me hold him tighter. I wish I wasn’t too sore to take him again. I’d make him fuck the darkness from my skull and chase the fear away. I’d make him own me until I cease to remember anything—or anyone—else before him. My fingers twitch at the prospect, and I glance up, observing the planes of his face through the darkness.

  Within a second I know that I don’t have the heart to wake him. The devil is as exhausted as he is powerful. I think of those dark days when he huddled on his bed in terror. I wonder if he’s ever had a good night’s sleep. When I drag my fingers along his chin he doesn’t wake, but his brow furrows, resisting any comfort even while unconscious.

  I’m halfway toward caressing a trail to his nose when a sudden sound breaks the quiet. I flinch, bolting upright, but the devil at my side doesn’t even stir. My first thought is that one of Mack’s men is trying to break in, but the sound is too...musical? It’s a sharp, mechanical melody, like that of a ringtone.

  Rolling to the edge of the mattress, I scour the room, but the only clue I have is a strange whirring sound that comes from the duffle Espi gave me, tucked against the wall. Faint light of dawn creeps in through the window and guides my way to the corner of the room. I unzip the bag and find something at the bottom of it that I had missed during my first search. It’s a cell phone, small and pink. A yellow sticky-note obscures the screen and the note scribbled across it reads: I’ve got this number programmed into mine. If you need anything, give me a ring, Pyro.

  A tired smile shapes my mouth. When I peel the note away, the name Espisido lights up the screen as an incoming call. After a glance over my shoulder to make sure Dante’s still sleeping I creep into the hallway and into the bathroom. I run the water in the sink at full blast, and then I tentatively bring the receiver to my ear and answer the call.

  “Espi?”

  “Lynn,” a gruff voice replies. “‘Pyro Girl.’ Somehow I knew it was you.”

  My entire world stops spinning. Time is reduced to nothing. Only the sound of rushing water ties my soul to the present as, as if from far away, I hear a strange woman speak. “V-Vinny.”

  “It’s a shame, Mi Bella,” he croons into my ear, his voice disrupted by static. “I hate to punish you, but it is the only way you seem to learn.” My stomach drops, even before he murmurs the next words the same way a caring teacher might announce the day’s lesson. “You are going to listen, Mi Bella, while I kill this man. At first, I assumed he was the bastard you fucked, but at least when I cut his balls off you will remember your purpose...”

  I hear screaming, distinctly male. The sound battles with the running water, piercing my eardrums, and my blood runs cold with recognition. Espi!

&nbs
p; “No! No! Vinny, no!” I lean forward as my voice comes out as a strangled whisper. In an instant, Daniela dies, and Lynn is resurrected in her place. She knows the only way to Vincent Stacatto’s twisted, black soul is to beg. “Please. Please. Please. Don’t hurt him. Please—”

  “Give me one reason why,” Vinny commands, his accent riding the words more strongly than I have ever heard it. These past few days have strained his control, and when Espi shouts again, I know that Vinny’s the reason why.

  You are going to listen, Mi Bella, while I kill this man.

  “M-Me,” I manage to croak. “I’ll come back to you. I’m the one you want. Please. Let him go. Please. I love you, please—”

  “You love me,” Vinny growls, a laugh tainting the words as if they were some sick joke. “Were you thinking about me these past few days, Daniela? Were you thinking about my love when you threw my goddamn ring?”

  Espi cries out—no, an animal does, releasing a plaintive, inhuman howl, high-pitched with pain...

  “P-Please,” I beg, but my voice has gone cold. I’m reading from an old script that I had thought I’d never have to open again. Lynn knows Vinny. She knows how to keep his hand steady when he aches to slap her. She knows how to get on her hands and knees. “I...I d-deserve to be punished,” I hear myself say. “I’m so sorry, Vinny, but please don’t hurt him. I’ll come back. I’ll come back.”

  For a moment, I hear nothing but static and the only ounce of comfort I have is that the screaming’s trailed off. For now.

  “You have thirty minutes,” Vinny tells me. “If you’re a minute late, I’ll kill him and drape his body over your bed as a present for when you come home.”

  “Thirty minutes,” I repeat, sounding so damn hollow. “Thank you, Vinny...”

  He hangs up, and time begins to tick again with mocking speed. I’m numb as I climb from the toilet with the phone clenched in my fist. I’m a ghost, drifting through the air when I reenter the bedroom and spot Lucifer on the bed, still asleep.

  My mouth opens...but no sound will come out. Lynn may not be as brave as Daniela, but she isn’t stupid. If I brought Dante or his men, Vinny would know...hell, I think he expected it. Espi was a toy—but Dante was the real object of his rage. Only God knew what he would do to him. He’d chop the devil into pieces and make me swallow them.

  And Dante...there was no way in hell he wouldn’t fight for Espi. He would meet Vinny head-on like a true beast, and he would die. He would die...and I would be forced to watch.

  And I couldn’t. My soul was a fragile shell, and I knew without a doubt that nothing would be left of it if this man died because of me. My beautiful fallen angel wouldn’t miss one less lost soul, but he would never survive without Espi.

  And preventing that was worth any sacrifice.

  Vinny’s timeline is in my head as I grit my teeth and search the duffle for a fresh sweatshirt that isn’t covered in blood. In my search, I find another object that I missed—a book of matches with a smiling cartoon moose on the front, and I can’t stop myself from tucking it into my pocket.

  Espi. I have to bite the pain and guilt back as I stagger into the living room and cram my feet into my borrowed shoes. I leave the shower in the bathroom running and close the door, hoping the ruse is enough to keep the devil off my trail for even a second.

  That’s all I need.

  When I creep into the main garage, the devil hasn’t stirred. It’s a silent trek out into the field where Mack’s men patrol the perimeter, but they’re lax this early, and none of them notice when I reach a section of fence and climb over.

  Thirty minutes. Twenty. Ten.

  The deadline spurs me onward while I run right back to the hell I knew deep in my soul that I could never really escape.

  One minute to spare and it’s only the grace of a switching traffic light that allows me to reach the intersection near the hotel while the final seconds count down. Fifty. Thirty. Ten. Three. When I finally cross the street, my heart is pounding in my chest—however, the moment my heel strikes the curb, the cell phone in my pocket rings, marking the end of this round of the game.

  “Very good, Mi Bella,” Vinny praises once I answer it. His voice trembles. He’s excited. He’s...he’s in a mood. “I’m in the car,” he tells me, just as I spot a familiar vehicle lurking a few blocks ahead. “Walk toward it.”

  “Wait,” I croak, dragging my feet the way a child tries to desperately stave off her punishment. “Let him go first...please. Then I’m yours.”

  A growl nips at my words. No one ever tells Vinny what to do and lives for the insult—but my old friend is as calculating as he is cold. He may be able to see me, but he can’t be certain that I haven’t brought along anyone who might be lurking out of sight. At this moment I hold the power, and I can almost hear him tallying up the pros and cons. Was getting me back really worth losing his leverage so soon?

  I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath until the car door opens and a tall figure finally staggers out. Any fear that he could be Vinny or one of his men is dashed once he hits the ground on his knees. In the end, it takes him five tries to stand upright, and when he turns to me, I see why. Where several fingers of his right hand used to be are now just bloody stumps.

  My, how that scarlet substance seems so different outside of the devil’s domain. It’s redder here. Harsher. More violent. Espi leaves a brutal ruby trail behind, and I don’t know how I manage to stay standing when he staggers toward me, his eyes widening with recognition. “N-No.” Shaking his head, he tries to turn back, but I’m on him before he can even make it halfway.

  Up close, I smell the blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. His left eye is swollen shut, and I can’t tell how badly hurt he might be beneath his sweatshirt. When I seize a handful of his collar and shove him past me, he’s too weak to resist. “Run,” I tell him without looking back.

  “No. Don’t do this, Danny,” his voice is only a strained whisper, and I hesitate for a single moment. How easy would it be to run, I wonder as I glance along the deserted street. Though, how easy would it be for Vinny to hunt us both down?

  “Please, Espi. Run for me,” I choke out, taking a painful step forward. “And don’t stop running until they’re gone.”

  I don’t look back to see if he listened. With my eyes on the black car, I keep walking, drawing out every last step to give him enough time. Vinny isn’t oblivious to the tactic, and static blares from the phone still in my grip.

  “I’m waiting, Daniela,” he snaps when I bring the receiver to my ear. “My patience is wearing thin.”

  I force myself to walk faster, and I pray to god that Espi is already gone by the time I finally reach the black car. As if in slow motion, the door to the backseat opens and a man climbs out, his expression wary—Gino.

  “Ms. Manzano,” he greets, holding the door open for me.

  I’m not sure how much time passes before I climb inside. Seconds? Minutes? An eternity?

  Freedom doesn’t want to loosen its hold on me, just yet. It lingers, taunting me with all the new memories I’ve gained during my time spent outside my cage. Lucifer’s words are still in my head. His scent still fills my lungs, and maybe that musk is what gives me the strength to curl my knees and collapse onto a leather seat across from a man I somehow always knew that I could never escape.

  Vinny watches me without a shred of emotion. He is stone, his eyes darker than coals, as he reaches into the pocket of his crisp, designer suit jacket and withdraws something that glints in the light filtering in through the tinted windows. He makes sure that I recognize it before he slips it on the index finger of his left hand—or at least as far as he can, forcing it just past the bed of the fingernail. It’s my ring.

  Fixated on the diamond, I almost miss the telltale jerk of his shoulder right before he slaps me and the blow catches me unguarded across my cheek. The icy pain searing across the bridge of my nose warns me that he broke the skin. Unsatisfied, he strikes me again, so h
ard my body is flung across the seat and blood floods my mouth. Old habits die hard, and I wipe the droplets away with the back of my hand before they can taint the leather upholstery. Without a word, Vinny waits until my blurring vision clears before he slips off the ring and returns it to his pocket. Then he glances over at the man still holding the car door open and jerks his chin toward the main road.

  “Hunt that motherfucker down and put a bullet in his head,” he says, ordering Espi’s death the same way one might order coffee.

  Nodding, Gino takes off, and I can’t see anything through the windows when I fling myself against one, bracing both hands flat. I struggle to scream away, hoping my voice manages to escape. “Espi, run! Espi run—”

  Vinny growls, and I hear his fist fly through the air, landing like a missile against the back of my skull. Black. Pain explodes behind my temples, but by then my head is already floating. I’m drifting...weightless. And for a brief, blissful second, I almost believe that he actually killed me.

  But when I partially regain consciousness on the floor of the car I feel his hand stroking my throbbing cheek.

  As if escape would be that easy.

  I can still smell the bitch. The loss of her heat is what wakes me up, and my fingers are already on fire as my eyes finally open. Red prickles my vision the moment I sense she’s not in the room—but I’m more pissed when I realize just who the irritation is directed at. For some reason, it isn’t at the bitch with the shower running, once again eager to wash me away.

  Fuck her...

  My cock wants to. It throbs for that stupid cunt, and I scan the room on the off chance that I might find my balls somewhere close by. For all I knew, she hacked them off in my sleep—it’s the only goddamn reason that can explain lying beside her on this fucking bed. Instead, I find her knife on the mattress, and I grab it, clenching the handle as I consider ending this game now on my say-so.