“I didn’t know,” I whispered. “Luca never told me any of this.”
“He wanted you to believe my mother was perfect. You admire her so much… and he didn’t want to ruin the image of your idol.”
“That’s why your father covered up her suicide with a car accident.”
Marcello nodded, then drank from his water. “My dad says all the beautiful women worth chasing after are crazy.” He turned his head, licking his lips. “I think he’s right.”
Now it all made sense. I’d always known I reminded Luca of his mother because of our artistic passions, but this… Wow. I felt as if Marcello dropped the mother of all bombs on my head.
“People with mental illnesses don’t like being called crazy.”
He smirked. “How about passionate?”
“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “I can live with that.” Our fingers brushed as we walked, and I wanted so badly to grab his hand. “When I’m with you, Marcello, I don’t feel crazy. You make me feel safe.”
“And how do you feel with Luca?”
I bit the inside of my cheek as I considered his question. “Hmm… Like my heart is about to explode. Like I can’t breathe, and he’s holding my head underwater.”
“My brother has that effect on most people.” He chuckled. “I guess you can say he’s passionate, too.”
We burst into a fit of laughter. My God, it felt good to relax and enjoy life for a few moments without worrying about the weight of the world crashing down on my shoulders.
“My mom was the best person I’ve ever known,” he said as we made our way to the other side of the bay. “I miss her every day. But she had her moments. Everyone has a weakness, and she didn’t want the world to know about hers.”
“What’s yours?”
Marcello stared at the water. “Feeling out of control.”
“Like Luca.”
He shook his head. “That’s not my brother’s weakness. Luca gains control from feeling out of control.”
“What would you say is his weakness?”
“You.”
Laughter spilled out of me. “If you say so, Marcello.”
We walked for a while in near silence, only exchanging a few words occasionally. Neither of us needed to fill the void, which was nice. I enjoyed being with Marcello, allowing the energy between us to change my mood.
When we reached his special spot, Marcello clutched my shoulders and turned me, so we were facing his estate. The sky was a faint blue, still a little dark in some places, but with a pinkish-orange glow dancing along the horizon.
“Beautiful,” I whispered.
Marcello cupped my shoulders with his strong hands and rested his chin on the top of my head. “I thought you might like this.”
A sudden calm washed over me as I relaxed in his arms, consumed by the high this man provided me. For years, I thought he was just like Luca, but Marcello Salvatore was an enigma. Sure, he had a darkness inside him. We all did. Beneath his chiseled exterior was a lot more than a man capable of violence and cruelty.
“Marcello, I need to know something.”
His body tensed against mine as if he was anticipating this question.
“Is my brother alive?”
I felt him slowly slipping away from me, not just physically but emotionally. What we had shared a moment ago almost seemed like a distant memory as his hands fell from my body, leaving me desperate for his touch.
“If you want answers, marry my brother. Swear the oath, become our queen, and then we will tell you everything.”
“What if I don’t want to be a queen?”
His fingers dug into my hip, and he spun me around. “You were born to be our queen, Alex. This is your legacy, your duty, as it is mine to serve you.”
“So far, I haven’t lived up to my family’s expectations, and I won’t start now.”
“We’re keeping a lot of secrets from you,” Marcello admitted. “Decide how badly you want to know them. Marrying Luca is the only way.”
When I returned to Devil’s Creek, I promised myself I would drag the Devil back to Hell with me. And the Knights were giving me a way to destroy the Salvatores from the inside out.
I knew Aiden would fail. I designed the tests for him to come crawling back to me on his knees, begging for a second chance. He had one option, and I would give it to him—because of her.
I walked over to Aiden’s hospital bed, staring down at him with the same hatred he showed me. He had wires connected to his arms, machines beeping with his heart rate and pulse.
“You’re in luck,” I told him. “This is your second chance at life.”
A mixture of pain and disgust tugged at his features. He swiped a hand over his face and groaned because I was the last person he wanted to see when he woke up from a coma.
“What do you want, Salvatore?”