The Devil I Hate (Devil's Knights 1)

He turned his piercing gaze on me, slicing deep into my chest with one look. “I jumped once. The drop isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“Why would you do that?”

Luca rolled his broad shoulders, and my eyes wandered down his thick biceps that bulged beneath his fitted shirt. “To get away from my dad.”

“How did you survive the fall?” I gulped down more champagne and pointed below us. “That has to be at least a hundred feet to the beach.”

“I had a parachute,” he said as if that were a normal thing people kept around the house. “I thought I could make it across the bay without him finding me.”

“Did you make it?”

He laughed like a villain from a horror movie, a loud cackle that pierced my eardrum. It sounded so unusual for him. Luca didn’t strike me as someone who laughed or smiled often. And if I had to guess, each scar he’d earned drained his happiness.

“Not a fucking chance,” he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. “There’s no escaping Arlo Salvatore. Once you’re in Devil’s Creek, he owns you.”

“Did your dad do that to your back?”

His head turned in my direction. “Pain is weakness leaving the body. Once you understand that, it doesn’t hurt as much.”

My mouth fell open in shock, but I got the impression Luca said things to scare me. He was too old to have his father punish him like a child, but he didn’t seem to mind taking a beating. Did he enjoy inflicting pain on others? Was he just as sick and twisted as his father? I wondered if it were possible to overcome something like that and then thought of my own scars. Though, no one would ever see mine.

“I get off on doing bad things,” he said after a long pause. “It gives me a high like no other. And as a kid, I got punished for them. That’s why I jumped.”

I handed him the bottle. “What made your dad so mad you jumped off a cliff?”

When his fingers wrapped around the bottle, they brushed mine. Sparks of electricity skated up my arm. He glanced down at our joined fingers for a moment. I dropped my hand, and he tipped the bottle to his mouth.

“I took my dad’s Maserati out for a test drive.” He smirked. “I didn’t have a driver’s license. When I came home, he…” His expression turned grim, tugging at his stony features. “Well, you can guess what happened next.”

“I would jump, too, if my dad did that to me.”

“I know what your parents have done to you,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Your scars are on the inside, and that kind of pain hurts much worse.”

Despite his confession, his voice was like a melody, deep, smooth, and oddly comforting. I let his words roll over me, closing my eyes for a few seconds, listening to the water crash against the beach. He understood me in ways no one ever had, not even my twin brother. For the first time in years, I felt at ease around a stranger. Making friends was impossible with my past. But with Luca, I could lower the carefully constructed walls I’d built to keep people away.

When our eyes locked, he looked at me without judgment, only understanding. How did he know about my childhood? All the late nights screaming for help. The dark, locked closets. My mother’s laughter on the other side of the door. Aiden banging on the wall for her to let me out.

“My family isn’t like yours,” I said, though I wasn’t so sure my statement held much truth.

Luca sipped from the bottle. “Why do you think you’re here? You’re the only granddaughter of a Founder. You are one of us. You belong to us.”

“No, I don’t,” I challenged.

Luca ran a hand over his strong jaw, his eyes on the bay. “Our families decided our futures a long time ago.”

“I just met my grandparents for the first time this summer. This is a vacation. I’m leaving for art school with my brother next month.”

He released a dark chuckle. “This is fate. Not a chance meeting or a vacation. How do you think you got into that fancy art school?”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I applied.”

Luca shook his head. “You’re talented. But a recommendation from the Franco Foundation goes a long way at RISD.”

His mother’s charity.

“What are you talking about?”

He handed over the bottle with a smirk. “I made sure you got into that school.”

After reading Evangeline Franco had attended the Rhode Island School of Design, I wanted so badly to follow in her footsteps. I downloaded everything I could about the school and spent years planning my future. RISD only accepted the best of the best.

So I worked my ass off, praying they would see my potential. And knowing the Salvatores had somehow influenced their decision made all of my efforts seem like they were pointless. The air siphoned from my lungs as I considered his words. I really thought I’d gained acceptance on my own.