The Devil I Hate (Devil's Knights 1)

I stabbed a few fries with my fork. “Do you know another story about their parents’ accident?”

“The owners of a multi-billion dollar aerospace empire should have known better than to get on a plane with faulty parts.” She held up her hands and shrugged. “You know what I’m saying, girl?”

“Accidents happen, right?”

She smirked. “Bastian and Damian run the company, but Arlo Salvatore is still Chairman of Atlantic Airlines. Convenient, don’t you think?”

“He wouldn’t kill their parents and then adopt them.”

Would he?

Who knew with Arlo? He wanted people indebted to him.

“If the rumors are true,” she said in a hushed tone, “a terrorist organization killed their parents.”

I wasn’t sure why she was spilling her guts to a stranger, which made me a little uneasy. Did Luca put her up to this? He loved playing games.

“Devil’s Creek must have been a big change for you,” I said to switch the subject. “It’s nothing like California.”

“I’m not a fan of Connecticut. It’s too cold here. I miss the sunshine and the beaches back home.”

“I miss a lot of things about Haven.” I popped a fry into my mouth and chewed. “Like my weekly appointments with my mentor. We were in the middle of a chapel restoration before I moved to Devil’s Creek.”

“Your paintings remind me of Evangeline Franco. I see the same beautiful sadness in them.”

A smile stretched the corners of my mouth. “She inspired a lot of my art. I worked at her foundation for a few years before I moved back to Haven.”

“Look,” Kali whispered, her eyes darting around the crowded restaurant. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you need to be careful. The people in the Salvatores’ lives seem to die or mysteriously disappear. Death surrounds them.”

“Why, what happened?”

Kali shook her head with a sickened look on her face. “For starters, they covered up Evangeline’s death.”

“She died in a car accident,” I challenged.

“No, Evangeline Franco committed suicide.”

“But...” I struggled to find the right words. “Are you sure?”

My new friend nodded. “It’s true.”

“She wouldn’t kill herself,” I said with certainty. “Not when she was weeks away from her first exhibit at Tate Modern.”

“Strange things happen in this town.” Kali clicked her tongue. “People go missing and never come back. Some die from fatal accidents, and others overdose on drugs.”

My eyebrows rose in disbelief of her knowledge. I’d known Luca for ten years and hadn’t been privy to this information. He obviously didn’t feel our relationship was important enough to share with me.

I drew a breath from between my teeth. “How do you know all of this?”

“Bastian talks in his sleep.” She raised her arm, and my eyes widened at the dark fingerprints on her wrists, wondering if Luca’s brothers had given them to her. “And Damian tells the truth when he’s high.”

“Your secrets are safe with me,” I promised.

I concealed many truths about Luca and his family, using my art to reveal them in pieces. No one knew the true meaning of my Devil paintings.

“How does it work with Bastian and Damian? They don’t seem like men who would share.”

“It’s my fault.” Her cheeks flushed with color. “I couldn’t choose between them, so I broke it off. Of course, neither of them would accept that.”

A woman in love wouldn’t run.

I had feelings for Luca, hatred the strongest, though I sometimes felt love. For years, I had craved his time and attention, but I could never crack the combination on the lock around his heart.

Kali fidgeted in her seat, tugging on the ends of her hair. “I know it’s not normal, but…”

“I get it. What I have with Luca isn’t normal.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” She blew out a relieved breath. “I have no friends in this town. When I first moved here, the Salvatore brothers made my life hell. The last few months of high school were a nightmare. But one night changed everything, and they let me into their world.”

I’d never heard of Kali Marx until the party. There were gaps in my memories, especially those connected to Luca, but Kali was a complete mystery. And with the Salvatores blocking access to the Internet on my phone, I couldn’t confirm her stories. I didn’t know if I could trust a woman eager to share her secrets.

A beat passed between us before I said, “Your dad is running for governor. Do you have to attend a lot of political functions with him?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears and nodded. “That’s why I’m still here. To play my part when the cameras are rolling.”

“If he wins, will you move to the governor’s mansion with your dad and stepmother?”

“Not if I can help it.” She rolled her eyes. “I want out of here. This town is a fucking nightmare.”

I wanted to ask why she ran, how she hid from the Salvatores for three years, but our server dropped the check on the table, interrupting our conversation.