Page 43 of Little Nightmare

I slid my hand across the seat and grabbed his. “He’s right.”

Dad snorted. “We’re almost there. I’d be thinking where you want to make the cut of flesh, not an ounce short.”

I squeezed Ace’s hand.

He squeezed back. “My chest and part of my arm. I’ll cut out the family tattoo that links me to Sicily once and for all, and I’ll destroy my scars creating new ones, born out of honor, loyalty—love.”

My eyes flickered to his chest.

“Take the skin from my chest next to my heart as a reminder that every beat belongs to her. My life is hers.”

“And her life?” Dad asked.

"Mine,” Ace snapped.

My heart jolted in my chest. I told myself it was fear.

The shiver that ran through my soul said otherwise.

15

ACE

Why Are You Full of Rage? Why do I like it? The one with no answers.

Someone must have talked because by the time we made it to Dante’s house the bosses were already waiting in the basement. I had the lovely job of walking next to Raven into the kitchen, while every mom, aunt, cousin—you name it—gave me a look of trepidation, sorrow, judgment, and at least half of them smiled like this was a joyous occasion.

They knew what would happen.

I was physically giving my body to her—it meant my soul would follow.

Words, after all, were so easy to toss out.

I like you.

I love you.

My heart is yours.

Words were bullshit, though, especially when it came to the time of proof. Could you actually really own a person’s heart if they weren’t willing to physically cut it out of their chest? Gory as it was, I wondered about things like that.

After all, didn’t Saint Valentine oppose the emperor when he married couples in secret?

"What?” Raven said under her breath. “Is this really a time to tell stories?”

I frowned. “I said that out loud?”

Dante and Ivan were a few steps behind us while we made our way past the kitchen.

“Yeah.” She shivered.

I shrugged. “I like history and weird facts. Valentine defied the emperor himself for love, figuratively giving his heart, his very life in order to prove that love conquered all.”

She snorted out a laugh as we made it down the hall. “You don’t love me, Ace.”

I hated that she said that.

Maybe at one point in my life, I could have been that person, the one to give his whole heart. Maybe it really was easier then, for me to give my body? Did that make me a hypocrite?

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