Page 31 of Savage Enemy

I wouldn’t go so far as to say he believed in mercy, but he did believe in fairness.

Aris, however, had become exactly what I’d thought.

The cruelty in his eyes had become stronger, intensifying his horrific combination of sadism, masochism, and misogyny.

Marco inherited Saul’s leadership skills. My twin—older than me by only minutes—inherited Saul’s barbaric cruelty.

Aris’s once cherubic beauty, with the same dark hair and light blue eyes as mine, had matured into something demonic. I was pretty sure the women of Chicago considered the devil a poor imitation of my brother.

Nonna used to whisper about Aris and me sharing one soul. He was the darkness, and I was the light. I believed her because it explained his needless cruelty with little or no provocation.

But now, after everything I’d learned, everything I’d seen, after everything I did to protect my freedom and my son’s safety, I knew the truth.

Aris and I weren’t the same.

We didn’t share a soul.

I certainly had somedarkness inside me along with the light, but his soul was pitch black.

Once upon a time, I thought something or someone might save him. I used to pray he would find the right woman, or a special interest, or some other purpose in his life for him to love more than himself.

I’d been certain something like that would give him light.

No longer did I believe in the naive fantasy from the Disney movies—the kind little girls clung to for hope. I knew better.

Santo had changed so completely, I hardly recognized him.

He lay stretched out on the limo’s bench seat, staring at the ceiling, bored while Marco fished around for the slug in his side.

When I looked at him, I tried to see past the tattoos and the permanent scowl, wondering if that beautiful little boy still existed, the one with brilliant blond curls, electric-blue eyes, and the most infectious laugh.

But I couldn’t.

“I don’t do tricks,” Santo said.

I blinked in confusion. “What?”

“You’re staring at me like I’m about to pull a rabbit out my ass or something. I don’t do tricks.”

“I don’t know…” Marco cut in. “You always manage to piss me off in record time. Isn’t that a trick?”

Santo muttered something smartass under his breath.

I ignored their bickering and scooted closer to Marco.

“Is there something I can do to help?”

“I think you’ve fucking done enough,” Aris growled again before grabbing my hair and yanking me back into the seat.

Pressing my lips together, I refused to make a sound.

Any sign of pain or weakness would only encourage him.

“I said shut the fuck up,” Marco growled, “and let go of her arm. I need a hand, and we all know you’re a shitty medic.”

“It’s not my job to stop the bleeding,” Aris fired back. “I’m the one who makes shit bleed. If Santo’s stupid enough to get shot, he deserves to bleed out.”

He released my hair, letting me scoot closer to Marco, who knelt on the floor beside our youngest brother.

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