Page 98 of Deal with the Devil
But I never get my answer.
Diavolo goes still beside me, almost like he’s fallen asleep in the middle of our conversation. I stare at him, confusion knitting my brows.
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, he turns away, giving me his back. His hands come up, pressing against the devil’s mask. His shoulders hunch forward, labored breathing grinding out of him like it’s painful.
I step forward without thinking, a hand extended.
“Wait, what’s wrong?”
His breathing only deepens as, with a sudden anguished motion, he tears the mask free and pivots to face me.
I freeze.
Standing in front of me, chest heaving in broken rhythm and eyes wide with the familiar gleam I recognize, isRafael.
25
RAFAEL
I blink,and suddenly I’m awake, standing in a park I don’t remember walking into. Portia’s standing several feet away with fear carved onto her face, staring at me like she can’t believe her eyes.
The night is dark, the cool air clinging to my skin. My stomach churns like it’s been jerked in several different directions. The same can be said for my brain, which feels like it’s been rattled inside my skull.
I’m lost as to what the fuck is going on. How the hell did I end up at the park?
My breath heaves out of me as my gaze trends downward.
There, at my feet, lies the devil’s mask—crimson red with the black horns sticking out the top. My stomach lurches all over again. I stare at it as if it might blink back.
But it’s because I know, in the deepest, sickest part of myself, what it means.
It’s been him. All this time.
I feel the way I do because he’s been awake while I’ve been under.
How much time has passed since the last time I was conscious? How many days, or even weeks, have gone by?
It seems he’s been curating a whole new fucking life while I’ve been away. He’sreplacedme.
My hand lifts to my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, processing what’s happened and where I am. Then I look back at her and suddenly need to close the space between us.
“Dolcezza,” I manage, my voice hoarse. “It’s me… I’m back.”
Portia recoils at first, uncertainty flickering across her face. It dawns on her that it’s really me as I close the gap between us, arms opened to pull her into an embrace. She comes willingly, finishing the last few feet off by stepping into my arms.
They close around her, the moment immediately setting itself right.
I bury my face in her hair and bask in everything that’s familiar about her, from her scent to how she feels against me. She’s dressed up in a sparkling silver gown, and we’re in the park at night, which means Il Diavolo took her out.
An instant current of jealousy beats through me at the thought. I tamp down on it… at least for now.
She pulls back enough to look up at me, her brows drawn. “Rafael, you need help.”
“Portia…”
“You can’t pretend this isn’t happening. You need to talk to someone—a realsomeone, like a professional. A doctor or specialist. Your psyche is fractured, and I think… I think it’s getting worse.”
I move to disentangle us, not out of rejection, but for some space. Portia refuses to separate, clinging to my arms like we’re meant to be tethered.
