Page 173 of Ruins
Vasilisa is beacon.
And I?
I am nothing but a shadow.
I don’t deserve her light while I can offer nothing, but darkness.
Chapter 34
Vasilisa
Themonthfliesby,and my brother-in-law—orcognato, as he’s taught me—is surprisingly fun to be around. He visits every day, sending Luca and Romeo away, which saddens me because I miss them. And Nico? I never see him anymore, which hurts. The bond I had with my pseudo brothers wears thin, but time spent with Angelo is an adventure of its own.
He gifted me my very own Glock, and together, we work on my shooting skills. He forces me to spar, making me defend myself, teaching me how to use my speed and small stature to my advantage.
‘If you ever find yourself in danger, Tiny,’ he says, wiping blood from my lip after a particularly rough takedown, ‘make the fucker regret breathing. Go for the nose.’
We even use Santo’s gym, where we work out together—him lifting weights while I run on the treadmill. The endorphins from training are invigorating, a much-needed distraction.
Because Santo never calls me back.
Never answers my goodnight texts.
And with Luca gone, I don’t know what he’s doing, if he’s safe, if he’s thinking of me at all.
Angelo tells me that Santo gets to the penthouse late and leaves early, much like he did when he was here. I hate it.Despise it.But Angelo—though he doesn’t soothe me with pretty words or empty reassurances—distracts me. He has breakfast and lunch with me, pulling my thoughts away from the dangers my husband might be facing. He lets me in, tells me things I don’t think he tells anyone. About how his mother’s death effected him. About why people call him Sinner.
The story is brutal.Terrifying.
It makes my heart bleed for younger Santo.
When Angelo leaves in the afternoons, I paint. I paint every moment,every memoryI have with my husband before I lose them all. As short and fleeting as they were, they are my most favorite.
As I slow down on the treadmill, Angelo drops his dumbbells with a heavy clank, wiping sweat from his face with a towel before walking over. He hands me my water bottle that Lila had brought down for me earlier, I take it, but it gnaws at my feelings that she refuses to look me in the eye.
I didn’t have any gym clothes, so Angelo called Cassandra during breakfast one morning to bring me a few outfits. Now I have seven brand-new running shorts with matching tanks, while Angelo sticks to his usual—sweatpants and no shirt. His entire torso is covered in intricate tattoos—not much of his skin is left untouched by ink. But his back…
His back is captivating.
A pair of large, black-and-red angel wings spread across his muscular frame.
Santo has a tattoo.
Santo has abetter body.
I like that he only has one large tattoo instead of multiple ones. It lets me see his body better. The way his muscles shift. The way his skin looks when it’s damp. Like the night before he left…
The memory of his fingers between my legs hits me hard.
I can stillfeelhim.
Santo makes me feelferal. I’ve never been so uninhibited in my life, neverwantedlike that before. But his body is a masterpiece—his smooth chest, his defined abs… those abs…
They’re to die for.
I don’t think I’ve ever gushed over a man like this before. I mean, before Santo, I’d never even been close to having sex.
Sex.
