Page 81 of SINS & Riley
Her eyes lock on mine as I slam the trunk shut. Dead on the surface, but I see a few embers that refuse to die.
The will to live. A lone constellation in the dark.
And I’ll take it.
With that out of the way, I glance back. Andre fills the doorway, a smirk strung tighter than a noose.
I salute him. Neat. Controlled. A soldier’s gesture where a sniper’s bullet should’ve been.
I slide into the plush back seat as my driver rolls us forward. My jaw aches from grinding it too hard.
Once the gates slam shut behind us, I hit the seat release.
The seat beside me folds down with a soft click.
Elena flinches instantly, a wounded animal pressing herself into the farthest corner. Small. Coiled tight. Like she could fold her body out of existence if she tried hard enough.
It twists my gut like barbed wire because I’ve seen too many Elenas broken this way.
And because I’m the one putting that look in her eyes now.
I hand her a blanket, half a sandwich I didn’t finish, then a bottle of water. My voice stays even, but inside I’m a live wire strung too tight, ready to snap.
“Say nothing. Or it’ll cost you your life.”
She obeys.
For now.
Her eyes stay wide, white knuckles strangling the blanket to her chest.
She doesn’t touch the food or the water. Because she doesn’t trust me enough for that.
To her, I’m just another monster—same cruelty, different mask.
And she’s right.
Monsters don’t disappoint. They just bow to different masters.
My uncle’s master is greed.
Mine is darker. A hunger sharpened on blood and bone. I torture. I kill. And I decide who earns my wrath.
Judge, jury, and executioner. Satan incarnate.
When you’re sitting on a billion in stolen wealth, you don’t buy forgiveness.
You buy justice.
Not that any of this absolves me. I know it never will.
But it tips the scale.
Not enough to wipe the blood from my hands.
But I can live with that.
It takes us forty-five minutes to reach the drop. A safe house, hidden and far removed from the ones I used to run with Father Marc.
