Page 29 of Reaper & Ruin
“Yeah,” I crouched to help her tie the laces on her boots that had come loose. She muttered something about how she coulddo it herself, but her smile gave her away as she threatened me with violence.
“You know,” she said as I zipped up her jacket, “you’re not as scary as you like to pretend.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I said, smirking as I stood. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
She grinned, slipping her hand into mine as we paid our tab and then headed toward the car we’d rented. Atlas followed behind us, his expression still tight, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Once we were in the car, I glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Alright, spill. What was all that back there about O’Malley?”
“The house we went to yesterday, to help Sapphire. It seems it belonged to one of the O’Malleys.” Atlas hesitated, running a hand through his hair before sighing. “You know how I told you Silver’s biological dad was a gang leader in Hendrix City?”
I nodded.
“That’s him,” Atlas said flatly. “John O’Malley. Real piece of shit.”
Heather’s eyes widened. “Wait, that means that little girl Caro mentioned is—”
“Silver’s little sister?” Atlas cut in. “Yeah. Sounds like it. Which explains why she cared to send us here.”
He exhaled heavily, leaning back in his seat. “Now figuring all that out is another thing on my to-do list. But not yet. Sapphire and the Red Diamonds are looking out for her, and for now, that’s enough. We’ll worry about it later.” He turned to Heather. “Where else do you want to go before we head home?”
She beamed, rattling off a list of ideas as the car sped through the rain-slicked streets, her excitement filling the space with warmth. I leaned back, letting her voice wash over me as I stared out at the glowing city lights.
The mission wasn’t over yet, but for the first time, it felt like we had some room to breathe. Like we were on the right path to figuring out how to ruin my father and still make it out alive.
So we didn’t lose what we were working so hard to protect, and I didn’t have to stop being Giovanni.
Chapter Ten, Groundhog Months
Ialways knew I’d make a great, unhinged killer. The kind that had documentaries and pretty girl murder podcasts made about them. Or maybe even had an entire group of fans who ignored how much sadism I’d been part of, purely because I was hot.
Which Iwashot. Both in looks and physically because some cunt had a fire going in the burner, as though it wasn’t finally summer.
The entire cabin stunk of smoke and bullshit ideas, and my nose wouldn’t stop wrinkling.
Sweaty face aside, I had all the right qualities for a murderer; emotional maturity, a solid knowledge of male anatomy, and the ability to come up with creative ways to dispose of bodies. Mainly in the woods around my cabin home that I’d lived in for months now, like a hermit. The only breakoutside was the two days we’d gone to London to get Caro’s fingerprints.
But since then, we’d been home. Doing the same thing over and over and over again.
It was why I was going to be a killer. And as I prowled closer to my victim, I knew without a doubt that this was my final straw. Being locked in a cabin without a break was finally making me crack.
I was going to commit murder.
Blood and gore didn’t bother me if I shut my eyes, and I even had the cold-blooded delivery down. Something that took most people years to perfect. Not me. I was anatural.I was a hitwoman made of the best sort of hitwoman qualities.
I was even wearing a black outfit to really seal the deal. Granted, it was Atlas’s T-shirt and a pair of thigh-high socks—with tiny red bows on the back—but I still blended into the darkness and shadows.
“Heather,” my future victim stared at me, his sinfully cruel mouth moving with his last words. That sweet hint of his Italian accent coming through his honey-dripped tongue. “What are you doing?”
When I woke up this morning, I found the vanilla (with pink sprinkles and rainbow frosting) cupcake I’d been saving for breakfast had been eaten—stolen, really. It was only logical that I channelled my hitwoman persona to seek revenge. And that hitwoman waspissed. Specifically, she decided she was taking out Giovanni De Luca, the ex-mafia boss who was guilty of the worst sort of crime; eating a woman’s snacks.
It wasn’t exactly difficult. I could see it so clearly in my head: his shocked expression as I crept through the main room, up to where he sat on the plush couch, doing his crossword like usual. His legs were crossed at the ankles. He was concentrating, with a frown between his thick brows. Occasionally he ran ahand through his black hair, or the little beard thing he had going on that was mildly attractive and had left a rash on my thighs.
He was like a baby, and I was great at murdering… okay, no. I wasn’t great atthat. But Iwasan excellent hitwoman. My movements were quiet, efficient, almost untraceable, right until I jumped in front of my target and pulled the trigger with zero mercy.
Boom.
My shot was clean and straight to his empty, lifeless, man brain. He didn’t even have a chance to run. To fight. To do anything other than sit there and take it like a good boy.
