Page 65 of The Diávolos: Part Two
As I approach her, the room fades into the background, and all that remains is the electricity in the air when our eyes lock. It’s a silent exchange of desire and unspoken language that only we understand.
Tomorrow, Angelica will be my wife.
A sudden wave of sadness sweeps across her face as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.
“Do you still want to go through with it?” I ask, my heart sinking into my stomach. If she refuses to marry me, I don’t know how I’ll react.
“Yes,” she responds, her voice lacking the usual spark.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, we’re doing this,” she says, sounding more confident, erasing most of my doubts. “My father refused my proposal to get involved in the family business.” Irritation sparks in her gaze. “And when I told him we were getting married, he threatened to kill you.” A flash of anger flickers in her eyes.
I let out a scoff. “Peter is full of empty threats.”
“I really thought I’d be able to convince him,” she voices in a somber tone.
“Don’t worry,angeloúdi mou. We’ve got it all figured out,” I say, taking her into my arms. She settles into my chest and takes a deep breath.
“Eldora told me how mymamadied.” Angelica trails off, her voice cracking. She looks distraught. My heart stills. Though I don’t know what transpired on the day of her mother’s death, I’ve always been certain it was no accident.
I wrap my hand around her wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. But Eldora gave me my mother’s best friend’s address. Her name is Lydia. I have to visit her.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Angelica smiles but it doesn’t last long, a glimmer of melancholy persisting beneath the surface. I don’t say anything, waiting for her to continue, sensing there’s more.
“Why didn’t you tell me my father murdered your family?” she rushes out.
Her unexpected question comes to me as a shock, hitting me like a bucketload of frigid water. The memories of that dreadful day come rushing back, sending a shiver down my spine. I search for some semblance of composure as I struggle to find the right words to respond.
“Peter killed my family?” I mutter slowly, the weight of this news engulfing me. My head spins. It feels as if the ground beneath me has shifted, leaving me unsteady and vulnerable.
Angelica’s eyes widen, her mouth slightly ajar. “Oh my god, Evan. You didn't know,” she gasps. “I-I’m so sorry! I never would’ve brought it up like that. I thought you were aware and hadn’t told me.” Her hands raise to her trembling lips, tears forming in her eyes.
A whirlwind of emotions swirls through me, and I can’t breathe. I clutch onto the kitchen counter to ground myself, but there’s a storm of thoughts racing through my mind. This entire time, Peter was the one behind my family’s murder, and I had no idea.I had no fucking idea.
Of course it was him. I was so caught up trying to get back at him for my uncle, it didn’t occur to me to dig deeper.How could I have been so fucking blind?
So many questions churn in my head. Why did my uncle let him live? Heknewand kept the truth from me all those years.My heart pounds mercilessly against my rib cage. “He’s going to fucking die for this.” I seethe, blood rushing to my head.
A dark cloud seems to descend over me, pushing me dangerously close to the edge. Angelica shifts on her feet and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Evan. Are you okay?”
I try to steady my sharp breaths, but black dots appear before my eyes, and I blink to clear them away. It doesn’t work. My senses become muffled and the world around me begins to blur.
“Evander,” Angelica calls out, but her voice is distorted.Fuck. I’m falling into darkness.
Angelica is freaking out next to me, but I can’t look at her. I can’t formulate a sentence. I want to tell her that I’ll be okay, but I can’t. Panic sets in and my consciousness slips away like sand through my fingers.
“Sit down!” she yells, pulling my arm, and I wobble to the dining room to sit on one of the chairs. I close my eyes, rubbing my sockets with my palm.
Footsteps sound on the marble as Angelica’s small body appears in front of me. She sits on my lap, facing me, and pries my hands off my face. Then, she wraps herself around me and squeezes me against her, simply holding me. With her face nestled in the crook of my neck, she hums.
Her gentle touch breaks through the numbing void and her warmth gradually guides me back to reality. Her touch has always been my lifeline.
The fog begins to lift, and I keep breathing through it, but I feel a dampness on my shoulder. Angelica is crying.
