Page 25 of The Wicked
“Some would say it’s foolish for a man like you to leave himself so vulnerable.” I broke the silence, my gaze roaming over his face. He had a cut on his chin and a bruise underneath his eye.
Without so much as turning his head, he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I could feel the impact of his attention even without the full force of it on me. I knew I wasn’t all that tall, but even with that sideways glance he made me feel like a grain of rice atop his shoe. I couldn’t help but take another step away instinctively.
He looked away, shaking his head as if he didn’t have the physical or emotional capacity to entertain my presence.
There was something odd about his vibe; it made me want to leave him alone so he could continue to brood. Instead, I studied him, noting his dark hair, the same shade as Devil’s, his full brows, the same curve as Devil’s, and that nose, straight and perfect, maybe a little more perfect than Devil’s. There was a resemblance, one I hadn’t noticed before because I had no reason to try to find any similarities between the two men.
But it was apparent; they were family—brothers maybe…half-brothers, because Devil’s eyes were a dark brown while Elio’s were an intense, smoky dark gray.
He cleared his throat, startling me.
“Your staring makes me very uncomfortable, and I am two seconds away from throwing you off this roof.” He turned towards me fully, resting an elbow on the bricked railing. “How did you get up here?”
“The same way I stole from men like you without being caught all this time.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “I can’t help but notice… you have this… habit of repeating yourself. Is it a mental illness?”
“You asked me a question, I answered.”
“Straight to defense. It’s a sensitive subject, isn’t it? You’re ashamed of your mental illness. I understand, I won’t judge you.”
I fought the urge to catch his tongue and slice it off, but instead I shook my head, ignoring his sarcasm, and got straight to business. “You abandoned him, didn’t you?”
I was hoping to get a reaction out of him, but his stare was blank.
“He told you.”
“I figured it out. It was either an estranged friendship, exes with bad blood, or sibling abandonment. And seeing the distinct resemblance between you two, it wasn’t hard to figure it out.”
His face remained expressionless. He gazed off into the distance above my head for a beat or two before he looked me in the eye again. He brought the cigar to his lips, taking a long drag, which he never let out. As he spoke, puffs of smoke escaped his mouth. “Meddling in my private affairs will only get you killed faster than I initially planned. I’d suggest you forget everything you think you know and focus on why you’re here.”
“You hurt him; it’s not something I can forget. He’s my best friend and family—”
“You fuck your family?”
“And you abandon yours?” I shot back, unblinking.
Just one step, and he was towering over me, eyes hard. “I didn’t abandon him; I wasprotectinghim.”
“There’s a fat line between abandoning someone and protecting them. I don’t know why you wanted to protect him, but you could have done that and still kept in touch; maybe then you both would welcome each other with a hug rather than a punch.”
Something flashed in his eyes, and he backed up a step, shaking his head and turning to face the brick railing, bringing the cigar to his lips again.
It might be the wind, or maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but there was a slight tremor in his hands as he pointedly looked ahead into the distance.
I watched him blow out the smoke.
“You know those things tend to kill faster than weed, right?”
He glanced at me, took another drag, and muttered, “That’s the point.” The words were for himself, but I heard them, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he meant by that.
He wordlessly dropped the cigar on the ground beside him. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at me, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “How is he? Still angry?”
I didn’t know this man; I only knewofhim. The whiplash I was getting from his behavior now was pretty concerning. The man I’d heard of wasn’t capable of feeling; the man I feared wouldn’t look so confused and—dare I say—lost. But the concern in his voice told me it wouldn’t be wise to taunt him. Not now.
This has been a weird day—hell, this has been a weird week.
“I wouldn’t say angry,” I said, placing my good elbow on the brick railing too. “More like—sad. Hurt. Confused.”
