Page 121 of The Devil We Crave
But I just don’t feel like getting into it. Also, it’s pretty clear this “funk” that she’s in isn’t going away. The breakup with Bryce is hitting hermuchharder than I thought it would. I figure she’s got enough to keep her up at night without worrying about me being an idiot and giving my v-card to Achilles.
That’s another thing that’s morphed since he shut me out completely. At first, I was wallowing, thinking he disappeared because I was clingy, or bad at sex. That particularly dark train of thought would come whenever I replayed every twisted, fucked-up, achingly hot thing he did to me that night—that his silence was because I sucked or something.
But now, a worse, more insidious thought has wormed its way in: his disappearing act is becausehe got what he wanted.
All of it—the hunting, the stalking, the luring me to the woods—was to achieve one thing: to fuck me.
That’s it.
And now he’s moved on to the next girl dumb enough to let him see inside her dark fantasies and use them to get her to be his willing plaything.
Sex isn’t love. Sex isn’t romance.
But that still doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t feel like a knife to the gut.
“Hey, Dame?”
I knock on his bedroom door, wanting to return the book I'm holding.
“Wait, Lena?—”
When I knock, the door, which I guess wasn’t latched, swings open.
Instantly, my heart drops as naked fear wraps around my throat.
Holy shit.
Damiano’s room looks like someone turned it upside down and shook it. His clothes, books, and other belongings are strewn everywhere, his bed looks like an elephant used it as a trampoline, and all the drawers from his desk and dresser are pulled out and their contents scattered around the room.
But what sends a shock of terror straight to my center is the message scrawled across the mirror near his closet door.
…In cherry-red lipstick.
PAYBACK IS A BITCH, BITCH.
Instantly, the prickling sensation on the back of my neck I got when I saw the two previous messages comes rushing back.
LEAVE THE DEAD WHERE THEY LIE.
THE DEAD KNOW WHAT YOU DID, YELENA. THE DEAD DO NOT FORGET.
“Lena.”
I don’t realize I’m standing there frozen until Damiano shakes my shoulders.
“Lena!”
I flinch, gasping like he’s just dumped cold water over my head. Damiano is peering at me curiously, and I realize the horror on my face must be hard to comprehend, since I never told him about the message onmymirror.
“Hey.” He bends down so that he’s eye level with me. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah,” I mumble. “I…I just…”
“Don’t let this scare you,” he growls, turning to nod his chin at the disaster area that is his room. “It’s not…” He glances past me before returning his gaze to mine. “This is just…” His jaw grinds. “A joke that’s gotten out of hand.”
I smile weakly, nodding. Then my eyes dart back to the message on his mirror.
“Hey, Lena.”
