Page 54 of Reaper’s Wrath

I relished every second of it. And the way my body responded to him? I can’t even make myself come that fast on the rare instances when I’ve touched myself. I wonder if that’s the way it is with a partner, or if it’s unique to Elio. His hard body wrapped around mine. The dark caress of his seductive words. Thick calloused fingers with the perfect balance of friction and finesse.

I’ve never felt so alive.

My entire body was liquid sunshine, radiant and glowing only for him.

A killer. My captor.

I lay in bed for nearly an hour, trying to sort out my chaotic emotions about the matter. When I finally coax myself back to life, I feel a compelling need to learn more about the man who is turning my world upside down. I shower, dress, then circle back to the snooping I did on the first day I arrived.

I dig deeper this time. Every nook. Every cranny.

I don’t know what I’m looking for, except for something that helps me understand the man Elio has become. The only thing I uncover is a hand-carved wooden box a little smaller than a shoebox. It’s been stained and polished but is otherwise unadorned. Inside, I find what appears to be a collection of keepsakes. A pressed flower between two pieces of paper, the leather tag from a pair of Levi’s jeans, two hand-drawn maps with coordinates but no words neatly folded, a metal cap from a glass soda bottle, and several other seemingly random odds and ends.

The one thing that interests me is the photo of a beautiful young woman with raven-black hair and vibrant blue eyes. It was taken relatively recently. The image quality is good, and her clothes look modern.

She’s effervescent, beaming at the camera with a world of love.

This is someone special to him. The only photo he has in his possession. It’s not at all what I expected to find, nor is this nauseating ache in my chest how I would expect myself to react.

How could a random picture hurt so much? Why?

I’ve only reconnected with him for a few days. Why would I be bothered by anything from his life? He’s no one to me.

I don’t have to say the words out loud to hear the lie. He’s not simply an acquaintance from my past. My heart feels tethered to him by a million invisible threads that I never knew were there.

I don’t know what to do with that realization except pack it away the same as I do with his wooden box, because the emotions I’m stirring up are frightening. Rather than stew in them, I get out one of the books from his hidden compartments and practice avoidance.

I read until lunchtime, then go upstairs and find Evie talking with someone on her laptop. Not wanting to intrude, I start to retreat when she calls me over.

“Don’t go! Come say hi to Sofia. She’d love to meet you.”

I take a seat next to her on the sofa and smile at the lovely woman on the screen. Her sandy hair is streaked with gold and cut into an adorable bob with bangs that give her a hip yet grounded vibe, and I’m pretty sure the green paint visible on her T-shirt isn’t a part of the design.

I think I like this girl already.

“Hey, I’m Isa.” I wave and smile.

She beams back. “I’m Sofia. I was looking forward to meeting you at the wedding but…”

My heart lurches. “Are you part of the Luccianos?” I whisper, though there’s no one else around to overhear me.

Her lips thin. “Guilty.”

“Were you at the church?”

“I was.”

“What happened?” I’ve been curious about that day ever since, but it’s been a low priority considering all the other crazy stuff I’ve had to occupy my mind.

“It was a little chaotic at first, mostly because Mazzi was furious and insinuating you’d run away. They got him quieted and gave a vague announcement to those of us who were present that the ceremony had needed to be rescheduled.”

My body involuntarily recoils at the prospect of rescheduling the wedding. I don’t think I could summon the courage again, and after everything that’s happened with Elio … Mazzi isn’t an option anymore, even if Elio did decide to return me. I’m not that same woman anymore.

I turn to look at Evie. “How on earth are you two friends? Aren’t those Russian tattoos on Michael? And aren’t the Luccianos hunting the Reaper’s crew?” I’m so freaking confused.

“We’re very good friends,” Sofia says somewhat somberly. “It’s been a tricky situation to maneuver. I became good friends with Michael in high school. Until I got together with my now-husband, Nico, I kept things with Michael a secret. My immediate family knows, but they’re good about letting me keep those two worlds separate.”

Evie nods. “That, and we have to limit our contact, especially lately.”