Page 26 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
She looked particularly angelic in that moment, though. The light blonde hair. Pale skin. Eyes an inhuman shade of amber. But I preferred her naughty side. The one that argued with me—all strength, backbone, and sass. I wondered which side she’d give me now.
I waited for her to say something. The more time passed, the more I convinced myself she’d rub what had happened in my face. Self-pity didn’t flatter me, but I did nothing to stop it from building.
I could have curled my lips up into a smirk. Made a witty remark. Told her how hot she looked from this angle. But that would make a mockery of our friendship—and we were friends, even if she didn’t know it yet. Hell, sometimes it was even hard to admit our friendship to myself.
She opened her mouth, and I braced myself for her words. “Pick yourself up, Damsel.” My eyes hardened at the nickname, the context striking me harder than I would ever let on. I opened my mouth to retaliate, but she beat me to it. “Angelo De Luca is weak, and when you dwell on the punishment he dishes, so are you.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes, giving me half a second to absorb her words. “But that’s not who you are. Is it, Day?”
One day, when I didn’t have my head so far up my ass, I would look back at this moment and realize it was precisely the moment I fell for Knight.
You can fool some of the people all the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.
Abraham Lincoln
Seventeen Years Old
Girl power. Noun. Power exercised by girls, specifically in the context of supporting oneself and fellow women. Origin: coined by American punk band Bi
kini Kill. Alternative spelling: grrrl power.
Antonym: Laura Willis.
Laura had supporting herself down to a T. I would give her that. But when it came to empowering other women, she fell as flat as a slashed tire. It had taken me five seconds at Devils Ridge High to realize exactly the type of obstacle she would pose for me, and months later, I could confirm the accuracy of my initial assessment.
Which was probably why pickpocketing her phone wasn’t the best idea I had ever had, but other than my nightly forays with Damian in his home library, boredom had become a sibling of mine. Plus, I needed a phone to contact Maman.
Devils Ridge, like other small towns, possessed more gossip than a lifetime subscription of Us Weekly magazines. Only, nearly everyone in this town had mafia ties, turning it into an incestuous community of shared dirty little secrets.
One of which was the ban that had been placed on phones for me.
My teachers kept me away from tablets, phones, and laptops. No one would lend me anything, Angelo had cleared the household of stray electronics, and I’d never ask Damian for a phone because I didn’t want to break the tentative truce he and I shared by reminding him of how we’d met in the first place.
I wasn’t normally a thief, though I happened to be good at it. The thin metal felt powerful in my hands as I leaned into my locker and typed out the password I’d seen Laura entering during AP English Lit the week before. It opened without trouble, and I pulled up her browser app and checked my emails.
None from Maman.
My head and hands buried in my locker, I drafted an email to my mom.
From: Renata Vitali
To: Margot Vitali
Subject: Earth to Maman?!
Hey Maman,
I tried to reach you months ago on a phone. It wasn’t mine, and I no longer have access to it. I haven’t heard from you, and I’m worried about you. Are you okay? I’m sure Papà told you where I am and gave you orders not to contact me, but just know I’ll be looking out for word from you just in case.
I’m staying with Angelo De Luca—he has a son!—at their mansion. Papà gave the order to remove communication privileges from me. Papà wants to silence me, Maman, because I saw him doing something he wouldn’t want you to know. Honestly, I would rather tell you what happened in person. I know you cannot defy Papà and move me back to Connecticut, but maybe you can visit. I can tell you in person.
I miss you Maman. You’re probably worried about me, but don’t be. I’m fine. I’ll stay fine, too. I just needed to tell you that I’m safe, and I need to talk to you. I’ll find a way to get access to the internet again soon.
Love You,
Ta petite guerrière
A hand gripped my scalp and yanked my hair back before I could press send. The phone clattered to the floor as my face left the locker. Laura’s eyes met mine. Crazed. So crazed I knew she’d forgotten her place below me in the mafia hierarchy. The hierarchy that was probably the only reason these kids had left me alone all these months.
Damian emerged through the crowd, his eyes leaping from Laura to me. We’d been doing the secrecy thing, and this marked the first time he’d been near me at school. There was nothing to out. We weren’t in a relationship, but there would be implications to the complicated relationship we did have.
