Page 27 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
Still, I wondered what he’d say or do, so I waited for his reaction instead of sending an elbow backward into Laura’s gut and taking care of this in my least preferred method of dealing with people—physical fights.
“Stop.” Damian’s voice bounced off the narrow hallway walls.
I liked where this was going.
He took a step forward, looking particularly menacing with the shiner Angelo had given him a couple days ago. “She’s a Vitali.” He shook his head when Laura’s hand tightened on my hair—she had a thing for him, and his defense of me had to be eating away at her ego. “Stop, Willis.”
My scalp burned, but it was worth it to see Damian defend me. I knew how he behaved at school by heart. He didn’t defend anyone. He kept to his corner and let the kids come to him, like a king, indulging his loyal subjects. This… this was everything.
Laura turned up her chin, but it wobbled, and her hands shook on my scalp before she lowered her head in submission. “Because you’re protecting her?”
“No.” Damian’s eyes flicked to me, and they speared me for all of point one seconds before he dismissed me with his gaze. “Because she’s nothing.”
And that was my cue to leave.
I swallowed my emotions, pushed my heel down onto Laura’s foot, swung an elbow backward into her stomach, and twisted away when she released my hair with a surprised yelp. Violence didn’t satisfy me, but I needed to get out of the hallway, and it was the quickest way. Plus, the De Lucas had invaded Devils Ridge. The staff would do nothing, and either way, in the eyes of the international syndicate court, my Vitali name justified any action I chose to take. I could kill Laura, and there would be no repercussions.
I didn’t bother addressing either of them as I closed my locker door, swung my book bag over my shoulder, and made my way to the library for the rest of the lunch period. About ten minutes before the bell was set to ring, Damian pulled out the chair across from the table I sat at, a worn copy of Nightmare Abbey open before me. I’d just gotten to the part where Marionetta torments Scythrop. Fitting if you asked me.
“I never took you as an anti-romance type of girl.”
I turned the page. “Was it my lack of faith in humanity that persuaded you otherwise?”
Our banter marked familiar territory, which he didn’t deserve. He’d hurt my feelings, which meant I cared, and I couldn’t care. His opinions shouldn’t have mattered to me. They were only words, and he was a pitstop, not the finish line. He hated me; I hated him. That was the familiar territory that should have superseded this weird friendship that had burgeoned between us.
“You’re mad at me.”
Did it matter? This arrangement would be over when I turned eighteen in a few weeks and could flee without legal repercussions.
“Anger would require emotions, and I don’t have any of those where you are concerned.” I cocked a brow and met his eyes.
They were so talented at guarding things. At school, he played off his dad’s onslaught of abuse well. But I saw the real him. The rage simmered on a loop, and I knew I would never figure out how to extinguish the flame. A part of me wanted to watch him self-destruct, just so I could be the one to pick up the pieces.
Some knight I was.
“Okay, I deserved that, but in my defense—”
“Those words are usually the predecessor to some lackluster excuse—almost always offensive, and one hundred percent likely to piss me off. You’re better off stopping now.”
He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. “I was an asshole out there, but it’s better that way.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’ll get worse if they know we’re friends. Plus, you can handle a few schoolyard bullies. I have no doubt about that, though I do doubt they can handle you.”
My lips twitched, and I knew we were both thinking about the elbow I had swung at Laura. Violence was never funny, but I couldn’t help myself. Damian’s excuse could have been as simple as a De Luca protecting one of his own. I could understand that and part ways without spending more than a few sleepless nights dwelling over it.
But here he was, in front of me, and that I didn’t understand.
“Why are you here, Damsel?”
“You have until the bell rings.” He slid something across the table to me.
I glanced down at it.
A phone.
The library had been empty when I entered, but I still checked before clutching onto the contraband device. My mouth opened and hung there, unsure of what to say in this situation. Did I thank him for the phone or toss it back at him, offended at the idea that he could buy my forgiveness?
