I assumed our grandmother now controlled what remained of his estate. I saw it as him further ensuring we never returned. My father was seen as cold-hearted and ruthless to almost everyone, but I remembered a man who loved us so much he broke his own heart trying to set us free. Whatever caused him to do the things he did must have been warranted. As soon as she was able, Eva went against his wishes with a dramatic flair. Maybe it was then everything derailed.

  The day I lost them I began losing my sister. How many times had I screamed at her for the shitty choices she had started to make again and again? She always screamed back before storming out of the house. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, go after her. I either had zero desire to do so, or nine times out of ten, had to work. We lived on a strict allowance where every penny had a designation long before it hit my now pitifully overdrawn account.

  Aunt Molly was always the poster of guilt when I handed her the money from my paychecks to help keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. That was another source of contention—money. I understood why we weren’t given anything to live off. Large deposits to a bank in the ghetto would be a little too obvious if someone were looking for us, something Dad was notorious for being paranoid about.

  Arguing was my and Eva’s thing, though, and that night was no different.

  We did it weekly.

  I thought she was a fool for coming here pretending to be someone and something she wasn’t. She thought I was pathetic and weak for being complacent. One of us always removed ourselves from the situation and before the night was over, either she or I would text to apologize and say I love you. This last time, she never read the text.

  I hadn’t seen her or heard from her since she’d left the house. I think I struggled with that the most. I couldn’t be without my sister. She was half of my whole. It didn’t matter how angry she made me or how badly her words could cut. I loved her more than the rage and hurt. The only reason I’d come back to was for her.

  While vengeance for Aunt Molly consumed all the thoughts my sister didn’t, the agony of her loss raw, this wasn't a fictional tale of retribution. This was my reality.

  To bring down her killer meant unraveling the mastermind behind it all. I wasn’t powerful enough to be a threat or make any. My only means of finding my sister and the truth involved immersing myself in a world I abhorred.

  Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a plushy towel around my body and twisted my hair up, locking it in place with a clip. Everything around me was blindingly white with a gray marble accent. This bathroom was the same one that had been attached to my childhood bedroom. They’d redone where I slept, swapping the princess theme with these tones, but nothing else had changed. It brought back a painful nostalgia of a childhood long gone. It was going to be hard to get used to. I’d grown accustomed to living a lower-class lifestyle. Every time I looked around at my surroundings, I felt as if I’d tripped and fallen into an alternate reality.

  In a way, I guess I had. I’d trade it all for what I lost in a heartbeat if I could. Poverty was better than this cold, glamorized emptiness. Maybe that wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people. In a way, I guess I had. I’d trade it all for what I lost in a heartbeat if I could. Poverty was better than this cold, glamorized emptiness. Maybe that wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people. To most, the glittering facade of wealth and privilege was all they ever desired. I knew the truth that lurked beneath the surface, concealed behind designer clothes and lavish parties.

  There was a darkness in this world of opulence, a shadow that clung to every corner, whispering secrets of corruption and deceit. Even then, I could feel it creeping closer, a malevolent presence that hungered for more than just material wealth. It yearned for souls to claim, for hearts to break, for lives to destroy. That’s how it dragged me back here.

  I let out a deep breath and tried to hold back the wave of tears threatening to spill over, but I couldn't fight them any longer. Crying was a necessary release before I could gather myself and move forward. It was part of our family's ethos: when life knocks you down, you get back up and come back even stronger. As my tears fell silently, I held onto the hope that I would feel it if my sister was truly gone. I repeated to myself that she couldn't be, refusing to accept anything else.

  Deep down, I knew I needed to prepare for the worst. Accepting it was an entirely different battle. When the truth came out, I wasn't sure what I would do or how I would cope, but no matter what the case was, I was determined to find my sister and bring her back home.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MATEO

  My mother told me that all a whore really wants is to be loved. My father taught me that no sane man would give a whore what they desired most. Both agreed that after a certain point, the whore was better off dead.

  It's like buying a car fresh off the lot. The value plummets the second you take it for yourself, but you’re fine with this. You’re a level-headed individual who understands there’s no point in developing sentimental feelings for a machine. You wisely take full advantage of all it has to offer until it’s time to replace it with a new model. Dealing with expendable women was more or less the same.

  I scrutinized the two before me, seated with my brother Elias and cousin Sergio at the outdoor table indulging in a light lunch. Both women were stunning, but I never settled for anything less and only the most exquisite made the cut in our line of business.

  Some may judge them as too beautiful to surrender their bodies to any man who paid for their services, but that didn’t stop them from being used. It was a cycle of life. Each encounter ended in the same way--with gaping orifices filled with cum and a throbbing ache that lingered between their legs or ass.

  The clients who paid for the full experience often left behind souvenirs in the form of bruises or welts, while those who sought a more extreme session would sometimes push their bodies to the brink and take their last breath before departing. I didn't care what went on as long as my two rules were followed: discretion was key, and payment was made upfront. There were a select few women off-limits to the sadist, and another few purchased from a Malignant underground specifically to satisfy that specific market. All the others were interchangeable and if they died, I simply tacked on a disposal fee.

  Very few of my girls were granted exceptions to how things got done. The two before me weren’t fortunate enough to be amongst those that did. The one on the left had been around for a decent amount of time thanks to my father. Although beautiful, with long honey blonde hair, doe brown eyes, and subtle curves, she was beyond salvaging and my mother no longer tolerated her presence or him fucking her. But that was a small part of a much larger issue.

  “Am I to believe neither of you has any idea what this book looks like?” I continued my line of questioning. They shook their heads in unison.

  “Use your words.”

  “N-no, Patrão, of course not.” The one on the right answered.

  I’d asked this question three times in three different ways, giving each of them ample opportunity to tell the truth and they continued to do otherwise.

  I knew this because the man I had been sending to fuck them off the books was one of my own. He recorded them from the time they sucked his dick as a team to the moment they agreed to be informants if he got them out of the city. They claimed to know the location of a ledger that held invaluable information. I wished I could say their deaths wouldn’t be personal, or I wouldn’t enjoy it, but both would be a lie. I didn’t take kindly to anyone that was a liability to my family.

  To threaten that was to fuck with my money, my empire, and those that served me. I didn’t give a fuck about being liked or disliked. Loyalty and respect, however? That was paramount. These women had neither. I nodded, pretending I believed them, flashing the charming smile that always put people at ease. The whore on the left fixed her attention on the file I had sitting on the table. Our eyes met and she quickly diverted her gaze when she realized her error.

  “She’s divine, isn’t she?” I picked up the large black and white photograph of Elena Castello that was resting on top of a thick file and a few other photos.

  “Yes,” she said softly, refusing to show her true feelings on the matter.

  I placed the photo back in the folder and flipped it closed. Peasants should never have the privilege of gazing upon queens. “She’s not like you, is she?”

  “No," she replied, her voice now barely a whisper.

  It had been a rhetorical question. Of course, Elena wasn’t like her. She’d proven that by choosing to live a life even a sewer rat wouldn’t envy. She hadn’t resorted to fucking, scheming, and begging for fleeting luxury. She would soon be given all of that because she belonged to me in all the ways they dreamed of. I stood and slowly approached the blonde.

  “Get on your knees.”

  Without shame, hesitation, or question, she dropped to the terracotta.

  “Do you know what I want you to do next?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, feigning enthusiasm.

  I would be insulted if this was the pinnacle of her acting skills, but I had no intention of letting her filthy mouth anywhere near me. Not that I was one to slut-shame. I valued these women’s valiant efforts and line of work. I simply wasn’t prone to sticking my dick somewhere gallons of cum had been emptied. There were some things Listerine and Colgate couldn’t erase.

  The blonde's sharp mind was an amusing contrast to her friend's naivety. Fear and warning radiated from her eyes, darting between me and her unsuspecting companion. As the brunette reached for me with trembling fingers, I revealed the gun hidden behind my back.

  Her mouth opened in a scream, but before she could make a sound, I pressed the cold barrel against her forehead and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The gunshot echoed through the air. My dick twitched as her lifeless body jolted. Like a puppet that had been lifted up just to have its strings cut, she slumped to the ground. Blood began to pool from the small hole in her head, creating a shallow puddle. The blonde was instantly on her feet, scrambling across the patterned concrete, kicking her heels off in the process. They almost landed in my pool. I watched her go, chuckling to myself.

  “Why do you always let them run?” Sergio shook his head in amusement.

  “I have to give them some kind of false hope, Gio. Why not let them believe they have a chance of survival?” I set my gun on the table and reclaimed my chair, leaving the brunette's body to bask in the sun. My steward, Jason, specialized in this area. He would retrieve and dispose of her before cleaning the mess up.

  “So, this woman, she’s the right pick?” Sergio gestured to the manila folder, going back to the discussion we’d been having before our temporary guests arrived.

  “She’s the only pick. There is no one else. It has to be her. It will be her.” I opened the folder again and studied the picture of the woman inside. After being face to face with her, I now knew that I had yet to receive a photograph that did her any justice. She had a classic beauty. What I found most intriguing was her eyes. They were brown and beautiful, but more than that they radiated a natural innocence and showcased how pure she was.

  Those eyes were the gateway to a hidden treasure buried deep within her, one that I intended to take for myself. I envisioned them peering up at me while her pouty lips were wrapped around my dick, my come sliding down her throat.

  My mind reeled with anticipation, imagining her eyes widening in shock and pleasure as I forced myself inside her for the first time. Every inch of me yearned to feel her quiver and writhe as she rode my face and ground her pussy onto my tongue. There were endless possibilities and plans for our future together. She was untainted by the harsh realities of my world, and it would be my privilege to corrupt her innocence and have her all to myself.

  “What have you got for me, Gio?” I asked, reaching for my drink and making myself focus.

  “She’s been here a week and hasn’t gone to a single party or event. When she is seen, it’s never without the Bellucci girl or Ross, and you know that little fucker parties hard. What do you think she’s been doing?”

  “Recuperating. A week isn’t that long,” Elias chimed in with a shrug. “You have to remember; that she was never fully inducted into this life. Her father wouldn’t allow it. Her sister forced her way back and Elena chose to stay away.”

  “He’s right. She isn’t like anyone from around here, which also means she isn’t close to being what I need her to be. Or who.”

  “How can you be sure she ever will be ready, considering…recent events?” Sergio shot a pointed glance at the whore on the ground.

  “There’s nothing to worry about, G. She will be everything my brother needs. Both for him and our family,” Elias cut in.

  “It’s just, she tried to…" he caught the look on my face and trailed off. "Never mind. I have faith in you completely. I know what you’re capable of. Forgive me, Patrão, if I’ve offended you.” Sergio bowed his head as a sign of respect.

  I waved him off. Had anyone other than him decided to voice that line of thinking to me we'd have a problem.

  Gio only had my best interest in my mind. I understood his concerns. Elena had a dark spot in her past that couldn’t be overlooked, but this detail didn't deter me in the least. On the contrary, it piqued my curiosity. Her complexities played right into my hands. Her mind was an intricate enigma, and I had always had a knack for untangling the most confounding of riddles. It would all be worth it in the end. Not only was she my last play, but the one card I needed to solidify something I’d been working towards for years. I’d made a sordid promise to a friend, and I intended to keep it.

  “Enough of this. Let’s go see my father.”

  As I began to stand, a terrified scream tore through the air followed by a single gunshot. I was almost impressed. The blonde had made it farther than they normally did when I let them run.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ELENA

  The shrill, persistent blaring of my cell phone alarm abruptly yanked me out of my self-pitying thoughts. Groaning, I swiped my finger across the screen to silence it. Reluctantly, I peeled myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, heading for the hutch caddy-cornered from the sink.

  I reached up and moved the resin lighthouse aside. Resting beneath it was the orange bottle I couldn’t bring myself to look at for too long--a symbol of my perceived weakness and dependency. The oblong capsules, a muted shade of green and pale yellow, held the key to balancing my moods and keeping me from spiraling into complete insanity.

  Feeling anxious, I counted the remaining pills. Without a doctor here to prescribe me anymore, I had to ration what was left. My usual supplier, who took the risk of losing her license to help me, was now on the other side of the city and I had no means of reaching her. I took the dosage I needed with water from the tap and then placed the lighthouse back in to hide the ugly orange bottle again.

  After returning to the bedroom, I discarded the towel that had been wrapped around me for hours and changed into my cozy sweats and an oversized shirt featuring a design from one of Lovecraft's stories. I didn't know what to do next. Despite my determination to push through, I had spent a good portion of the night stifling sobs until I had no energy left and could only hide my ragged breaths. The tears had finally stopped, but the pain still felt as raw as ever, and my swollen face felt like it was filled with helium. I checked the time and saw that it was just past midnight. It would be at least three more hours before I could fall asleep. I had attempted to distract myself by watching TV, but I couldn't focus on any movies or shows.

  The darkness wrapped itself around me like a heavy blanket, suffocating and all-encompassing. It was another one of those nights where I clung to my father's advice, desperate for any shred of comfort to ease the turmoil in my mind.

  “Never stop fighting the demons in your head,” his words echoed in my ears, a constant reminder of the struggle that consumed me every day. Sometimes, on these lonely nights, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I just let those demons take over. Would it bring me peace or push me deeper into this endless cycle?

  I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. “Where are you, Eva?” I whispered into the emptiness. I debated whether to call Peyton or Melody, who both understood the moods I could go into. I didn’t want to bother them though, especially at this hour. I returned to the bathroom and quickly ran a brush through my hair, trying to smooth out any tangles.

  I splashed some water on my face in hopes of reducing the puffiness around my eyes. It wasn't my best look, but it would have to do. Slipping on my flip-flops, I grabbed my cell phone and air-pods off the nightstand before heading towards the door. I remembered to grab my hoodie from the hook before stepping into the eerily silent hallway. It was as if this place was a tomb instead of a home; even the AC unit seemed too quiet.

  Once I made it outside without any run-ins, I took a deep breath and let the soothing sound of crickets chirping surround me. Scrolling through my music playlist, I settled on an Aquilo song that seemed fitting for my current mood. I didn't have a destination in mind; I just needed to escape from my room and clear my head. Walking felt like a better alternative than lying in bed and battling with the negative thoughts plaguing me. At such an hour, there was no activity in the neighborhood—I was grateful for that.

  Being able to walk like this was the only positive of this place. Most of the homes weren’t visible from the road, which added an extra layer of privacy for both me and whoever lived in them. Out of habit, I paused my music and checked my surroundings every few minutes. I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, but there was never anyone there. Not for the first time I wondered if I was alive intentionally or by mistake. My gut told me it was the former, but until I knew for sure or the reason why I'd always be looking over my shoulder.

  I wasn’t sure how long I walked. At least two more songs finished before I decided to cross to the other side of the road. I began to turn, freezing when I realized there was a car slowly creeping around a partially obscured bend. I silently cursed and paused my music, waiting to see if they’d pass, or if I needed to start running.