Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I breathed out and stared down at my hands, turning them around. Of course, they weren’t stained in blood and neither was my knife, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine they were. I’d lost count of the times my skin had been sticky with blood. But the image of Aurora’s and Battista’s blood hit differently.
A knock sounded, and a second later, Dad poked his head in, a look of weariness on his face. “I heard your scream.”
Had I roared that loudly? Fuck. What a goddamn nightmare. I didn’t believe in premonitions. If a fortune teller tried to tell me my future, I’d end theirs. Still, I couldn’t stop staring at my hands.
“Nevio?” Dad asked as he stepped into the room. He too was holding a knife in hand. My scream must have really worried him.
I shook myself and gave Dad a twisted smile. “I guess all the killings are getting to me.”
Dad came toward me. “You’re pale. Do you need me to pull you from your current tasks?”
It had been a while since Dad hadn’t looked at me with anger in his eyes. His honest concern was a nice surprise. Of course, I was fucking undeserving of it, considering the nature of my dream.
Would it help me to stop killing? Or would it only lead to a frenzied killing spree I’d be unable to control. The last time I’d had a vivid dream like this had been in the months before my twelfth birthday, before my first kill. My dreams had been filled with images of carnage, and when I’d told Dad about it, he’d decided to gift me a victim for my birthday.
“I’m fine. I wanted to kill long before you made it part of my duty as a Made Man.”
Dad regarded me with narrowed eyes, as if he might extract the true nature of my dream from me.
“Maybe you should spend more of your nights actually sleeping instead of creating mayhem with Alessio and Massimo.”
“Sleeps a waste of time.”
“Lack of sleep drives even the sanest person to madness.”
“That’s a very Nino thing to say.”
“Go to sleep.” He turned and left, but I could feel his worry radiate off him in waves.
And fuck, even I didn’t share his worry. This had been a major mindfuck of a dream—nightmare.
Blood everywhere. Screams. My heart pounding, pulse racing. Bloodlust, eagerness, the thrill of the hunt.
But in the end, the two people in the puddle of blood had set my veins on ice: Aurora and Battista.
I didn’t know if I’d killed them, but I was almost certain I had. What did my subconscious want to tell me with this shit show of a dream? That deep down the crazy fucker part of me wanted to kill them and everyone else I cared about? Or was this my subconscious manifesting my biggest fear?
I wasn’t sure. I left my room and strolled through the quiet and dark house. It was three in the morning and everyone was asleep or at least in their bed, even Dad hopefully too. I knew every corner of our home, so I crept through the dark hallways, wondering when my heart would stop pounding.
I wondered if Dad had ever experienced nightmares like that when his life had been in upheaval after he found out he had two kids. I wished I could talk to him, but things had been too tense between us in the last few months, and my dream would probably only confirm his own worst worries, that I was a ticking bomb about to tear apart this family, possibly in the literal sense.
My phone lit up the room, alerting me of the bell, which I always muted at night. I slid out of bed and tiptoed toward the front door. It was the middle of the night, and nobody ever visited at this hour.
I glimpsed through the peep hole, my fingers clutching my phone, ready to speed dial Nevio so he could come and chase away whoever waited in front of the door.
My lungs deflated, my heart beat tripled, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. I unlocked the door and opened it.
Nevio stood in front of me. A baseball cap was pulled down his face, and he was dressed in a long black coat which hid most of his body—a good thing considering what I saw beneath. He was covered in blood, from head to toe. Even his lashes were clumped with blood. He wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes, and his skin and the clothes he was wearing were covered in blood too, though their black color made it hard to see.
Smudges of blood now covered my white door too and bloody footprints led from the elevator to my door. If Dad saw this on the security camera, we’d be in a ton of trouble.