“I made a promise,” he whispers. “I swore if there was even a slight chance your life could be in danger I’d let you go and I won’t go against my word. My life is toxic, Violet, and I’ve been kidding myself by thinking otherwise.” He sighs and leans forward, touching his forehead to mine. “I love you, Bug, and I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t exist. You know we believe that love is the greatest gift we can give someone, but it’s not. The ability to live a beautiful life is the best gift of all and watching you live yours will be the highlight of mine.”
He inches closer, thumbing away my tears and dips his head to touch his lips to mine. I whimper into the kiss as my fingers grip the front of his shirt and pull him flush against me. If I could freeze time, I would. I’d keep him here with me forever. There’d be no goodbye. No threat of violence. Love would conquer all. It would be enough.
His hands fall from my face and he slowly pulls his mouth from mine. I open my eyes and even though he’s standing right in front of me, I feel completely alone.
I feel empty.
Hollow.
Lifeless.
Chapter 32
Rocco Spinelli
The days that followed were brutal and I feel like a total cunt for saying that because as bad as they were for me—and they were fucking bad—I knew they were ten times worse for my sister. She was grieving the life she loved and settling into a world of shame and all I could do was watch helplessly.
It’s all any of us could really do—Stryker included.
I even reached out to Aunt Grace in hopes that she’d remind Gina of our mother. They were sisters after all and they shared a lot similarities. I believe if our mother was alive, she’d know what to do. She’d wrap Gina in her arms, hold her tight and give her hope. She’d give her strength and courage to get through this.
Eventually, Stryker decided to take Gina away for a couple of days and brought her to meet his mother. He thought a change of scenery would be good for her and I wasn’t about to argue. With Gina gone, Parrish and I got to work on getting revenge.
Yankovich was a phantom but he knew he was on our hit list. He left a trail leading us directly to the men who attacked Gina. He was skilled manipulator and I’m guessing that’s how he stayed off Parrish’s radar for so long. The man basically uses and abuses his own people. He makes them do his dirty work and after the deeds are done he looks to dispose of them—only he doesn’t get his hands dirty himself.
He knew we would kill those men and he served them to us on a silver platter. I didn’t mind though. We’d get Yankovich with time. All he needs to do is slip once and we’ll be waiting. In the meantime, delivering justice for my sister would have to hold me over.
And trust me when I say justice was indeed served.
Me and Joaquin brought the three spineless cunts down to the docks and locked them inside a shipping container—just like the ones Yankovich used to transport innocent girls overseas. The plan was to torture them until they begged for mercy or for death and that’s exactly what happened. I stripped their clothes, the way they did with my sister and I chained them to one another, forcing them to feel as violated as they made her feel. Then I beat the fuck out of them. When Parrish arrived with Stryker to finish them off they were battered and bloody, crying like a bunch of worthless cunts.
I walked out of that shipping container covered in blood, my knuckles and bruised and an torn apart, but I welcomed the pain. I fucking relished in it.
Revenge was mine and I was just getting started.
But with retribution in the books, I was forced to face facts and I began to grieve my relationship with Violet. It’s funny how a single woman can come into a man’s life and change everything about him. How she can make him need the things he swore he didn’t want. I keep telling myself I did the right thing, but it’s hard going home to that house and not have her there.
I see her at every turn.
Inside every room.
I hear her laugh throughout the house and when I lay in that bed, I’m engulfed with the sweet scent of her perfume. I almost killed the cleaning lady when I caught her trying to change the sheets. Violet was fading from my life and I needed to keep the little I had left.
I started hitting the bottle again and in my drunken stupor I had a revelation. I was a master of wasting time. Think about it—I wasted years fighting with my sister and twice as many ignoring the girl that was right in front of me. It’s my biggest regret and that’s saying something considering how long that list of regrets has become.
There are times when I contemplate if letting her go was the right move. I tell myself that there is less of a chance that any of my enemies will harm her if they think she doesn’t matter to me, but then I counter that with the fact that no one is going to protect her like me. No one will lay down their life for hers—not really.
Joaquin says it for the best, but he never truly wanted me with Violet. Part of me thinks he’s bitter that I got the girl of my dreams when all he got was a death certificate. Harsh, I know, but that don’t make it any less true.
Take tonight for instance, it’s Violet’s opening night. The first time she’ll take stage and dance under the bright lights of Lincoln Center. The first time she’ll see her name in print on a program. Joaquin found out I bought a ticket and threw a fucking fit. I have no intention of making my presence known, I just want to see her for myself. I want to sit back in the dark theater and watch her dream become a reality. He thinks I’m making a play for her heart. That I’m sending mixed signals or some shit like that, but he doesn’t know how I ended things. He thinks I took the easy way out and made her think she didn’t matter to me, that she was just a warm body I used to pass the time. I was straight with Violet. I made my love for her clear. I let her understand that it’s because of that love, that I was breaking her heart and mine too.
Love is a finicky thing.
It toys with your emotions.
It rules your conscience.
It decides your fate.
Love is a bitch, but so is life.
The lights dim and the curtains rise as the orchestra begins to play. I’ve never been one for instrumental music, but listening to it now, associating it with Violet, well, it’s fucking beautiful. But it doesn’t compare to the beauty on the stage dancing in sync with every chord.
My pretty ballerina.
My saving grace.
My heart.
The one thing that makes living worthwhile.
“You did it, Bug,” I rasp. “You fucking did it.”
Chapter 33
Violet Cabrera
There have been times in my short life where I’ve endured immeasurable bouts of pain. Times when I wanted to give up on myself, on my dreams and even life itself. Times when the world was too ugly to bear. But I quickly realized those times when I wondered how I’d ever prevail, were in fact the times that changed me and made me stronger. The dust settled, the fear of failure faded, and hope was restored as I straightened my crown and pressed forward. I followed my heart and chased my dreams and tonight, one of those dreams came true.
I stood on that stage, under those bright lights and I danced my heart out. Me, the Puerto Rican girl no one expected to make it as a ballerina, danced for hundreds of people in Lincoln Center.