Diavolo

i

3 years later

PRESLEY

        Drunk college students and warm bodies, hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, the smell of cheap alcohol lingering in the air. Loud chattering from tables and rambling about the home football game tonight—something I didn't give a fuck about and wouldn't be going to. And for some reason my source for my next big story chose this bar to meet tonight.

        I would have liked to say it was karma reminding me that I hadn't called my mother in about two months and using this as an plot for me to come scurrying back to her but I refused to do so.

        I was manifesting a good night. My fingers were already crossed, my eyes sliding down to my heels with the bows on them—the very ones I wore whenever I talked to a source of mine. I needed all the good luck I could get.

        My phone dinged and lit with messages of my best friend Finley wishing me good luck and my sister Lotus asking when I would get a vacation so I could visit my mother since once again, she had been asking for me.

        How convenient of her.

        Honestly I didn't know what I was doing, agreeing to meet his source of mine at ten in the night. I had a fucking rule book when it came to clients like these.

        Don't meet a night. Don't meet at sketchy bars with cheap alcohol. Don't come alone. And definitely don't come dressed like you're having a date.

        All of which I quickly broke coming from an hour traffic and a long day at work with nothing to change into but a little black blazer dress I kept for emergencies.

        I packed up my knotless braids into a long ponytail and smudged some dark lipstick on my lips. From the minute I entered I had counted at least three guys who'd offered to buy me a drink. Not that I was interested or anything but you'd think they would be less obvious in their attempts to roofie my drink.

        I picked up my phone once again with a loud sigh when it had been at least an hour of waiting here alone with nothing but a I'm running late.

        I was eager to get back to my apartment, take a hot shower, spend some time with Elvis—my dildo—and eat takeout food while scouring Netflix for some good rated movies.

        Yeah, it was a bit sad for me to be alone on Valentine's Day but who the fuck cared?

        My romantic life wasn't much of interest ever since my ex-boyfriend cheated on me about a year ago. Now I trusted men as far as I could throw them—not even much if you asked me.

Enzo texted me after the breakup and I had found out through him that Finley's husband Octavius had roughed up a bit, but when I saw him in person, he looked like the definition of death.

He was broken from all the places I could possibly think of, bruised and beaten, lost a few teeth snd broke a few bones and I knew he would never be able to walk normally again but I felt pure satisfaction from that.

        I didn't know how the man had enough power to do that but I knew Octavius Gevonese was somewhat of a mystery. Him and his whole friend group.