I just wish I knew why, only when it comes to the DeAngelis brothers, they don’t need a rhyme or reason, this is just who they are. All they need is a pretty face and a warm body and their Saturday night slumber party has commenced.
“They’re … they’re going to know it was you,” I stumble out, my words raw in my throat as the fear weighs me down. “They’ll come for you. The police … they’ll—”
Marcus laughs, cutting me off, and I quickly realize just how wrong I am. The news only ever tells us horror stories, shows images of victims with horrendous descriptions of how they met their end, but we never see an outcome, never see justice for the mourning families of our city. They get away with it every damn time.
The police are useless. No one can help me now.
These monsters murder for sport. It’s a little adrenaline kick to get their blood pumping. Screams are their elixir of life. They need to feel someone else’s fear just to keep themselves breathing. They should be locked up in straitjackets and denied every basic human right possible.
They are the grim reapers, and they will make sure that every last fucker who gets in their way knows it.
I’m going to be another statistic to them, another notch on their belts. Hell, maybe they’re practiced enough that it’ll be quick, but then, maybe they’re also skilled enough to make it last hours on end. Either way, I need to make peace with it real fast because I won’t be living to see another day.
Tonight, I will die.
Laughter floods my apartment and the sound sends chills down my spine as I shrink away, feeling so damn small around these beasts. They’re almost larger than life, but not in the heroic, idolizing kind of way. They’re demons who’ve stepped straight out of hell.
Never in my wildest imagination did I ever think I’d be so close to any of them, let alone be the object of their twisted attention. I’m a good girl. Sure, I curse a bit too much, but who doesn’t? I don’t take drugs, I don’t whore around, I don’t even get involved with bad boys because they’ll break my heart and I won’t be able to handle it. My life revolves around going to work, hoping I have enough to cover rent, and purchasing batteries for my friends like Tarzan. I’m as clean as it gets, I shouldn’t be on their radar.
The light on my phone goes out and my world crumbles as it slips from between my fingers. I tug and pull on Roman’s tight hold, hell that’s assuming the guy behind me really is Roman. I’ve only ever seen their faces on the news, and they always use the same old pictures from when they were teenagers.
They got smarter as they grew and have managed to keep out of the public eye, but from what I’m seeing, they’re fucking men now, and damn, they’ve grown up in the most deliciously wicked way.
They’re fucking gorgeous with their dark, deadly eyes and the tattoos that creep up their necks and sharp jawlines, but that’s exactly what they want. They’ll happily lure willing girls like me into their traps, promising them a good night, only to take them home and see how quickly they can drain their blood.
These aren’t just regular bad boys with a chip on their shoulders; these men are serial killers through and through. There is no other way to put it. Most mothers warn their babies against rapists and men slipping them pills in bars, but mothers around here don’t even bother mentioning the rapists—they warn them about the DeAngelis brothers, telling of the horrors and stories that spread far and wide through our town.
And now those very brothers are in my living room, stalking me like they already own me.
The darkness overwhelms me as a sliver of moonlight filters through the kitchen window. There’s enough light to see the coarse faces of the men surrounding me, but not nearly enough to guide me out of here. There’s no escape.
I shake my head, nervously glancing between the two men in front of me, trying to get some kind of read on them, but it’s useless. Their faces are like masks, completely concealing their every thought and desire. The need to spin around and try to get a read on Roman pulses through me, but I won’t dare turn my back on the other two. Are they here to simply kill me, or do they have something a little more sinister planned?
“What do you want?” I demand, shrinking back against Roman’s chest to try and get further away from his looming brothers, only all that does is allow them more room to move even closer.
Their faces don’t change, not even a spark of life hitting their dark eyes as I demand an explanation. I’ve never crossed paths with a serial killer on the hunt before, but my gut tells me that a question like that would garner some kind of twisted smirk, but I get nothing.
My gaze flicks through the gaps between their shoulders, trying to see my apartment around them. My kitchen is only a few feet away. If I can get there, I could grab a knife from the sink and attempt to poorly defend myself. Hell, I could even throw myself out the kitchen window. I’d drop four floors, but I’d have a higher chance of survival than if I were to stay here.
I shuffle my gaze in the opposite direction and notice how the door is still bolted. My brows furrow and my eyes snap right up to Levi’s hard stare—at least, I think it’s Levi. To be honest, I have no fucking idea. “How did you get in here?” I demand.
The doors were locked when I got home, and I locked them behind me immediately after I walked through it. I spent two minutes trying to find my laptop to plug it into the charger and then got the ice cream from my freezer. There wasn’t a single chance for them to have broken in without me knowing about it. Unless …
I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes widening in horror. “You were already here.”
None of them smile or snicker, but the deadliness in Levi’s eyes seem to shine a bit brighter. When I attempted to go back down to my room, he stepped out of it. This fucker saw exactly what just went down in there with Tarzan, and fuck me, he almost got to see me come.
“You’re sick,” I spit at him before looking across at Marcus. “You’re all fucking sick.”
Roman leans down beside me and I feel his lips at the base of my neck. A haunting laugh pulls from deep within his throat and that wicked grin that I’ve been expecting to play on his brothers’ lips finally starts to spread. “Welcome to the family, Empress.”
Oh, fuck no.
Roman releases my arm and I don’t wait around to see what he has in store for me. My hand slams back against his junk and he groans low, so fucking low that I feel the vibrations through his chest, hitting my back.
Not wanting to waste the opportunity, I stoop low, knowing I won’t be strong enough to barge through their shoulders. I hit Levi in the junk, trying to take him down too, and cry out as Roman’s hand flies out and curls around my wrists. I scream, tugging harder as the desperation pulses through me. I try to barge through them as they struggle to compose themselves, but Roman’s grip is relentless.
I kick up at him, narrowly avoiding breaking his nose as my long hair falls from its scrunchie. Levi starts to recover and Marcus casually steps around his brother and comes to a stop right before me. There’s absolutely no way out.
Roman releases his hold on me, but only because his brother has me exactly where he wants me. A sick smile twists over Marcus’ lips and his eyes flame with the slightest hint of what he has in store for me.