𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨:
⸻ 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴!
❝𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗨𝗧
𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗬 𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟❞
❝ She looks at you like you're her saviour. ❞
❝ Even though I'm a sinner? ❞
❝ You...
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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT “THE GUILTY WAS PROVEN INNOCENT”
SCARLETT DEL GATO
My eyes flutter open.
The stench of the car oils and dust still filled my nostrils with every inhale.
I was still in the garage. The plate Vincent dropped to the floor was still lying at my feet, and so did the rope that was tied around my wrists and ankles. The only difference was that Vincent was nowhere in sight, and the door that lead to the kitchen was completely pulled open in front of me.
Remembering what Vincent expects of me made me feel guilty because I didn’t even hesitate when I nodded at him. I am willing to kill the brothers to get my brother back. Well, that was what Vincent was convinced of.
I won’t ever be able to kill any of them now that I know that Giovanni wasn’t the one who shot my brother. It was Vincent, and the one I should be going after right now is Vincent and the rest of the White Pistols, but I told Vincent that I would kill the Castiglione brothers and he was convinced that it was what I was going to do seeing that he has something over me.
My brother.
And the fact that he might be alive or not.
He is going to use me to get to the brothers in exchange for my brother.
I don’t know if what he said was true about my brother being alive all this time but I will be selfish if I didn’t even have a small piece of hope left that my brother’s alive. If I give up on the possibility that he’s alive, I might as well just call Vincent now and tell him to shoot him—if he’s alive, that is.
“You’ll get your proof once one of the brothers is dead.” He had said.
I grip the wooden armrests of the chair before lifting myself up. I ignored the fact that my legs felt wobbly and that they were threatening to cave out right from underneath me at any second. But once I composed myself, I managed to take small steps toward the door in front of me.
When I enter the kitchen where Vincent was busy not long ago making breakfast, the sunlight filtering through the blinds blinded me. I had to shield my eyes with the back of my hand to be able to make my way to the exit of whoever’s house I was in.
But by the looks of the dust covering almost every inch of the surface of the house: the floors, the couches, the TV and the bookshelves and everything else, it told me that this house was abandoned for a while now.
I spot the front door just outside the kitchen and mentally cheer that it was unlocked when I turned the knob. I didn’t think that Vincent would make leaving this place as easy, but I think he wanted me to go to the brothers as soon as possible, and that’s why he left my wrists and ankles untied when I woke up from the sleep I had.
