Chapter 153

"You thought you could escape from me. But you forgot that the same willpower you have to get revenge on me, I have to fuck you up," he ordered, his voice forged in fire. "Show your face, Gray."

I stood up, expecting to feel the distillation of his hatred for me. How I was fucking up his plans, whatever they were. How I was marking my death and that he needed to put an end to it.

I expected him to shoot me, just like he would have done with the many other victims.

I expected Dante to deliver me to hell, just like I knew I had been condemned from the start.

But what I saw from him hurt so much more. It cracked my soul.

Faulkner knelt down, resting his hand on the side of my face and wiped away the blood drops.

"Who did this to you?" he asked gently.

"You. You did this to me."

His expression remained unreadable.

"They dirtied you... I always told you to stay away because I don't like seeing you stained with the same colors as me."

My heart skipped a beat.

I didn't want to, but I found myself becoming that thirteen-year-old girl obsessed with the troubled boy standing before me.

"I..."

"Dante, let's go."

We both looked at the door at the same time. It was one of his friends. From his stature and voice, I guessed it was Cole.

It still gave me chills how they really seemed faceless and resembled gods of death. The dark cloak covering them from head to toe was ominous. I don't know how they moved, how they managed to cause as much destruction as they did, but apparently, it was more effective than it seemed.

"Alright."

Dante stood up, but his arm wrapped around my waist, and in the same second I was sitting, I was thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"What the hell! Put me down!"

His fingers dug into my thigh, sending a spark of electricity that made my skin tingle. My legs squeezed together, with little intention of showing what I felt.

"After what you did, you don't have the right to say a word, Gray. I hope you know that when we get there, I won’t spare you. And if I were you, I'd be afraid of the person I am when I'm pissed off."

Because, damn, you really pissed me off.

***

**Four years ago**

Despite being an important day, the sky was gloomy. The gray of the clouds weighed heavily on the streets, forcing the streetlights to illuminate parts of the alleyways in the middle of the day. Although it was spring, the cold dominated the space, making everyone in the hall busy with adding layers of clothing.

I slightly regretted insisting on wearing the navy blue dress I had bought just for the occasion. There were many security guards. I had asked the teacher the reason, and she had informed me that it was to facilitate the entry and exit of people.

Nerves pricked my skin with each passing second as another row of people appeared in the audience. Kayleen was already in the front row, waving at me and smiling with encouragement. I searched for a sign from my parents, but only my classmates' parents were present. Dante had not assured me he would come. I wanted him to see me play Kreutzer. I had practiced so many times hoping my best friend would see how I could overcome my insecurities. I wanted him to see that I was just as good as he was.

However, Faulkner informed me that the day was also important to him, and our paths would likely not cross at that moment. I sighed in disappointment but promised I would ask someone to film it. Dante didn’t smile or seem pleased.

“Ten minutes left. Take your places,” the teacher declared, and the group collectively stood up and went to the stage.

I was in the second row, with three other girls. Although I had also learned the compositions on piano, I preferred to play the violin. The sound that came from the strings with each note played was deliciously pleasant to hear. It felt more spontaneous to me than having to press the piano keys, where concentration had to be at a peak.

“That’s a lie…”

“No. It’s true. I heard the cop talking about it yesterday.”

A duo of girls was whispering next to me, interrupting my thoughts and pulling me into their conversation.

“What are you talking about?”

The two girls stared at me as if I were some kind of disguised parasite, but quickly invited me to join the dialogue.

“The day of punishment. Sic Infit.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Are you sure about what you’re saying?”

The smaller girl stepped in front of her friend, her pupils dilated in desperation.

“You didn’t see it in the social media groups?” I shook my head. “The police noticed that some people had gone missing. Do you remember, right?” I nodded. “They searched places and found an abandoned house. They found dead bodies.”

Several of them.

My stomach twisted, and a strong, ugly punch hit me.

“Who were they?”

“We don’t know for sure. Actually, there are a lot of theories, and one of them is that the president’s secretary is one of them.” A bitter taste boiled in my mouth. “The worst part is that pictures leaked showing that they had a date, Emilia. April 23rd. Today’s date. And the walls in the place were painted with Sic Infit.”

Confusion settled in my mind, my neurons working to create answers to the doubts that were emerging and gnawing at my insides. The girls didn’t stop alarming each other and talking more about it, but thinking that part of my theories involved Dante and the others made me feel anxious and created a nauseating stir.

“It can’t be a lie, can it?”

“If it were a lie, we wouldn’t have so much security here.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. They would’ve warned us.”

“Have you seen the movie 2012?” the blonde girl asked excitedly. “They never warn us. Only when the tragedy happens do the alarms go off.”

“There are no alarms here.”

“Much worse.”

I shook my head again, looking back at Kayleen in the audience. Daniel was already sitting next to her, also raising his arms and gesturing forms of sending me strength and security. He must know something. He was the person with the biggest collection of rumors I knew. Nothing escaped Daniel.

I searched for my parents again, but there was no sign of them.

“Ready?” the teacher approached our group, murmuring words of encouragement. “Let’s begin.”

I nodded, sitting up straighter in my chair. I brushed aside any negative thoughts that wanted to take root and consume my sanity.

The day of punishment. April 23rd. Sic Infit.

These were pieces creating a perfect puzzle, forming a sharp image I recognized so well. But it couldn’t be true. Not everything that seemed to make sense truly had meaning.

I positioned the violin between my shoulder and chin, the vibration of the instrument tingling through my skin before even starting the melody. Closing my eyes, breathing in so my mind could absorb what my classmates were playing was an important step for my performance.

However, my gaze rested on a distant figure. The bow continued to tear at the strings, each time the music needed a lift, I added more force. But as my mind reflected on the automatic notes, my heart visualized the person watching me from afar.

His hands in his pockets, his gaze trying to pull parts of me that I left behind as I kept playing, and his enigmatic smile taking root. Something was stirring inside me.

When I tried to discover what his pupils communicated, his shadow disappeared into the darkness. There was no more sign of him.

My heart broke into aggressive beats. For some reason, the music became shrill in my ears. Nothing made sense. Nothing was melodic.

As soon as my first note derailed, a series of others followed.

My classmates exchanged confused glances, wondering why the hell we weren’t following the music. Until suddenly, the lights went out.

And we were completely in the dark.

Several sighs, questions, and screams began to echo.

I could barely hear because I was more focused on the pressure in my chest, feeling like it was going to break my ribcage.

I put down the violin, but quickly it was thrown and broken.

“Sorry, sorry!” someone said, making me furious.

“What the hell are you doing? Shut up!” I enunciated.

Some cell phones lit up the space a little. I turned to look behind me, seeing the teacher asking us to stay calm and wait for a technician to resolve the issue. Not only her, but one of the event representatives also announced, asking for patience.

“We’re going to die.” The two girls from before murmured between themselves.

“Stop it. No one’s going to die.”

“It’s the day of punishment, Emilia. No one’s going to survive. No one.”

My breath didn’t come out in gasps because my body was on high alert for other things around me. A female scream echoed among the murmurs of the area.

Most of the cell phones turned toward the source of the sound, but in less than a second, something broke.

Gunshots were fired.

One. Two. Three.

Chaos ensued.

No one stayed seated. Despite the security guards and the representative shouting for us to remain calm, the chairs, the painful groans, and the hurried footsteps pounding the floor were the biological response of the audience.

I tried to control my breath. And then my exhale. My backpack with my bombs was in the lockers, and I couldn’t afford the mistake of losing my breath.

I was going to die there.

Without light, I fumbled for objects, stepping on some cellos, kicking a clarinet, and bumping into the piano. I couldn’t move forward, panicking at some moments. However, I needed to keep my lungs working.