Violence (Antihero Inferno #3) - Lily White Page 0,150
is what it is. We’ll get you bandaged up. Get the house cleaned up and then figure it out from there.”
Damon nods his head and steps up to the sink to wash the blood off his hands again.
Staring at him for a few seconds, I try to really see him, see past the walls he puts up. What I see makes me as worried as Tanner and Gabe.
My brother is hiding something from me, but now is not the time to wrestle it out of him. It would only lead to another fight.
More violence.
Cursing under my breath, I turn to pull a first aid kit from a cabinet and I spend the next ten minutes bandaging his hands.
For the next half hour, we’re cleaning the floors of the house, removing all evidence of the fight, and the entire time I’m wondering what the hell I’m going to tell the guys.
Most of them won’t care, but Tanner and Gabriel are going to lose it over this.
Every so often, I glance at Damon, noticing how stiffly he moves and his refusal to look back at me.
Again, I know he’s hiding something.
The silence between us is interrupted when my phone rings.
I pull it from my pocket and don’t bother to check the screen before sliding my thumb across it to answer.
“Ezra.”
It’s Mark, my father’s lifelong yes-man. I haven’t heard from this guy since Yale. He stopped calling around the same time William did.
“I hate to tell you this over the phone, but we just received word. I’m not sure how to say this-“
“Just spit it out,” I growl, not in the mood to dance around why he called. Not that I have to guess.
A heavy breath is like a wind gust against the other end of the line.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Ezra, but your father is dead. We just received word that his body was found.”
Panic bursts through me as I slam my thumb on the screen to end the call, my gaze sliding to Damon where he stands staring at me silently.
“Is there something else you want to tell me?”
Damon’s brows crash together. “Who was that?”
“It was Mark.”
Eyes wide, Damon shifts his stance but doesn’t look away.
“What did he want?”
“William’s dead.”
His face pales, throat moving to swallow. “Fuck.”
Yeah, I think.
Because that’s all that can be said about it.
My voice is careful when I ask, “Would you like to explain to me just how badly you hurt him?”
Damon blinks in my direction, his lips a thin line, and his eyes brimming with anger.
He doesn’t answer, just goes back to cleaning.
Emily
The Inferno is an impressive group of men.
I’m not going to lie and claim otherwise. Just the sight of them is enough to draw notice, to make people nervous, to elicit soft whispers behind hands while everyone around them either worries about what they’ll do...or wants them.
I guess it depends on how you look at them. Women blush and preen, hoping to gain even the slightest bit of attention. Meanwhile, men view them as competition, yet refuse to approach a set of nine men who could easily crush them like a bug.
They were beautiful in high school. Troublemakers, yet smart. They were the rich boys who did what they wanted, when they wanted, and didn’t worry much about the consequences.
Now they are so much more than that, and the full impact isn’t really known until they’re standing together, shoulder to shoulder, their expressions tight and stern, their combined prowess and strength undeniable.
They are a work of art, and I can’t stop staring from where I stand opposite them beneath the large boughs of stately trees, the dappled sunlight dancing over the coffin that is set between us as a reverend speaks thoughtfully of a man who doesn’t deserve the mourning of a large crowd.
William Cross is dead.
The funeral, of course, became a societal affair, everybody who is anybody attending the service, all dressed in designer, black outfits, some pretending to care.
I can’t pretend, and if it weren’t for my family dragging me here, and if I didn’t know the twins would need my support, I would just as soon spit on William’s grave than be here.
Ivy and Ava stand on either side of me, their eyes set on the Inferno where they are lined up together. It’s hard not to look.
There’s just something about them that demands attention, every one of them tall and well built, their faces gorgeous, their bodies chiseled to perfection.