Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“The Maestro died in the fire. Burnt alive. Horrible death. At least he wasn’t alone. Well, I mean, she was dead by then, so technically he was alone I guess…” He makes a face. “But even before he died, your father took his gruesome revenge. He shared a similar punishment to your mother. Did you know that?”
He must see from my face that I didn’t. I knew the Maestro. I’d met him a few times. I’d liked him.
“By the time he died, he’d had all his fingers cut off. One by one. Like her.” I don’t even realize that I cover one hand with the other until Malek’s gaze moves there. “The worst punishment for a pianist. Even if he’d lived or she’d lived, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have been a very full life. Although I do believe she wasn’t meant to die. He didn’t mean to kill her. Not out of love, of course. No, more that he hadn’t meant to kill her yet. He’d never forgive her for her betrayal, and he wasn’t through punishing her.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I do. And you do. You know the truth. I know what you heard that day. When he came to get you both. I saw your face, Allegra. Even as you clung to him, to the murderer who butchered your mother. Who butchered you.”
I don’t respond. I can’t. He’s right. I did hear things. But no. I shake my head not for his benefit but for my own sanity. My own survival. It’s too much to take in otherwise. To process all at once. All this reality, this truth, confronting me at once.
He crosses to me in three long strides and before I can stop him, he picks up my hand with its missing finger. “I do wonder what was going through his head to order this.”
I stand and tug my hand away. “Did you kill him? Was it you?” I ask again, trying to focus on the one thing in this mess I can process without losing my mind.
“Does it really matter? After what he did to your mother? To you?”
“You don’t know anything,” I say again, shaking my head, but I know the truth. I know it. “Tell me if you killed him. Just tell me.”
“I will. But only if you tell me something first.” He tugs me toward himself, his grip hard. He was never so physical, not like an enforcer or a soldier.
I glare at him. “What?”
“Tell me that you know it was him. Your butcher father. Say you know it was him who killed her. It was him who did this to you. Because it was. And it was so easy. Just a whisper here, a whisper there.” He smiles to himself. “Say it, Allegra. Say you know that it was your father who gave the order to butcher your mother.”
“You killed him, didn’t you? You killed my father just like you killed Michael.”
He grins and I don’t know what comes over me, rage, desperation, a terror I haven’t felt in five years. Those days and nights I spent in that hell room. I don’t know, but I lunge at him, screaming bloody murder as I dig my fingers into the skin of his face, wanting to gouge out his eyes, scratching, clawing, a howling banshee.
Guards come barreling in, boots fit for war heavy on once-beautiful floors. I don’t know if Malek called them or if it was my screams that brought them running because all I could hear was the blood pumping through my veins and the chaos inside my own mind.
I’m dragged off, hands grabbing at me, fingers digging in painfully, but as I’m pulled away, I see that I’ve succeeded, a little at least. Malek’s face is bloody, his skin embedded beneath my nails, his blood red on my fingers.
“I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking murder you!” I shout.
Malek looks at his reflection in the broken, soot covered mirror against the wall before turning to me, glaring. I’m breathing hard, but when he steps toward me, I begin to fight again. But Rami has me and he’s much stronger than me, not to mention he’s a soldier. He knows how to do battle. He traps my arms and holds me tight to his iron chest.
Malek’s mouth is a hard line, his face red not only with blood, but with fury. He comes right up to me, raises his arm and strikes me so hard, my vision goes black. If Rami weren’t holding onto me, I’d be on the floor.
The room spins and it takes all I have to return my gaze back to his, fear in my heart, blood in my mouth from where I bit my lip. I spit that blood at him.
“You’re a spoiled, ungrateful little bitch just like your mother, and you need to be taught a lesson. Maybe a little time in your old room will do the trick, but if not, I have other methods.”