Prologue
The Story Behind the Scar, a Story of Sadness, Grief, and Torture
Seven months ago in January…
Pulling his classic black Cadillac onto the side of the street, he positioned himself to watch the house. Then he looked at the clock, seeing he had timed it perfectly.
School’s out.
He flipped his lighter open and closed, open and closed, waiting for her return. Lucca had never been good at sitting still, nor was he a very patient man when he was tired. The night before had been a long one, and his body still felt it. Regardless, he had enjoyed every second of it.
Last night, he had lain Mr. Johnson to rest and held up his promise of fucking the blonde until she regretted it. Both things had satiated his dark side … for now, anyway.
Lucca flipped his lighter closed as a stuck-up BMW pulled into the driveway. He had never trusted a German car. The only thing good about it was its black paint color.
A strawberry blonde exited the car. Elle Buchanan. He couldn’t help his sneer. His little brother was in big fucking trouble.
Watching her walk to the front door, he believed the girl only got prettier the more you looked at her.
It’s going to be a shame when I have to strangle the life out of her.
One thing was for sure, the girl was going to die, and nothing could save her. It was unfortunate she had been there when the trigger had been pulled, but some girls were just born unlucky; this one in particular. She only had another month to her eighteenth birthday, and then … the end.
The stuck-up-looking car reversed, drawing his attention back to it. He wondered who would drop off a girl in this neighborhood, driving that car. Truthfully, he was a little shocked this was the address, considering the girl had come from a prep school.
His gut told him to follow the car. Anyone Elle hung out with could possibly be collateral damage if her fucking mouth blabbed too much.
Looking at the clock again, he noticed there was a bit of time before Elle left for work, so he started his car, deciding to follow the BMW.
He kept a good distance from it, following in a direction he hadn’t been expecting. This part of town was mostly owned by the city, along with some expensive restaurants and shops.
Watching the car pull into one of the most expensive shops in town, he parked on the street and pulled out his cell phone, texting the license plate number to a friend. Then he waited in anticipation, curiosity slowly eating away at him, only growing worse when the car door opened.
He immediately knew it was a woman when tall, black boots and black jeans hit the ground. The next thing he noticed was her long, silky hair. It was the blackest hair he had ever seen.
He desperately wanted a glimpse of her face, but she never turned around. Therefore, Lucca found himself turning off the car and getting out, wondering how this felt more important than anything else he could do with his time.
His instincts kept him going, following her into the store.
Lucca prided himself on being able to go unnoticed. His appearance of dark jeans, black shirts, and black sweatshirts allowed him to do just that, plus his scruffy face and hair. He could go places no one in the family could. Made men demanded attention with their suits and immaculate grooming, whereas he didn’t need that kind of attention. I have other ways to get the attention I demand.
Entering the store undetected was easy with all the expensive shit it held. He navigated the store, finding the girl in all black who seemed to be looking for a particular piece. A slight glimpse of the left side of her face revealed her soft porcelain skin. He stalked closer.
Have I seen her before?
Another small glimpse revealed her young age.
Stopping, he was about to turn around—She’s too young—but then the girl turned and went back to a table she had already passed.
His heart stopped for a beat when he saw the whole left side of her face and a striking gray eye. The other half was covered by a veil of hair. He wished he could reach out to feel the pure black strands of silk and move it to reveal the rest of her face.
Leave now. Nothing good would come of this. He should have left the moment he had noticed she was just a teenage girl. However, though he was unable to place it yet, something about her called to him; kept him from looking away from her and leaving.
The whole thing felt so wrong, yet so right. He was being pulled in different directions. His mind told him to leave, but his body kept him patiently waiting.