THE DEVIL WEARS MY RING

ana

s the only way your

lf against the cold plaster, my breath caught in my throat. I had been on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water, a fleeting moment of

It was a tone I recognized too well the sound of surrender. A sound of a man giving in for

ity, Nevio. A to

ach churned "Leone Maurizio does not ask twi

Even in our small, god-abandoned corner of the world, whispers of the Maurizio family and the MM Mafia were enough to curdle the blood. Leone Maurizio

e tears hadn't fallen yet. My body felt frozen, nerves screaming

tammered almost weakly at least the last

s down my spine. "A blank canvas for the name of Maurizio. The deal is sealed, Nevio. She will be t

h followed, and then

ersation

e was

im passage, now stretched on like a tunnel into darkness. My heart, once pounding wildly

choed throu

ommo

for your fo

ered b

from the kitchen, her eyes

m! And don't even think about causing troub

woman she replaced. Her cruelty had been constant since my mother died when I was ten, a

reaky wooden stairs to my cold, confining room the same room that o

raw fear. I buried my face in my knees, my thin gown little protection against the bite of night. My mama 's face flashed before me – her warm smile, the sensation of her hand wrapped tightly around mine. She had been my gemstone, my one storage of untainted love. When she failed,

linquishing of my tone. I was to be handed over to the mercy of a monster, a man whose very name inseminated fear in hardened culprits. What was

and look after me. I supplicated for a phenomenon, for freedom, for someone, anyone, to deliver me from thi

he moonlight shifted, casting new murk on the walls. My heartbreaks at last beggared, leaving my eyes fluffy and my face s

in the black sky. Escape. The breath caught in my mind, a transitory, unrealistic thought. Where would I go to escape? I had no plutocrat, no connections, no

unding into my mouth. Had my father or Greta come to visit me? But the knock

e, and crept vocally to the window. Foggy old glass, but through the smut and the gr

as R

when I'd snuck out to the business. He was a traveling trafficker, he would tell me, with a kind smile and eyes that held more depth than I had ever witnessed ahea

also he gestured for

as smooth and silent as a cat, and stepped into my room. He was dressed in black, and the darkness masked his face, but

ored back, my throat raw from cry

o time for that, mia cara." His eyes were bottomless, burning, drinking in

sible. So he knew. He knew ab

ay, the words bitter- tasting as ash." To the Maurizios. To

edges of fear." I know, love. I know. And that is why I am here." He rested back on his heels, his han

, and then now it was a shining, last- rustle stopgap. But it was intimidating, also. I had no way b

ll catch us. The Maurizio family. they are

was a possibility that this day would come. I've means, connections. We can vanish. Make a new life, nearly far removed from all of this

ver imagined. Freedom. Love. Security. These were luxuries I had known. Yet

t, the words felt concave. My father had vended me. He'd chosen

, Ariana. He made it rather than you. You owe him nothing, and Greta. she will be thrilled to be relieved of you

celebrate it. The consummation, though agonizing, also filled me with an odd feeling o

rror. We would always have a secret affair, stolen ganders and furtive pledges. He woul

want. That has always been what I want." He put my hand into his own, his fritters interlocking with mine. His ha

. Dawn was n't far from here.However, I would be turned over to Leone Maurizio,

secret solace. He was the only bone who had ever shown me glimmerings of another actuality. He was

His life, he would explain to me, was complex. He never spoke of his family, or where in the world he actually abided He was just. Renzo. The traveling trafficker. And y

ckedness in the world beyond our walls. Yet what could I do? Stay then and live in terror with L

om my mama at her death. Inside it, the creased print of her happy face. H

by this time

h establishment. My decision was firm. Terror still ticked along in the recesses of my mi

. We've to move presto. Everything additional can be replaced

mprised my entire world. A minced demitasse doll, a rasped mask, one boo

ord half- stopgap, ha

fierce determination." Good. Stay

ribCage. The cold night air wrapped around me as I swung my Legs over the stave, the rough dinghy of the oak tree

the chittering of justices and my own racing heart pounding in time. Any rustling of leaves, any barking

in this shocking flight. We crawled down sluggishly, precisely, until my bases touched the soggy lawn. The earth bene

at had been neglected by Greta, to the rotten gravestone wall that marked the edge of

up, my muscles protesting vociferously. When I was standing on the cold gravestone, I glanced back one final time at the house. It was d

r. Trees stood altitudinous like silent guardians, their branches tangled into a cover ag

an the whispers of the leaves. He seized my hand again, h

es and wet earth. My bare bases, habituated to the rough bottoms of my bedroom, protested the rougher ground, but

was in a whirl of fear and a hopeless, growing stopgap. Was this actually pas

ran through me. I had survived my father's abandonment, Greta's brutality, and

next thing to do from my saviour; Renzo though mysterious but caring