Aria's POV
The bell hanging over the door of the bookstore rings, and one last customer walks in, glasses perched on his nose. He browses the shelf, while I, on the other hand, resist the urge to say something cruel.
It is past nine, and darkness has settled over every surface. I pack a stack of books from the counter and balance them on my hip. "We're closing, Sir."
He turns around, and the familiar chuckle fills the room. "Got you good, didn't I?" Marcus appears out of the dark, his hair messy from the windy night. "Did you miss me?"
"You were gone forty-eight hours," I say with amusement laced in my tone. Amusement that has become so hard to get out these days.
He strides closer to me and takes the book from my hips without me having to ask. Marcus has always been that way with me. Gentle. Predictable.
I take my time packing up my bag, while I hear his footsteps shuffling around the aisles, slotting the books in place. I rest my head against the counter and take in a deep breath. It hurts. Everything hurts.
"You okay, Aria?"
I raise my head at once, staring into Marcus' concerned eyes. "I'm fine," I respond in a clipped tone.
"You can talk to me, Aria," Marcus sighs, finally brushing the subject everyone else has avoided, including his parents, the owners of the bookstore. "I heard about the death of your father. It was such an awful thing to have happened to you."
Richard Melendez. The man who controlled every bit of my life, yet loved me in his own way. I still remember the church filled with businessmen with stoic expressions, and the mahogany coffin being brought down into the earth.
"I'm fine, Marcus."
He nods. "There's a party at the lair tonight. You should come. Food, drinks…It's going to be fun."
"I have a project to read up on," I lie. Marcus drops it. He always does.
Ten minutes later, we walk out of the bookstore, and Marcus locks up. He offers to walk me to my dorm, but I tell him not to bother about it.
A frown creases his features. "It's windy, Aria. The forecast says it is going to rain."
"I am fine."
I feel his eyes on me until I turn the corner. I should feel bad for always turning him away. I know he likes me, but a lot of things are going on in my life right now. I cannot bring any more complications to it.
The night air whips harshly at me, and I instantly regret not coming out with a jacket. I cross the dark road when I notice it.
A black van, idling at the curb. My pulse races as a feeling of dread washes through me. Hugging myself tighter, I increase my pace. My dorm is only five blocks away. If I just walk fast enough…
The skies open suddenly, and the first bit of moisture hits my skin. And then the next, until it starts pouring. I start running, just as the door to the van opens.
"Aria Melendez?" a voice calls from the van. I do not even attempt to stop, pushing ahead through the cold.
But then, suddenly, a man appears in front of me, in a leather jacket. I hear the door of the van close faintly behind me, and then another person slowly approaches from behind.
My feet come to a halt, and my eyes scan the quiet street. The rain topples ceaselessly. Fear wraps its hands around my throat, squeezing hard. I don't have enough cash on me to give them. What will happen to me?
"We've been looking for you," the one in front of me says, a creepy smile etched on his face. "I would have never imagined that Richard would hide you in this place."
I take in a shaky breath and keep my head down. The water soaks through it, into my clothes.
"Talking about Richard, do you by chance have any idea where he is?"
The one behind me comes to my front. My breath hitches when I take in his face. Half of it is covered in a scar. Looks like a bad fire wound.
My lips part slightly and then clamped shut again. My palms grow sweaty from where they hold on tight to my frame. I desperately need water. I desperately need to run.
"Your father, Aria."
"He's…" the word pinches at my throat, and I take in another breath. The man with the scar shakes his head.
"Aria, we are not joking here. Tell us where your father is, and we will be on our way." I take in the knife in the band of his pants, his hand hovering above the metal blade.
"He is dead," I choke. It is really hard to think about him that way.
Dead.
"Cute story," the other one laughs. "Get in the van, princess. You are coming with us."
My heart thuds against my chest, and I take a slow step backwards. They edge towards me menacingly, not stopping until my back hits the wall. Another smile spreads on their faces.
"You can either walk to the van with your two legs, or we slash them and help you in ourselves. I doubt your father would mind if his daughter showed up a little disabled."
The scarred one gets too close, and his hands graze my upper arm. I shiver under his touch as his fingers reach my chin, gearing me to look into his eyes. My breath rages around me, and I can't stop my pulse from racing.
"You are a pretty little thing," he says. "How about we have fun with you for one night? I'm certain that will drag your father out of the darkness he has crawled into."
"I already told you!" I cry out. "My dad is dead! There was a burial and…"
The rest of my speech dies on my tongue when suddenly, blinding bright lights spill onto the street.
"What the hell?"
A sleek sports car stops on the curb. The door opens, and he steps out.
Him.
Coat as dark as midnight, the kind of face that makes people do things without knowing why. I cannot remember the last time I saw him. I had to be five, with pigtails on my head and a pout on my lips.
Damien Wolfe.
My father's best friend.
"Let her go!"