TONY: Book 1 of The De Luca Brothers Series [COMPLETED]

12:

I can't look at myself in the mirror. I can't bring myself to talk to Morgan, or Nate. I can't look at my phone, or the news, or outside. I don't deserve those luxuries. I don't deserve them because I'm a killer. Not that I physically committed the crime, but I practically pointed the gun and let another person pull the trigger.

Now I'm a murderer. A sick, twisted, vile criminal who claims to dislike violence. Here I am shooting people, disabling people so that they die. Oh, and I also am an arsonist- playing with fire gets you killed.

I had been dropped off by Toro without a single word, however he kept on sending me glances through the car ride. He offered to treat my nose but I waved him off and left without a word. Morgan through a fit when she saw me banged up. She begged to take me to hospital, however being my stubborn self, I declined and asked her to help me instead.

Also my nose is broken.

Morgan walks in with a grim expression. It's Thursday and I haven't gone out of bed since I came back. Starring at blank walls whilst replaying scenes in your head often makes time fly by.

"Can you tell me what happened?" She asks me lightly, not pressuring but yearning.

I don't respond.

"Zac, I need you to get out of bed. If not for me, then for someone else," she elaborates.

"Like?" I whisper croakily.

"Your mom."

"Who won't pick up my calls."

"Nate."

"Who hasn't spoken to me since he saw me Monday."

"Then yourself!" She exclaims, baffled.

"I hate myself," I mutter.

Her eyes soften, "What happened to you to make you look so broken?"

"I'm a bad person Morgan," I whisper as my eyes begin to prick and my throat swells with emotion.

"No. No you're not. If you did something moderately bad it's because it was either self defence or it was to protect the people you love from that dangerous guy," she rants.

"I hurt somebody," I sob quietly.

"That somebody hurt you. You have a broken nose, a scratches back, a couple of bruises. You saved yourself," she grinds out. "So now that you're alive, go and get a shower. You smell. Oh! And 'cause I'm such an amazing friend, I brought you catch up work."

I offer her a small smile and take the file of papers, thanking her in the process. I chuck it on my bedside table before building up the courage to actually look at my phone.

36 texts from Morgan.
5 missed calls from Morgan.
2 texts from Nate.
1 text from Toro.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and glance at Morgan who's rummaging through my wardrobe and pulling out clothes for me to wear today. I hesitantly swipe Toro's text and inhale sharply as I read it.

Toro: Meet me on Wednesday night.

Dang it! I hide my panic as Morgan turns around and smile instead, however my heart is beating fast and dread fills my lungs.

"Go get showered and then catch up on your work. Text me when you're ready to tell me what occurred," she beams before exiting.

Trying to not to panic too much, I pick up my shower equipment and clothes before wandering to the communal showers. I have a long, calming shower that surprisingly helps lighten my mood and return to my dorm. Glancing at my clock, it's midday and the suns shining. I put my laundry in the basket and shower equipment away, but then I hear my door click shut.

I whirl around and my stomach drops as I see Toro by my shut dorm door, dressed in a pair of black joggers and a tight black tee. My mouth dries and I can't deny that he looks particularly handsome, however the cold, distant look on his face causes the earlier dread to resurface.

"Hi?"

He takes a calm step towards me, his hands comfortably in his pockets, "You didn't come yesterday."

"I didn't really reply to anyone," I mutter.

"Why?" He asks, his voice nonchalant and cool.

"F-from what happened Sunday," I stutter, taking a step back.

"Sunday?" He asks. "Sunday was nothing. I needed you last night." He steps forward.

I step back.

"It was a lot for me- we killed people, how can you be so nonplussed?" I whisper furiously, my words laced with fear.

"No, you didn't. I killed people," he shrugs. "I've killed many people."

"Oh my god," I say underneath my breath, taking another step backwards until my legs press against my bed.

He completes the distance between us and looks down at me, his gaze burning and a sadistic smile dancing on his lips, "You're afraid." It's not a question, it's a statement. I can't disagree, I am terrified of this man. This dangerous drug dealer who shrugs off death like breathing.

A soft, harsh chuckle resonates from his chest, "You're confusing."

A narrow my gaze at him, "Excuse me?"

"You jump to help your friend- twice. Face death, break into buildings, fight a man and set marijuana on fire. However once murder gets involved you get frightened?"

I only realise that this is the most hes ever spoken to me and his voice is appealing. I try to ignore the way his voice rumbles through his chest, but his accent is just so distracting.

"Murdering people is wrong."

"Drug dealing is wrong, but you act all confident to stop that. So why are you flinching at murder?"

I force my gaze to harden and sharpen, "You apparently know everything about me, why don't you tell me?"

His lips quirk up and amusement flicker in his gaze, "Oh, is it because of that."

"Shut up," I hiss, eyes flashing. I push against his chest, but he doesn't even move.

This makes him laugh, he takes my wrists in his large hand and tugs me forward into his six pack and I can't help but feel electricity under his touch. I gasp and look at him with wide eyes.

His expression doesn't waiver as an unfriendly grin remains on his face, "I don't like being told what to do. Meet me tonight, bridge, wear black at six."

"Six?" I question.

He doesn't respond. His presence leaves me and I'm left with the cold air where his touch originally was. Wordlessly, he slips out of the door, into the hallway, clicking the door shut behind him.

Only then do I realise I'm holding my breath and I let myself breathe raggedly.