Somme Sketcher

Angelo Visconti isn’t a knight in shining armor, he’s a monster in an Armani suit.

“Please don’t ask me any questions, because I’m sick of telling lies.”

“silly little girl”

A venomous hiss escapes his lips as he slides his hand around the nape of my neck and grips me there. “All right, so you like nature. Christ, Rory. There’s nature everywhere. I’ll buy you land. I’ll buy you a whole fucking island, if you want.”

“You don’t understand I can’t leave the Preserve—”

“What’s so special about Devil’s Preserve?” he growls, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “And don’t you dare tell me it’s the fucking eagles.”

I close my eyes, blocking out Angelo’s demanding stare. I suck in a deep breath and open them again. “Come, I’ll show you.”

“My name is Rory Carter and I do bad things.”

I’m taking what’s mine”

“Yours?”

“I have killed every man on this coast that has touched you inappropriately. From Max to my own fucking uncle. These kids are next, and if anybody besides me puts so much of a finger on you from now on, they’ll be killed too.”

Seek hope where the air is salty and the cliffs are steep.

“‘Cause the night you killed him, you called Sinners Anonymous.”

“The Angels of Devil’s Dip, back together again. Fuck man, this is all I’ve ever wanted.”