Page 67 of Psycho Sinners

I slowed to stare at him, and Tyrone noticed this but didn't comment as he popped open the takeaway containers, dishing up two plates.

We ate in silence at the table, but it was strangely...comfortable. Which unnerved me in its own way. Finally, I broke the quiet, not liking the silence right now, not with what was burning in my mind.

"Who was Tess? And how did she die?"

Tyrone's chewing ceased as those dark narrowed eyes met mine. "How do you know about her?"

"Cristian mentioned her name earlier when we were baking, said she died two years ago."

He sighed and sat back, his meal disregarded as he ran a hand over his face wearily. "She was his ex-girlfriend. Fiancée, actually. I have no idea why he would have brought her up to you."

I found it hard to believe anyone could have been in an actual relationship with Cristian of all people. "She was crazy too then, I'm guessing?"

His brow furrowed as he studied me, his hands resting on the table.

"You ask a lot of questions. Things you don't need to know."

I scoffed at this. "So he can rape me and bring me harm, but god forbid I ask about his past and the woman who had him all over the place today on the anniversary of her death."

He let out a heavy sigh before reaching for his trademark whiskey and sipping it.

"My brother is...a unique person," Tyrone said carefully. "He has his reasons for the way he is."

"He's ruthless and brutal," I snapped. "Messed up in more ways than me, and that's saying something." I folded my arms, noting the way Tyrone's mouth quirked at the statement.

"He isn't entirely terrible," Tyrone countered, his tone firm. "You don't know him, the real him. The way he was before everything went to shit with Tess."

"Why? Was he all sunshine and rainbows?" I said with snark.

"In this line of business, being ruthless and brutal is necessary. He was always unique though, a bit…" he glanced over at his sleeping brother, his expression suddenly weary, "crazy, in his own way, but things changed after that mess."

"I know you're all killers," I retorted flatly. "That much is obvious with your family business. I know mafia men are bad news, so saying I just don't know him or the old him means jack shit to me. He's done things to me that I can't…" I gritted my teeth as Tyrone's brow furrowed, his gaze dropping to my two bandaged arms.

"You're indebted to us, a little rough sex and use is nothing compared to jail time."

"Getting a knife shoved up my vag isn't exactly a little rough!" I barked.

Tyrone's face darkened as he cast his brother a strange look. He sighed and shook his head before taking another swig of his whiskey, polishing it off in one go.

"What did you expect from us? You're aware of who we are, what we do," Tyrone said dismissively, his mask going up, like he realized he'd softened too much with me by conversing like a civil human being. It was the most he'd ever spoken to me.

Defensive, that's what he was being, not wanting to speak ill of his brother. Why had he even opened up and chatted with me? It was unlike him.

"I'm still a person," I hissed. "The things he's done, they're cruel."

"You know who we are, Scarlet. The things we do. You should be mindful to remember that, and be grateful you're still alive," he muttered as he stared into his empty whiskey glass.

"Grateful," I scoffed. "I never really signed up for this, and you know it."

"You still wound up with our help, we could end all this now, have you disappear," he threatened nonchalantly, like he wasn't talking about murder and rather a simple misunderstanding.

I bit my tongue, those dark eyes now locked onto mine with a strange challenge.

I was causing him issues, and he was getting tired, I could see it in those nearly black depths.

"Or, you can hold out. You’re past the halfway point. Play your part, and my brother won't kill you. Rough you up, sure, but you'll live."

"Yeah, but with trauma and nightmares that'll plague me forever," I muttered.