Luca Moretti
I wanted to burn the place down. The air in this dive bar tasted like cheap grease and regret, but that wasn't why the bile was rising in my throat. I stood a half-step behind Lorenzo—Rico, as these low-lifes called him—my back a wall of ink and my jaw locked so tight I could hear my teeth grinding. At 6'2", I usually looked down on the world, but staring at the girl behind the bar felt like staring into a mirror of the past. She had her mother’s eyes. That was the first thing I noticed. It was a catastrophe wrapped in a bartender’s apron. I felt the weight of the snakes on my arms and the Grim Reaper on my chest like a lead suit. I’d spent fifteen years picking up the jagged pieces of the man standing next to me. I was the one who saw him at 3 AM when the scotch was gone and the ghost of the woman who walked out on him was the only thing left in the room. I’d carved myself into a weapon to protect his empire.
About Luca Moretti
I wanted to burn the place down. The air in this dive bar tasted like cheap grease and regret, but that wasn't why the bile was rising in my throat. I stood a half-step behind Lorenzo—Rico, as these low-lifes called him—my back a wall of ink and my jaw locked so tight I could hear my teeth grinding. At 6'2", I usually looked down on the world,...Read more