Volpe Read online

  Volpe

  Book One

  Katy Rose

  Volpe Copyright ©2019 by Katy Rose. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com Kindle Direct and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Authored By: Katy Rose

  Copy edited by A.G. Belle

  Edited by: Rose Bush

  Formatting by: Dez Purington with Pretty in Ink Creations

  Published in (United States of America)

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  A Warning to the Reader

  Play List for Volpe

  Prologue

  1. Kaleb

  2. Kora

  3. Kaleb

  4. Kora

  5. Kaleb

  6. Kora

  7. Kaleb

  8. Kora

  9. Kaleb

  10. Kora

  11. Kaleb

  12. Kora

  13. Kaleb

  14. Kora

  15. Kaleb

  16. Kora

  17. Kaleb

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Afterword

  Follow Me

  This book is dedicated to all the victims of child abuse and human trafficking. Rainbows always come after the worst storms. Be strong, fight on.

  Also, for Kat, who always believed in me even when I couldn’t and didn’t believe in myself. You have given me everything in your friendship.

  This book is all completely fiction. It is dark, it is twisted, and it celebrates depravity in an anti-hero. There are rape and murder aplenty in this book. I make no apologies, but I do give you fair warning to turn back now if you do not like dark thrillers.

  ** For Best over-all experience while reading listen in order**

  Overall Song: Belly Ache- Billie Eilish

  Stronger- The Score

  Frank Sinatra- Best is Yet to Come

  Pretty Reckless- Heaven Knows

  Billie Eilish- Bury a Friend

  Halsey- Eyes Closed

  Jacob Lee- Cursed

  Frank Sinatra- My Way

  Maty Noyes-New Friends

  Bryce Fox – Horns

  Billie Eilish - All the Good Girls Go to Hell

  Bobby Darin- Beyond the Sea

  Giuseppe do Stefano- Firenze Sogna

  Billie Eilish- You Should See Me in a Crown

  Have you ever watched the smoke from a cigarette? It swirls and dances as it floats away. The smoke in my lungs begins to burn from being trapped too long. Releasing it slowly, I take another drag and look over at Kora. She is my other half, has been since the beginning. I would kill for her. In fact, I have. Several times over now. She looks down at the trash bags piled in front of her. Slowly her eyes look up to take me in, a small grin twisting her lavender lips.

  “Well, get on with it. The hole won’t dig itself.” She can be quite the bossy little bitch when she wants to be.

  “Oh, fuck off Kora. Have you ever dug a six-foot hole in the ground in the middle of November? The fucking ground is frozen, okay?” Mild irritation shows in my voice.

  “Well no, that is why I have you, Kaleb. I do know that, that cigarette doesn’t help you dig any faster, though. You should really quit. It will kill you; you know?” She looks sad at the thought, and for a second, I almost buy into it. Almost.

  “I am sure I will be killed in a much more interesting way, dear sister, don’t worry your pretty little head about that. I just hope I get to torture you a little longer before it happens.” I grunt as I jump back down in the hole and continue to dig the lonesome grave another two feet down. Climbing out, I kick the thick black trash bags into the hole and cover the contents in gasoline soon after. Striking a match, I light another cigarette and then flick the still-burning match in the hole. The smell of melting plastic rushes up and burns my nose.

  The flames rush up and begin burning the garbage bags, and the flesh hidden within. Kora and I stand there in the chilly November night air and watch as the flames burn down. Gathering the lye we took from the chemistry lab, we pour it on the bones and then cover them with the dirt. I make sure the dirt is nice and flat and then fill in the shallow holes nearby as well. If anyone were to look at the filled holes, they would think seeds were planted.

  In less than four hours, we are completely done. Body number twenty-four is disposed of.

  I put my third cigarette out on the cast-iron edge of the clawfoot tub. Looking up at the ceiling, I contemplate the existential crisis that is myself. Too much money, too many drugs, and a plethora of booze and girls. It is a boring play that cycles consistently. Knowing the right people, and pretending to give two fucks about them or their opinions. The house is a museum of books no one reads and furniture no one sits on. That’s why my twin sister Kora and I decided to come to NYU. Not for the opportunities that it offers. No, the world is our oyster already. We came for the freedom to do whatever the fuck we want without a chance of embarrassing our “father.”

  Growing up in foster care taught me two things — number one, money and power talk. Number two, you don’t mean shit to anyone past what they can use you for. After a while, though, it all becomes tedious. I wouldn’t say I dislike partying or having casual sex with whomever I choose; it becomes monotonous when it happens daily. Some of the parties get exciting; when I sleep with some dude’s girlfriend or a professor’s wife. That was fun, the fight that happened after the dude realized I fucked his girl in the downstairs bathroom with several witnesses.

  A pounding at the door captures my attention, and I realize the water has gone cold during my musings. “Hurry up, Kaleb! People are starting to show up!” Kora’s whiny voice has me rolling my eyes and sinking under the water. Hurry, hurry. Everyone is always in a hurry; it seems. Do I look like the fucking cartoon rabbit off that Disney movie? No, I think not unless that rabbit is a six-four one hundred sixty-eight-pound goalie for the NYU lacrosse team.

  Chuckling at my own joke, I get out of the tub and dry off. I take a deep breath and plaster on my most panty-melting smile as I prepare myself for the leeches. Dropping the towel, I open the bathroom door and walk toward my room; greeting guests on the way. Most of the guys are used to seeing me naked since we are teammates, and there is no privacy in the locker rooms. I catch more than a few wandering female eyes, though. Shooting them a lazy grin, I keep the pace up the stairs to my room.

  “I could have lived the rest of my life without seeing your junk bro,” Beckett calls out while I walk by. He is leaning against the wall in the hall talking to the starting forward, Drake. Drake
is a classic frat guy. Walks around like he is God’s gift to women, to the team, to everyone really. Honestly, he isn’t nearly as important as he thinks he is. Oh well, welcome to my party jackass. Speaking of asses, I hope he likes the view of mine.

  Turning around, I flash him a smile before striking a pose. “Shut up Mathews, we both know you saw my ass plenty with that blonde we shared a week ago. If I didn’t know any better, I would say you are half in love with me. Not that I can blame you, though.”

  His laughter echoes off the walls as I finally make it to my room. Throwing open the door, I start a record on my father’s original Victrola record player and look through the closet for a nice suit. Old blue eyes, Frank Sinatra to all uncultured swine, serenades me as I get my shit together. Luck has nothing to do with being a lady. No, more the opposite. Ladies are staunch and conservatives — someone to take home to mother. Tonight, like most nights I want to get my dick wet, fuck around and send them packing. I know, I sound like an egotistical asshole; fuck I am. But with my last name, it is easy.

  The trick is to know your audience. I know mine and can play them like a fiddle. I don’t even have to touch your girl for her to think of me later when you are fucking her. It’s simple. Clothing: Tuck in the overpriced and pressed button-up dress shirt. Roll the sleeves up a third of the way; forearms are like female porn. Seriously. Rolex, a real one with diamonds encrusted and a dark face. Pressed slacks with nice dress shoes finish the outfit. Now, the hair. Styled with a little product from the salon on the upper East side. It holds it in place, but if a girl runs her hands through it, they don’t come out oily. A little cologne. Always something imported and expensive. Trust me; rich girls know the difference.

  Above all, though is the attitude. You have to have an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. In my case, I don’t have to fake it because I don’t. These parties and everything about them are to get a rise out of the old man. One last check and I am out the door. Headed downstairs, I see people all over, lounging on furniture and playing pool. There are a few kegs in the kitchen and pot smoke in the air. Turning right, I head to the study. The bar is packed with the best alcohol money can buy from Gold flake Patron to Top shelf whiskey.

  Pouring myself a glass of Johnny Walker Red on the rocks, I take a look around, and people watch for a while. The Boccioni sisters are here, decent figures, lame at the head. I didn't go farther. The whole lacrosse team is milling around in different levels of their conquests for this evening. The blonde from a few weeks ago starts making her way over, so I turn and walk out the door. I try as hard as I can to not make eye contact. Small talk is for business deals and grandparents only. Anyone else who does it is even more boring than I am. Everyone in my life falls into two categories, useful and not. When you are not useful, you are disposed of.

  Seeing Kora, I look around for her future doctor boyfriend before remembering they broke up a few days ago. She always goes for guys who aren't good enough for her. If I am the villain of our story, she is the princess. The artist and debutant our father loves to show off; she will make a fine wife one day. Well, she will if anyone ever makes it past her three-month rule or my overprotective side. Looking up with a bored practiced smile, Kora sees me. I raise a brow, and she rolls her eyes. Coming over, she has most of the male’s eyes on her without a care in the world.

  “That was quite the spectacle earlier. I didn’t think you were so egotistical.” Smirking, she turns to lean against the mantle with me. From here, we survey the party for trouble and entertain those fortunate enough to be invited.

  “Yeah well, you know me. Always full of surprises.” Looking down at her, I smirk and then ponder out loud, “When did this shit become so boring?”

  “About the time it became legal. But the drugs have become boring as well. I think I might be adopting a habit. I quit a few weeks ago.” She answers in a bored voice.

  “So, where do we go from here, oh wise one?” I ask in a conspiratorial tone as I watch girls try too hard and guys pretend not to notice. This is our scene, rich punk kids with too much money partying it out to forget our first world problems like how many likes per Instagram picture and if that video uploaded went viral. Pathetic really. We are so self-absorbed we cannot see past ourselves to see the real world. No one seems to care to change it though, I know I don’t. As long as it doesn’t affect me, I don’t care.

  “Become productive members of society and the shining examples of today’s youth that our parents hold us up to be?” She suggests before we both laugh at the thought of some dead-end job or boring wall street office.

  “Sure, and next week I will go volunteer at the old people’s home and children’s hospital.” Giving her a side-long glance, I see her smile a little but not enough. “We aren’t good people like that. Helping the homeless and shit is for middle-class people who expect to change the world. We know that the world is shit already. People are garbage, no matter how much money they have.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I was having a moment, I guess. Look, this party is lame, and I’m still bummed about the breakup or some shit. I don’t feel the best, so I am going to go crash.” Looking up at me, she throws back what is left in her vodka cranberry and makes her way to her room down the hall. I watch to make sure no one messes with her, and once her door is closing, I hear my name being called.

  “Kaleb, my man! Come play a round of pool with us!” I look over, noticing Brad and Levi standing in the entrance to the pool room. Nodding I make my way over grabbing a joint on my way — no sense in being a prude at my own party.

  “What are the stakes tonight? Where the Hell have you two been today?” I try to sound like I care. It seems I pull it off when they preen under my attention.

  “Oh, the usual, drinks and practice earlier. I have a paper due for political science on Tuesday. Stakes are $20 a ball. At the end of the first game, we will do a double or nothing. Money upfront.” He answers me as he racks the balls. I throw a thousand down and get my cue.

  Lining up my shot I peer over at him, “Professor Boone, right? Pompous blowhard thinks he knows it all?”

  “Yeah, you had him?” he asks as he watches me sink three balls before missing. I have known Brad for years. He is a good guy. Quiet, conservative, but not hateful in any way.

  “Yeah for two semesters now. It is all in how you deliver yourself to him. If you act scared, he will prey on you. If you act like you are better than him, he will try to knock you down. Best bet is to go in answer with confidence and don’t overshare anything.” I answer him while looking around for a beer.

  “That sounds like you have it down,” Levi says while scratching on his first turn. Levi is an easy target. He sucks at pool, he isn’t a great Lacrosse player either, but with a chance at advancement of his place on the team, he will kiss ass. Sometimes having yes men around is a good thing.

  “Well, that gentlemen is the key to life. Have confidence and if you don’t, bullshit until you do.” We all chuckle at that and continue the game. The best part of teammates is you always have them in your corner.

  After an hour and another game, I count through all twenty-eight hundred of my winnings before making my rounds to check on all the partygoers. It is past one. I usually shut it down at three. Passing by Kora's door, I knock on it by some chance she will be up. When no one answers I pull out my wallet, sliding my credit card out, I jiggle and flip the door lock. What I walked into had me both stunned and in motion in seconds.

  Drake is leaning over my sister slamming into her as her eyes vacantly stare out at the door. Her mouth moves in a silent plea for help. I don't stop and think; I act. Grabbing the nearest object, a fire poker, I raise my arm and slam the poker down across his head repeatedly. My mind rewinds itself back to when we were in foster care, and the dad got too handsy with Kora. I had tried to stop him; my little body slamming into his side. I hadn’t been able to stop his bad touches that night, or any of the other nights. I had kept trying, and the punishments wou
ld progressively get worse. The first time I got smacked on the back of the head, then hit by a belt repeatedly, until the last time he hit me in the face, and you can’t hide that kind of mark.

  I don’t stop until I can see the inside of his skull on the left side. His body slumps down onto the floor, blood pooling out of his head on the carpet. Quickly, I grab a pillow and stuff it under his head to absorb the blood. With what energy I still have from the adrenaline rush, I lift his body and throw him in the bathtub in Kora's private bathroom. I make sure the door to the hall is locked, and his blood stays in the tub. I hope Kora doesn’t mind bleaching her tub.

  Kora. Oh god. I run out into the bedroom, and she is still blankly staring at the wall. Shaking her, I call her name over and over, but she doesn’t respond. Getting up I walk to her full-length mirror and look over my appearance. There is slight blood splatter on my shirt, so I take it off and wash my hands and forearms in the sink. Catching sight of Drake slumped in the tub, I turn toward him and try to bring any sadness up. None comes. I feel no remorse. He was hurting my family. It was either Kora getting hurt or him. Walking out of the bathroom, I walked to the top of the stairs and hit the power button to the stereo. Looking at the clock, it is 1:45 in the morning.

  “Thank you all so much for coming; unfortunately, my father seems to be on his way here first thing in the morning. I have to ask you all to leave so our cleaning staff can get to work asap. Unless you would all like to stay and help clean up?” I watch with my mask of calmness in place as they flew like cockroaches when you turn a light on. I figured they would. No college student that is also an heir to the one percent would dare risk their reputation by helping. So predictable, it is sickening.