Savio
Her anguish spread across her face as she realized what I’d just told her. I had to force myself to watch her expression shift. Her love for her brother was written in her eyes as her gaze met mine. I felt her body crash into mine, and the force nearly knocked me off my feet. She began to cry, her fists pounding against my chest.
“Why? How could you do this?”
Her tears streamed down her face as she slammed her fists again. I had to step back, unsure of how to make her feel better. She had her forehead to my chest as she cried. The sorrow in her cries was palpable. Her pain resonated in the shed, causing my stomach to knot. I wished I hadn’t been the one to tell her. She deserved to hear it from her family—from Lucia—but they were refused visits.
They didn’t deserve it. The thought rattled through my mind, making me realize just how awful we’d treated them. Alessandra being trapped in that cell, and Antonio and Giorgio being tortured—it was all so wrong. Their parents were dead. I was beginning to realize just how much damage my father had caused, and seeing her cry, feeling her shaking in my arms, only made me feel overwhelmingly sick to my stomach.
“It’s not what you think,” I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering. “One of my father’s men killed him. Lucia tried to help him escape.”
Her entire body shook. She fell to her knees, and I held her. She sobbed, and I clenched my hand into a fist. I wanted to make things better. I didn’t want to have to be the one to break the news, but there was no going back. Her pain was like nothing I’d seen before, and I’d seen a number of tragic moments—including torture. This was something different. I’d never witnessed such horrifying grief in my life, and I wasn’t sure where to go from there. I brought her close to my chest, even though she continued to pound her fists against my black t-shirt.
I wanted to apologize for everything.
Still, where would I have started? Considering that my family was behind the tragic end of her parents and now, slowly, the absolute destruction of her family, I couldn’t think of a single thing I could say that would make things better. Her punches grew softer, and the pain rose from my chest from where she’d hit me over and over again. Her thin blue dress was soft against my fingertips as I held her close. Nothing I could say would bring her brother back. I was aware of that. I also knew that I couldn’t let her go, not without risking my own life.
She pulled back and brought her hands to her face, wiping away the innumerable tears. She sobbed and stared at me. I could almost feel the rage in her eyes. “What do you even want from me?”
I was silent as I glanced down at her. The moonlight cascaded in from an old, dust-covered window behind her. It illuminated her long hair, which had become a mess. I tried to fix the strands of hair that were attaching to her face, matted there in her tears. Her gray eyes were bloodshot from having cried so hard.
“The least you could do is answer me.”
I didn’t know how to answer her question. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to hold her. I simply wanted her. She wouldn’t understand—I couldn’t say it outright without sounding like a creep. The situation we were in was undeniable, and I would never be able to get out of the role of a villain. That was all she would see me as.
I refused to do it anymore. I wouldn’t.
I helped her wipe away her tears, and I decided then that I wouldn’t be a villain in her life anymore. I thought that I could get away with it. I thought that I would feel nothing, so long as I kept my distance and treated her like a mouse in a trap. It was enough.
I opened my mouth to answer her. Just as I did, the inexplicable happened. I felt her lips against mine as she brushed up toward me, pressing her chest against mine. Her lips were soft, even better than what I’d imagined. I didn’t think. I reacted.
I kissed her back, bringing her close to me. I held her tightly as I kissed her deeper, feeling my entire body tense against her. It was such a shock that I could only react with my body—and I wanted her. I needed her. At that moment, I was taking her in completely. She smelled of the flowery shampoo we’d left her in the cell, and, despite being trapped down there with nothing else, her skin and hair were soft to the touch.
I lowered my arms quickly, unsure as to whether or not she wanted me to touch her. It was surreal and intoxicating. My mind had been so preoccupied with thoughts of her, and I finally had her in my arms. I could touch her—she was real. It was as though the floodgates had opened, and that small gesture on her part had finally given me the push I needed.
It was my opportunity to kiss her and finally know how she tasted. My heart thrummed in my chest, threatening to leap from my ribcage. I tried to steady my hands as I brought them to her hair, kissing her back harder.
