If Brando followed tradition, the world wouldn’t question his ruthlessness.Thisworld would think twice about touching what belonged to him.
I couldn’t stand it, even the thought of my husband stealing a monster’s heart, and I felt myself drifting further and further from the shore of my mind.
Brando seemed of the same mind.
There was no pushing him any further than he’d already been pushed. If the monster aimed to make him lose control, to kill him in a violent spurt of unbridled anger, he was sorely mistaken.
Brando was highly skilled at keeping control of his actions, unless I was the one to push him. The further the world shoved him toward the edge, the tighter the fist with which he held onto his reactions.
The blood-tainted water seemed to hypnotize Brando. He couldn’t seem to move. Then he seemed to explode out of the moment, not giving the monster a chance to catch up.
He dragged him along the floor with one arm, his other opening the door, a blast of moody light swallowing the two men up.
We followed, and the bite of the cold on my skin both cooled and sunk its teeth into new spots as well as abused ones.
Luca seemed to sense this. He called to one of the men, who unzipped a pack he carried on his shoulders, bringing out a blanket. The man went to cover me with it, but Luca stopped him mid-reach with a scathing look.
Uncle Tito took the blanket, tucking it around me.
My teeth chattered, the cold seeping into marrow, and it wasn’t only from the severe cold. It ran deeper. As the adrenaline flushed out, I felt as though my eyes had weights on them, and my body was bogged down with cold sand, bringing me to the bottom of the ocean.
My mind was a live wire, though, attempting to shield me from the cold burn around me. I imagined a superhero woman in my head, cape and all, blocking macabre thoughts with the shields on her wrists, sparks flying in all different directions.
Luca trained his eyes on me, then turned to Uncle Tito and said something I couldn’t quite understand.
All I could see was a deep blue sky, and feel the wind ripping around us, snow twirling in a maddening rhythm. It was eerie when the wind sang to make them dance with such force. Almost punishing.
I’d danced under the same circumstances before.
Words echoed from my husband’s mouth, and I understood those with sharp clarity.
“You stole my life. What you do to her, you do to me.”
Men gathered around the monster, the men who would live to tell the tale, my husband in the center. Shirts were removed, the Fausti tattoo gleaming on taut skin; some droplets of blood pattered onto the pure white snow, as tainting as blood on a wedding gown.
The black box stood not far from where I lay cradled in Luca’s arms.
It had been prepared for me.
Uncle Tito ran a chilled hand over my head. “Let me free you from this, niece.”
“The baby?”
Was that my voice?
He shook his head. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that—would it hurt the baby? Or was the baby hurt?
“No,” I said clearly. “I don’t want it.”
Uncle Tito laid a gentle hand on my head, his palm coming down to cover my eyes.
Lifting a trembling hand, a hand that seemed to rise from some place buried deep under the hardness of the earth, I went to feel for the cross around my neck but found nothing but an unfamiliar rosary.
One moment it was there, the next it had been thrown to the ground, buried underneath the layers. Still, the blood rubies winked at me, and I found myself fixated on the stark beauty of it all. But then the snow came and buried it even further, and tears began to fall from my eyes.
A scream pierced the air—mine?
The missing cross around my neck felt like a dark void in my soul, and I was frantically trying to stitch the gap together, as though it were two irreverent pieces of fabric needing to be mended together, to bring the symbol back over my heart.
