His eyes narrowed before he became indifferent once again. “Excuse. No one can make you do anything you don’t want to.”
“You,” I said. “You’re not an excuse; you’re a valid reason.”
“Tell me what he said to you this time to make you run again,” he said.
I studied his face for a second, trying to understand what he meant, but got nothing. “This time? He told me something before?”
“Call it a fucking hunch,” he said.
“I thought Big Bismo—Club D—” I took a deep breath, truth slamming into me like a fist. “You were trying to get me to remember in the Hamartia Garden when you asked me if I ran.”
“Your weakness is my death,” he said in Italian.
Even though his comment was meant to be heartfelt, maybe even martyr worthy, it did nothing but piss me off. My hands balled into fists at my sides. “I was taught to never ask questions. Information was a dangerous thing to my health. So I didn’t. And more than that, I trusted you entirely—with my life. That was my mistake. Instead of demanding that you tell me everything, I allowed myself to be led to…wherever the fuck we are, Aniello. I might die tomorrow, and if I do, I won’t have a clue why!
“I know I love you! I love you more than life, but how can you love me, truly love me, if you refuse to share with me whatever we had that sent me right back to you—even when I couldn’t fucking remember that we had something worth dying for!”
I’d seen the life in Aniello Assanti’s face before, but after the words left my mouth, I could’ve sworn I watched as a stone statue came to life.
But it came at a price.
As his heart began to beat and his lungs took in air, a fissure that was irreparable cracked his armor, and the fire that resided deep inside of him was open for the entire world to see.
By the way he was looking at me, I was the entire world, and by my words, he was dying.
That made the two of us. Except it was his lack of words that had done irreparable damage to me.
He had the key to a time that I constantly grieved for, but instead of having mercy on me, he locked it up and hid the key in an inferno only he could survive.
Before he could repair himself and turn to stone again, I forced the words from my mouth.
“You have something that belongs to me, too, and I want it. Tell me, Aniello. Tell me the fucking truth.”
“I refuse to lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You already have,” I said.
He grinned, but it was fucking scary. “You stole my heart,” he said in Italian. “The entire world can see my veins on your skin. See how far you’ll get without me. You belong to me.”
My heart pounded hard in my chest, and my knees were weak, but I forced the words from my mouth. “Give me my memories, Aniello.Mine.”
He moved so fast and so silently that I didn’t have time to register that he had advanced on me. Not until a breath left my mouth in a whoosh as my back hit the wall. He towered over me, looking down, and if my mind hadn’t been set on finding out the truth, so I could walk away from him, I would have collapsed from fear. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, or what he was about to tell me, but the look on his face made my blood run cold.
“I killed your memories,” he said. “I almost killed you.”
My palms pressed against the building, searching for purchase. I felt as high as if I were standing on a skyscraper, during a windstorm, looking down. His chest, if I reached for it, would be like reaching for a safety net that didn’t fucking exist.
As I tried to keep on my feet, my heart thundering in my chest, a million thoughts raced through my head.
Did his wife find out at the same time I did? Is that why he wanted to kill me? To keep it from her? What made him change his mind? What the fuck was going on? How did I even get here?
I’d never felt true hate in my life, but for this man, it burned inside of me like the love I felt for him. No one could ever make me feel love or hate like Aniello Assanti, and right then, I wanted him to feel the same inferno I was in.
I had wanted out of purgatory; I was getting hell.
“Why didn’t you?” I said finally. “Just kill me. I would have been better off. Once Club D finds me, I’ll be buried alive. The other way would have been more humane, at least.”
“I’d kill myself before I touch you in malice,” he said, his voice full of hate when it should have been the opposite. “My intention wasn’t to kill you, but Richard Dalton. But the driver didn’t see me until it was too fucking late.”
