I’m surprised by how deadly calm I sound when every cell in my body is screaming for this man’s blood.
Agnello struggles in my grip, but I have leverage and the element of surprise. I have a woman to protect. The urge to snap his arm pulses through me like a second heartbeat.
Adora is mine.
No one touches what’s mine.
In my peripheral vision, I see Adora hovering close by, her hands clenched into anxious balls.
“Get your hands off me, Vici!” Agnello roars.
“Do you make a habit of hitting your daughter?” I seethe.
“What I do with my family is none of your goddamn business.”
The rage that’s been simmering in my chest since I heard them arguing explodes into something white-hot and consuming.
I viciously twist his wrist, and as he cries out, the sound feeds something dark inside me.
“Wrong answer.” My voice is ice. “Try again.”
“Vincenzo.”
I want to kill him. I could kill him right now.
“Vincenzo,please.” Adora’s voice is small and scared, and it cuts through my fury like a blade.
I finally look at her. She’s pale, shaking, her eyes wide with fear. Fear of what happens after, and the consequences when I leave and she’s alone with him again.
My grip loosens slightly, though I keep a hold of him.
“Please,” she whispers again. “Just…let him go.”
Every instinct screams at me to refuse and make Agnello pay for every moment he’s made her afraid, but Adora’s looking at me like I’m the one with the power to make this better or worse.
As much as my soul is clamoring for his blood, murdering Adora’s father in front of her would inflict even deeper scars on her already wounded soul.
I care if she’s hurting, I realize with a jolt. Her heart has become precious to me.
I release Agnello with a shove that sends him stumbling forward. He catches himself against a table, breathing hard, cradling his elbow.
I step between him and Adora, positioning myself as a physical barrier. My body language is clear.
You’ll have to go through me to get to her.
Agnello straightens, his face twisted with rage and humiliation. “Get out of my house.”
“Make me.”
The words hang in the air, challenging him to pick on someone his own size.
Agnello’s face contorts with rage. “You think you can walk into my house and give me orders?”
“Think I can?” I ask, my voice dropping to something deadly. “I know I can. If you try hurting your daughter again, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
I step closer, letting him see the promise of violence in my eyes.
“She’s mine,” I tell him. “My bride. My woman. Touch her again, and I’ll kill you.”
