My father watches me for a second, then swallows hard, guilt crawling up his throat like it’s choking him from the inside out.
“Because I thought you’d survive longer than me,” he finally chokes, the words brittle, jagged. “Matteo’s father, he doesn’t just kill, Emery.He breaks.He dismantles people piece by fucking piece.But it’s slow.Precise.Personal.”His voice splinters, cracking under the weight of his own cowardice.“I knew what he’d do to me.But you…” He shakes his head, like that somehow makes this better.“I thought you’d buy me time.”
I let out a laugh, it’s bitter, harsh, cracked open at the edges.It tastes like blood in my throat.
“You thought Alessandro De Luca would spare me?”I step closer, eyes locked on his, burning with every fucked-up memory he handed me.“That he would dig through all that rot and suddenly find a fucking conscience?That a man who kills for fun would give me mercy?”My voice drops.“No.You didn’t think I’d survive.”I pause, just long enough for the truth to sink in.“You just hoped I’d die quietly.”
“No,” he admits, voice splintering beneath the strain.Desperation leaks through the cracks, ugly and pathetic.“I knew he’d hurt you.I did.But I gambled.I thought… I thought your connection to Matteo would be enough.I knew you meant something to him.” He swallows hard. “I figured he’d step in before it went too far.That his father wouldn’t risk losing his heir over one girl.”
“You bet my fucking life on Matteo’s mercy?”I snap, voice shaking with disbelief and rage.“You put your daughter’s survival on the table like a poker chip and prayed some other man would step in and do the job you were too much of a coward to fucking do yourself?”My voice rises, but it doesn’t waver.It burns.“You didn’t protect me.You outsourced me.”
He lowers his head, shoulders slumping like the weight of the truth finally crushed what little spine he had left.
But it’s too late.
Shame doesn’t undo what he did.And regret doesn’t bring back the pieces he let them take.
Behind him, Matteo’s grip tightens on the gun, jaw clenched so hard I swear I hear it grind.
His voice comes low, lethal, soaked in venom and fury.“You were supposed to fucking die before you let anything happen to her,” he snarls. “That’s what it means to be a father.You don’t sell your own blood to save your sorry ass.”
My father flinches.His eyes flick to me wary now.Afraid.Because he knows that Matteo would end him right here, right now, and sleep like a baby after.
“Emery,” he says.
“No.”Matteo’s voice cuts through the room, sharp enough to draw blood.“You don’t get to say her name.Not now.Not ever.You lost that fucking right the second you handed her over—tossed her away, treating her as if she meant nothing.As if she was beneath you.”
His eyes burn through him, a slow, lethal fire.
“She’s mine now.Mine to protect.Mine to fight for.And believe me…” His lips part, the words spilling out in a vow carved into flesh.“She’ll never be collateral damage again.Not while I’m still fucking breathing.”
And as I stare down at my father, the man who chose survival over blood, I realize something.
He’s already dead to me.
Now it’s just a matter of deciding if he deserves to keep breathing or not.
Chapter Eighteen
Matteo
Iholdthegunsteadyagainst the bastard’s head, finger hovering over the trigger, pressure coiled so tight in my chest it’s a miracle I haven’t snapped.My pulse is so loud it drowns out everything but her.
I want him fucking dead.I want him gone for what he did to her.But this isn’t my call.It’s hers.
Emery stands in front of us, back straight, eyes burning like the fire that forged her into something unstoppable.
Fuck, she’s beautiful like this.Untouchable and unshaken.Rage and hurt carved into every breath, every inch of her defiance.
She hasn’t flinched once.Not when he begged, not when he lied.Not even when he looked her in the eye and tried to rewrite the past as if she didn’t remember every second burned into her bones.
I can’t stop watching her.Can’t stop feeling it.This need to protect her, to worship her for surviving what he tried to bury.
He’s still breathing, but only because she hasn’t told me otherwise.And if she does… If she gives me the word, I’ll pull the trigger without blinking.I’ll end Dante Moretti right here, right now, no fucking regrets.Because Emery’s mine now, and no one ever hurts what’s mine and walks away from it.
She takes one step forward.There’s no fear in her eyes, just fire.She’s focused, fucking lethal.
She holds out her hand.Palm up, fingers steady.Eyes locked on mine, unblinking, unwavering, like she already knows I’ll give her what she’s asking for.What she’s fucking earned.
