It’s not comfortable, and I’m tired, but Zeke is my everything, and I don’t trust Dante or the men who work for him.
I should have grabbed a pillow and blanket, at least I could have slept on the floor.
The house is eerily quiet.
There are no strange sounds, no child whimpering like the first time I’d spent the night months ago.
My body relaxes, and I begin to drift into an unpleasant sleep. My neck throbs even in slumber, and my dreams are of being chased through the forest, carrying Zeke, running for our lives.
I’m startled awake, strong arms beneath me, carrying me as I’m gasping for breath.
My eyes flash open, and Luca’s staring back at me.
“Go back to sleep.” His voice is rough, just above a whisper as he has me swooped into his arms, carrying me toward the door.
“What about Zeke?” My voice catches as I glance back at my son, sound asleep in his bed.
Luca carries me out into the hallway and then into his bedroom.
“He’s asleep. Zeke will be fine.” Luca places me gently on the mattress, and I scoot under the covers.
“I’ll be right back.” Luca heads out of the bedroom, and there’s a soft click of the door down the hall.
My clothes are in Zeke’s bedroom on the dresser. So much for changing for bed. Beneath the covers, I slip out of my jeans and toss them to the floor.
Luca steps back into the darkened bedroom and quietly closes the door.
I’m surprised he came to get me, that he even cared enough to check on where I was during the night.
I lay on my side, curled up, facing Luca as he climbs into bed beside me.
“I’m worried about Zeke,” I whisper.
“Why?” he asks. He shuffles onto his side, facing me. “He’s asleep.”
“Did you forget about that little boy, the one your father was holding in the basement?”
Luca winces and frowns, his brow twitching. “Zeke will be fine. You have my word.”
“And what if he awakens and goes looking for me?” I don’t like worrying that my son might wander through the house alone.
But that’s not my only fear.
Any one of Dante’s men, or the mafia boss himself, could go into Zeke’s room and hurt him.
The dread fills my lungs like poison, making it impossible to breathe.
I struggle to catch my breath, gasping as though I’m drowning and in desperate need of air.
Luca’s hand grazes my arm and then rests firmly against bare skin. His touch is simple yet effective, helping me breathe, but his words cut much deeper.
“You’re panicking over nothing. Our marriage will keep you and him safe.”
I scoot closer, wanting to hold him, embrace him, feel something other than emptiness and fear that are filling the void between us.
“Stick to your side.” His brow pinches and he rolls onto his back, determined to keep distance between us. There’s frustration in his words, in his face, as he pulls away from me, and I feel chilled.
Any sense of comfort is quickly erased.
