And with these words, he condemned her to a loveless life, allowing no one to take his place.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tierney
Beep.Beep. Beep. Beep.
The steady rhythm thunked against my skull.
Pain.
I was in so much pain.
And cold.
All the way down to my bones.
The air was dry. Static. Still.
I tried to pry my eyes open, but my eyelids were too heavy.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Where was I? Was I safe? Was I home? Did it even matter?
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I slipped back into unconsciousness, letting the darkness swallow me whole.
____________
Sometimes I heard voices even though my eyes were closed. They always sounded like they were coming from above and Iwas underwater. I didn’t trust my own ears, especially when, one night, I heard the door to my room creaking open. I felt a shift in the atmosphere, the temperature dropping, like a nocturnal animal just entered my domain.
Then a brush of cold, callused knuckles over my jawline and a voice I’d recognize anytime, anywhere, under water or dirt. Dead or alive. A voice I had known since before it even spoke to me—of a beautiful monster who did very ugly things.
“You have to stay alive, Piccola Fiamma, so you can kill me like you promised.” The words were spoken softly, unhurriedly. “I’m holding you to that. Don’t let me down, Little Flame. I’m waiting on the other end.”
This was a lie.
A coping mechanism.
My heart trying to piece itself back together.
It was the morphine. The drugs. My temporary insanity.
I forced myself back to sleep.
____________
Hours, or maybe days, later, I woke up again.
This time, I managed to open my eyes. Everything still hurt like a bitch but in an abstract, indescribable way. They’d probably pumped me full of enough painkillers to kill an elephant.
Peering around, I registered a generic hospital room painted in soft blues. Lifting my head was a big no-no. I wasn’t even going to attempt such foolishness. My skull was weighed down by a headache and about ten pounds’ worth of bandages. Islanted my gaze until my pupils hurt, searching for signs, to see whether they were in English or Italian.
The last thing I remembered was being in a motel room in Italy with Achilles. He said he’d let me go.
He lied.
