I looked into her eyes. “No one will ever get the chance to hurt you again. Do you understand me? You have my protection.”
She crumbled then, her knees giving out. My arms banded around her as her hands clung to my shirt, her tears soaked my chest. She let out a strangled cry.
That was it.
I didn’t belong to anyone but her. I would serve her. No one else.
I would give her an empire,hisempire. But first…
“The names, Karina,” I growled.
“Thomas Smith, Chase Matten, and Gary Danes,” she replied thickly.
“Danes?”
“Yes.”
I tipped her chin up to me, meeting her eyes. “As in Danes Shipping?” I pressed.
Her brows came together for a second before shooting up in realization. “Yes, why?”
Danes Shipping was who the mafia had been using for the last fifteen years, their trucks ship alcohol, drugs, money, and if I had to guess…women and girls.
My hand snaked into her hair as the other grabbed her hip. “Thank you,” I said softly in an effort to cover up the roughness of my voice.
“For what?” she asked, looking up at me.
I swallowed, wondering how in the hell I got her. “For trusting me with this. For sharing your pain.” My throat felt thick with emotion, my voice rough as I tried to contain the one emotion I shouldn’t bottle up.Rage.
“I have wanted to tell you for years,” she whispered, her blue eyes wet with tears as she looked up at me.
My knuckle stroked her cheek.
“Does anyone else know?” She shook her head, and that frustrated me. “Karina, your family would've taken care of them. Those bastards would have already been dead.” It was the truth. Sullie Jones and his Crew would've strung them up like hogs and gutted them.
“I didn’t want to burden them.”
“You didn’t want to—”
She put her finger to my lips, silencing me.
My brows rose at the look on her face. Bravery. Determination. Strength.
“It was my problem to deal with, not theirs. I went to therapy for it, and after ten years, the only person I wanted to tell was you.”
She rested her cheek back on my chest, her arms wrapping around me. I looked out into the city, unsure of what to say. She began to hum a soft tune, and I swayed us. We sat in a new, comfortable silence as we processed everything.
“Are we really doing this?” she asked after a few minutes.
This.Such a small word that carried such a heavy burden.
“Define ‘this,’ angel,” I whispered, holding her tighter.
“Putting an end to Romano.”
I made a sound of agreement, because the words still tasted sour on my tongue. Aside from living on the street as a kid, the life of a killer was the only one that I have ever known. I was the person who spilled blood so it wouldn't stain Romano's suit.
“Col?”
