He strode away from me, maintaining a distance, but I could hear him muttering a string of cuss words in Italian.
My chest burned, tears rapidly filling my eyes.I stared at his back, feeling as though my heart was splitting itself into two as I began backing away slowly.
This was the right thing.
For me and for my baby.
I spun around, slipping through an alley.Then I flagged down the first cab I saw on the main street.
I looked over my shoulder, and disappointment washed over me when I didn’t see a dark-haired man running after me.
This was the right thing, but why did it hurt so much?Why was my heart crushing itself?Why did my soul feel like it had just departed from a huge chunk of itself?
Tears streamed down my cheeks nonstop as I got into the cab.
I left Damien that night.
I left him stranded on the streets of Sicily, on a call with his father, after a savory dinner at a cozy restaurant and the soul-snatching kiss we shared.
I left him.
Epilogue
Damien
Six Weeks Later
I had walked in the valley of death, on its precipice even.I had looked it in the eye and called its bluff a lot more times than I could count.I grew up with nothing on my back, tortured, abused, and exploited.But I clawed my way to the top.All these experiences had something in common.They brought me face-to-face with death more times than I could count.Sometimes I walked away unscathed, but they’d scarred me in different ways.
Out of all these experiences, none of them hurt like the other night on the streets.I had gotten a call from my father about one of the dickheads who tried to sideline him and get out of town.He needed me to find him.But when I got back to the spot I left her, she wasn’t there anymore.
I knew she hadn’t been taken.
She ran off.
Isobel left me without flinching.
