His eyes suddenly harden as he sheaths the pistol. “No.”
Relief doesn’t submerge me completely, though.
“Can you elaborate?” I grab the back of the chair with both hands as he uses his pocket square to clean the blood off his fingers. “Is it a no-more-bullets situation or my death is not in your agenda…for today?”
I see him fisting his hands. “Never in my agenda.”
I draw a tremulous breath—it still feels hard to breathe—then purse my lips.
“Can I offer you something? Fruit? Champagne? A swift kick in the dick?”
He grunts. I’m still angry at him. Still don’t know why he is here. I hear more firing in the distance. It makes me shiver.
“What is going on out there?”
He croaks out a rough, “We need to go.”
“Go where?” I swallow hard.
“The fuck do you think?” he clips, making me take another step back.
In three log strides, he cuts the distance between us. “Wrong direction. You’re not running from me again.”
“Running from you?” I snap. “Are you nuts, you wacko? You kidnapped me! What else was I supposed to do? I even left a note.” I punch his hard chest.
He growls, and lands one of his big paws on my shoulder. It makes me wince and jerk back as his fingers touch the injured skin on my back. He frowns, his eyes turn into slits, before he starts pulling on the back collar of my shirt enough to see the bloody bandages.
“Stop. I said stop!” I try to grab his arm, but it’s too late. He has seen them. His body turns stiff all at once as an enraged roar leaves his lips.
“I’m going to rip his hands off and feed them to him before cutting his throat!” Luca hisses venomously.
Even though the picture he painted is gory and disturbing, a ray of warmth showers my heart. I always believed his rage toward my family was justified. But seeing that same fury unleashed on my behalf is invigorating and heartbreaking all at once. It fills me with hope. It’s everything I’ve ever longed for—someone strong enough to stand by my side. Fiercely, unequivocally in my corner.
“I’m-I’m okay.” I try to placate him a little.
“No, you aren’t,sole mio,” hewhispers, voice shaking with fury.
Sole mio…my sun? Did I hear him right?
“Did he do this because of me?” he asks, clenching his jaw.
Does he feel guilty? He wasn’t the one carving my skin with a knife. He never did, even though he actually could. He hated me with real vengeance, and still didn’t torture me.
I shake my head, wanting to explain to him, but he doesn’t give me the opportunity. “He is sick?—”
“Why the fuck are you trying to find excuses for that piece of shit?” he cuts me off.
“That’s not what I am doing!” I stomp an irritated foot on the ground.
“I’m going to kill him. He can’t treat you like shit. That’s…my role,” he shamelessly states, making my mouth drop.
“Wha…do you think you hold the rights to my hellish life? Like some sort of demon?” I ask incredulously.
“If a demon is the only one who is going to fuck with you, yeah. I hold the shit out of those rights. They were signed with blood, mine and yours,” he hisses as if that makes any sense. But it actually does.
He gets even closer to me, all brimming with rage as his possessive fingers run through my hair and stop on my nape.
“The fucked-up part? I want, and will protect you from everyone else,” he whispers softly, but his words land heavily on my heart, pushing everything out like an unstoppable flood.
