22
Cristiano
Iwake to the sound of sobbing. Deep, wrenching sobs that sound like a heart breaking apart.
For a moment I can’t place where I am. The ceiling is wrong. The sheets smell unfamiliar. Rain hammers against a window somewhere to my left.
Then I feel it. Warmth against my bare chest. The weight of someone collapsed against me, shaking with the force of their grief.
Mina.
Terror floods through me, sharp and immediate. She would only cry like this for our son.
“Leon.” His name comes out as an urgent rasp. “What’s happened to Leon?”
She jerks upright, her tearstained face swimming into focus. Her eyes are red and swollen, her cheeks blotchy, and her hair a mess. I’m starved for her, and she’s never looked more beautiful.
“Leon’s fine.” Her voice is thick, choked. “He’s fine, Cristiano. You’re the one who nearly died. The doctor said you… He said a lot of terrifying things I can’t bear to remember.”
The words don’t make sense. Mina is crying for me? Because she thought she lost me?
“What were you thinking?” Fresh, angry tears spill down her cheeks. “What did you think you were doing out there? Were you trying to kill yourself?”
I must be inside the Vici mansion. I try to sit up, but my body won’t cooperate. Every muscle feels like lead. There’s a dull ache in my side and there’s a fresh bandage around my midsection.
“You stood out there for days,” she continues, her voice breaking. “No food. No sleep. No water. Post-surgery. Injured. What were you thinking? Why wouldn’t you listen to me or your sister or get in that ambulance?”
I couldn’t leave her. I wouldn’t leave her. I would rather die than walk away from her and Leon.
“Go home? Leave you and Leon? Have a hot meal and watch some TV while you were somewhere I couldn’t see you? I had to be as close to you both as possible, Mina. I had to know you were safe.”
“Never do that again.” She’s gripping my shoulders now, her fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “Never. I was so afraid. When you collapsed I thought you were dead. I thought I’d killed you.”
Her voice breaks completely, and she buries her face in my chest, sobbing so hard her whole body shakes.
I lift my hand and thread my fingers through her hair, holding her against me. Even that small movement takes effort, but I don’t care. I need to touch her. I need to feel her alive and warm and here.
“You could have left me out there to die. Then you’d be rid of me forever. No more monster chasing after you.”
She lifts her head, wiping away her tears. She studies me closely, her gaze flicking back and forth between my amber eyes. Like she’s seeing someone else. A man who terrifies her.
“I should have gouged these eyes out of my head long ago,” I say bitterly. “You’re going to tell me I’m too dangerous like my father. Too broken because of my father. You’ll reject me, and then I’ll go outside and fucking die in the rain, because there’s no point living without you.”
“I don’t look into your eyes and see your father. I look into your eyes and see our son. The beautiful, happy boy we made together.”
“You do?”
She nods. “Vincenzo told me everything about the Lucanias. I know what you sacrificed to save Leon.”
“It wasn’t a sacrifice to save our son. It wasn’t a choice. I couldn’t have done anything else.”
“I thought I’d killed the man I love by being too afraid to choose you like you chose us.” She softly caresses my face, her eyes wells of emotion. “I don’t want to be rid of you, Cristiano. I love you.”
The world narrows to those words.
“Say it again,” I demand, my voice raw.
“I’ve always loved you. Even when I was terrified. Even when I ran, I never stopped.”
