Page 131 of The Ache That Stayed

My fingers trembled, but I tried to keep my voice strong.

“I’m not a child anymore.”

“I know,” he said, poison coating every word. “You’ve grown into a fine woman.”

My stomach dropped.

“So fine… you’ve got not one, but two men eating out of your palm.”

Anger flooded my veins. My phone vibrated.

“Check your message before you say anything further.”

My heart stopped for a beat. I thought I was going to pass out. I lowered myself onto a nearby step, staring at the picture.

A picture of Santino and me—not too long ago—walking out of the motel room.

My hand came up slowly, pressing against my mouth in a desperate bid to contain it all—my breath, my thoughts, the panic clawing its way up my chest.

Of course.

The SUV. The one that never moved. The one that was always just there. Watching.

“They’re out of context,” I said quickly. “You don’t—”

“Oh, I do.” I could almost feel him smirking into the phone.

“My guy tells me he could only get this shot. Not clear, but clear enough to send to a certain someone waiting for you in Sicily.”

I could hear the maliciousness drip in his voice. He wanted to destroy me again. Not the way he’d tried before. This time, he wanted collateral. He wanted to destroy everything.

But he wasn’t entirely to blame. I did this. I brought this upon myself. I was the one who let Santino in and got my feelings confused about him. I am the one destroying everything.

“No, you wouldn’t,” I whispered.

“I intend to.”

“What do you want?” I asked finally, forcing the words out.

“Come see me. In person.”

My stomach flipped. I shook my head. I wanted to say no, but the words stuck like glass in my throat. My phone buzzed again. He had sent me a location, not too far from the site.

“Tomorrow. 3 p.m., and make sure to leave your dog behind,” he added. “Or I’ll have to take care of him myself. And you won’t like that.”

My throat went dry, the words twisting into a blade pointed at Santino.

“And Pumpkin.” he paused long before adding. “Don’t make me come get you.”

The line went dead. I sat there on the cold staircase, staring at the screen. At the address. At the reality I couldn’t avoid anymore. I hadn’t even noticed the tears running down my face.

Had I been crying all this while?

I needed to fix this. Because if I didn’t, I would do it again.

I needed something—someone—an anchor. Grounding.

Marcello. The name came like instinct.