Page 103 of Revenge on the Mafia

The truth came out through an agonized sigh. “He had over me.”

She stared at me. Unblinking. I didn’t think she understood me.

“Stella mia…” I searched her eyes. She had to know the truth. It was what would get her to avenge his death. “He died,” I choked, “because of me.”

She was static before me, with the color of her skin washed away to a hospital white. Seventy-three seconds passed. Each second ticked like a time bomb.

“Did you understand me?” I tipped her chin. “I was the reason he was butchered.”

Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. She just stared at me. She terrified me.

“Christ, Anna.” I gripped her by the shoulders and shook her. Willing her color back. Her fury. Her goddamn revenge plan. “If it hadn’t been for me, he’d still be alive.” I hissed. “If I hadn’t learned everything, he’d still be here.”

She shook her head slightly. I continued because she wasn’t getting it. My voice rose with each conviction, delivering proof after proof. “If he hadn’t been an influence on me, you’d be home now with him. Don’t you get that? Hell, your mother would still be alive. You’d be happy. You’d have a different life. You’d be—”

“No.”

“What?”

She shook her head. Speaking the idiotic word louder. “No.”

“You’re being a fucking idiot.”

“No.” She shook her head wildly. “No. No. No.”

“Jesus Christ.” I let go of her and clutched the back of my head.

Her breathing was escalating. Mine was thumping out of my rib cage. “Did you kill him?” Her voice cracked.

“I just said I did.”

“Did you…” She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply before opening them again. “Stab him?”

I groaned. “No. I shot him.”

She nodded slowly. Stared at me, but she wasn’t seeing me. It was something else playing out in her memory, then she frowned. “Papá wasn’t shot. I remember now.”

I groaned. “I missed.”

She stayed quiet, but after a few breaths, she asked, “Do you do that a lot?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter, Anna. I killed him.” I grabbed the knife from under the pillow and wrapped her hand around it. Her entire body trembled in my lap. Fuck. Maybe I should just eat the poison. I steadied her hold. “You can do this.” I eased my tone.

She stared at the knife. Her hands were ice beneath mine. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. She fought to take a deep breath and failed. “I killed your father,” she said in a shaky tone.

“You didn’t,” I assured her.

“I. Poisoned. Him.”

“And he survived.”

Her shocked gaze flew to mine. “What?” she choked.

“He would have survived. If I hadn’t walked into his hotel room, he would have lived for another fucking day, a year, fuck knows for how long.”

She clutched her head with one hand. “How did he die then?” She sought my gaze desperately. “He is dead. Right?”

“Without a doubt.”