Page 104 of Revenge on the Mafia

“You killed him.” Her voice cracked.

I didn’t see the point of denying the truth.

Her breath heaved. Her voice built up in tone. “I can’t do this. I won’t do this.” She struggled to release the knife. I tightened my grip. “No.” her tone was bordering on hysterical. “I won’t do this. I can’t. Won’t.”

“Shhh…” My thumb soothed her racing pulse point. “You can do this. Just think of your father.”

“I am thinking of him, puto gilipollas,” she screamed, her gaze whipping to mine.

Fuck. She was going to back out. I’d have to help her, but her closure could only come if she initiated it. “You must,” I insisted.

She fought to scramble away from me. I couldn’t have that. “And if you can’t, I’ll do it.” Whipping her hand up, I yanked it toward my neck.

She screamed a blood-curdling scream. It distracted me momentarily. The force of her movement shook me. Her hand twisted. The knife punctured me.

Her scream froze my heart to ice. The hollowness of it, the pain, the rage, the desolation twisted my insides.

My hold on her dropped. She stumbled off me. “Shhh… stella mia, it’s okay. I’m fine…”

“No.” Her raw cry echoed through the room as she hysterically pulled at me and shoved me off at the same time. “No. No. No.”

Footsteps thundered, and the door flew open. The doctor burst in with her medical bag. She took one look at my bleeding shoulder and rushed over to me.

“No,” I snapped. “You need to calm her down.”

She dared to hesitate. “But you’re—”

“I told you my wife was your fucking patient.” I shoved her away from me and toward Anna, who was crawling away from me to the corner of the room. “Do it now before I fucking off you myself.”

She staggered back and fumbled for her syringe. But when she pulled it out, Anna lost it entirely. Jesus Christ. She pulled the closet door open and tried to crawl into it. And knowing why she was doing it made me want to stab my fucking heart out and make her play darts with it.

“I don’t think I can sedate her.”

“You’d think.” I shoved her away. “Get the fuck out of here if you can’t handle my wife.”

“But I—”

I didn’t register the nonsense coming out of her and moved toward Anna. Instead of dying down, her screams intensified at the sight of the blood oozing out of my shoulder.

“For fuck’s sake.” I ripped my shirt off, twisted it, rolled it under my arm, and tied it into a knot. Then I forced myself to slow down and walk toward her before sinking to my knees. She squeezed herself into a tight ball. I dragged her into my arms, and even though she fought me like a wildcat, I gripped her chin and pressed my lips to hers. She gasped and sobbed. Her nails scraped lines down my skin. But I gripped her chilled body tightly to mine. Heartbeats fighting together, mixing, churning, and struggling to find a rhythm.

She escaped my grip and yanked her mouth away, burying her head in my chest. Her hands pinched my skin as they crawled all over me, but slowly her screaming melted into painful whimpers. I pulled away to follow her movements. Eyes wide open, she was tracing my tattoos. From hip to shoulder to arm. My entire left side where bougainvillea vines climbed and reached for her star around my heart. Interwoven in it was her name. Again and again. A lone sob wretched from her chest. A shiver vibrated through her body.

I gathered her closer, threading my hand through her hair. “You’re safe,” I whispered over and over again as she dragged her fingers over my skin, and finally, finally stopped sobbing entirely and fell into an exhausted sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

ANNA

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Pulling my gaze away from his silk sheets felt like abandoning my safety net on a storm-filled sea. For the past fourteen hours, I hadn’t left my safe haven. Just the memory of what had happened spiked my heart rate again. Thundering and seizing my entire body. My gaze reluctantly climbed him. The black suit pants, the black shirt. That was all I could take in. I couldn’t look at him anymore. If I did, I’d see the blood on him. Then I’d see his inked side. Vines threading from his hip all the way to his wrist. Fuchsia bougainvilleas, circling the star around his heart and leading up it, interwoven within it, inked into his skin, again and again. Anna. Anna. Anna. It was as if he’d drawn a map, a route to lead me to his heart. The saddest part was that he didn’t even realize I’d already found it. Tripped over it. Embraced it.

“Anna.” How could he sound so calm when he was cracking inside? “Look at me.” I shrank into myself, creeping against the headboard. I couldn’t. If I did…

“Look. At. Me.” He took a step forward.

My breath hitched. I sucked in a deep breath and ever so slowly exhaled it. Then I forced my gaze up. He looked at me with unwavering focus. His eyes weren’t cold anymore. They showed me everything. His pain, his strength, and what he thought was his weakness. It was all too much. Twisted me inside out. The force of it drew a visceral reaction from me. Stumbling off the bed, I barely made it to the toilet before I puked everything I’d eaten in the past fourteen hours. Which was absolutely nothing. A brush of heat burned my scalp. He was soothing my hair, tucking it out of the way. I would have laughed if I had the energy for it.