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"Ti amo troppo per lasciarti andare." The words slip from my lips before I can stop them. I love you too much to let you go. It's a truth that terrifies me. In my world, love is a liability, a weakness. Yet here I am, wielding it like a fucking weapon, ready to carve through anyone who threatens to take her from me.
"I don't understand," she whispers.
"I said not even hell can pry you from my grip now, cara." That's not what I said, but it's close enough for now.
We haven't talked about it, but I think she knows I'm a man of violence, one with blood on his hands and murder in his heart. But she's here anyway. In my arms. I have to believe that's because she's falling for me, too. But I'm hedging my bets. I want her wild about me before she knows the truth. It's the only way I can guarantee I keep her in the end.
It's fucked up, but I never said I was a good man. I just said I was one who needs her to survive.
"Show me," she says, her voice a siren's call that I'm helpless to resist.
"Show you what?" I ask, even as my hands roam over her, stripping her bare.
"Everything," she replies, her lips curving in a smile that's all sin and promise.
I lift her effortlessly as her legs wrap around me. My mouth crashes down on hers, claiming her as I plunge into her, deep and unyielding.
She gasps, a sound that sears itself into my memory, marking me. Fuck. I am hers, all the way down to my bones.
"Karina." Her name erupts more like a prayer spilling from lips that have kissed death too often.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, anchoring her to this moment, to me, and all I can think about is how right it feels to be buried inside her. This is where I belong—right here like this.
"God, Coda," she breathes, her voice laced with pleasure and pain as I fuck her.
"Shh, just feel," I command, though it's myself I'm trying to convince. Feel her warmth, her life, her love—feel everything but the cold hand of retribution that claws at my soul, demanding vengeance. For once, don't be me—the cold, ruthless motherfucker who lives and dies by the gun. Be hers, someone worthy of an angel.
"Coda," she whispers. "My Coda."
Her words silence the chaos churning inside me.
I hold her close and fuck her hard as her climax shudders through her. And I know one thing with terrifying clarity—I'll burn the world to the fucking ground to keep this, to keep her. Even if the flames consume me, too.
Chapter Six
Karina
Gravel crunches beneath my Sketchers as I approach the familiar red brick house where I grew up. Windows line the front of the house, too big to hide so many secrets. The American flag on the porch ripples in a show of patriotism my father only claims to feel. His only real loyalty is to himself.
Nervous energy whispers through me, but I push it down, refusing to let fear chase me away. He's at work and Coda is…well, I'm not entirely sure where he goes when he's not with me. But I drove myself to class today because he had things to do.
I didn't mind. It left me a small window to come here to collect the few things that matter to me. I think he would have preferred me to stay hidden in his condo, but I can't do that. No matter what my father is up to, life has to go on.
I won't be a prisoner to his crimes. He's tried for years to make me one. I never understood why until recently. So long as I'm under his thumb, he thinks I can't turn on him. He controls me and what I know, what I say…what I do. His warnings about not trusting anyway and staying away from men like Coda, they were never to protect me. He meant only to protect himself and his secrets.
My hand is steady as I punch in the garage code. The quiet click of the lock disengaging sounds like the start of a countdown. To what, I don't know.
Inside, the air smells like motor oil and old memories.
I think we were happy once. But it's been so long ago I barely remember it. Back before my mom left him. I always thought she was tired of being tethered to a cop. Maybe she was just tired of being chained to one who didn't deserve the badge.
I'll never know. She died before my freshman year of high school in a boating accident.
I slip through the door into the kitchen. The space is too silent, too still. Everything is neat and tidy, an extension of my father. Even here in his own home, appearances matter to him.
A place for everything and everything in its place.
Except for me. I don't fit here. Even when I tried to fake it, tried to pretend I was the perfect daughter, a storm brewed under the surface. I didn't belong then, and I belong even less now.
