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“I thought I’d never see you again,” he rasped.
I wasn’t the person he knew. She was gone. If he knew what I’d become, if they all knew, they’d hate me. And rightfully so.
Can you un-lose yourself?
I clung to Samuel for a long time, just breathing in his comforting scent, relishing in the feel of him. Eventually, he set me down and my eyes fell on Mom, who stood behind Samuel, her hand covering her mouth, tears running down her face. Dad had wrapped his arm around her, steadying her. Their anguish cut me deeply.
They thought Remo had raped me. I looked like I had been raped with my ripped and bloody dress. Mom rushed forward and embraced me so tightly I could barely breathe and she sobbed into my hair, and my heart … it just broke hearing it. And not for the first time, I wished Remo had done what everyone thought so I could cry rightfully with my mother and with all of them.
I should have told her the truth, but the words didn’t pass my lips. Soon. Dad and Samuel joined us, and I sighed, because right then I allowed myself a moment of contentment being united with them. Samuel wrapped his arm around my shoulders as he led me inside our home.
“Where’s Sofia?” I asked.
“She’s with Valentina and the kids in a safe house close by. They’ll come over soon,” Dante explained from behind me.
I nodded.
“I need to shower,” I said and regretted my words when I saw the look my family exchanged. I quickly moved away and headed upstairs into my room, starting to tear at my dress, but the thing clung to me. Angry, desperate tears gathered in my eyes.
“Sam!” I called, and in a blink he was there. “Can you … can you help me with the dress?”
He nodded and pushed my hair to the side to reach the zipper. He froze, releasing a shuddering breath. I knew what he saw: the bite mark on the nape of my neck. He leaned forward, burying his face in my hair. I allowed him a moment to gather himself even as my own heart broke and broke and broke. “I will kill him.”
A threat. A promise. Not my salvation as he hoped it could be.
He pulled down the zipper. I stumbled into the bathroom, not looking at him, and closed the door. The warm water didn’t wash away my shame and guilt. How could I remain among the people I had betrayed? How could I look into their faces knowing they had suffered more than I had?
I closed my eyes. They were happy to have me back. I had to focus on that. But why, why wasn’t I happy? I stepped out of the shower, dried myself, then wrapped a towel around my body. I stepped back out to grab clothes.
Samuel perched on the edge of my bed, his expression tight. His eyes flitted to my throat then to my thighs. My gaze followed his and I saw the hand-shaped bruises on my inner thighs where Remo had held me in place when he’d buried his face in my lap.
I felt the color drain from my face, grabbed some clothes, and returned to the bathroom. Shaking, I quickly dressed in a soft dress and tights. With a deep breath, I emerged and approached Samuel hesitantly. He was staring down at his hand on the bed, tightly curled into a fist.
I sat beside him, curling my legs under my body. Samuel raised his eyes and the look in them was like a wrecking ball of guilt. His gaze darted to my throat again, to Remo’s marks, and utter despair filled his face.
“Oh, Fina,” he said in a broken murmur. “I won’t ever forgive myself. I failed you. I should have protected you. These last two months I almost went crazy. I can’t stop thinking that I had to sit back while you went through hell. That I’m the reason why you suffered worse.” He swallowed. “When Remo sent us those sheets …” His voice broke.
I threw myself at Samuel, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my nose against his neck. “Don’t. Please don’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong.”
I did. I wronged you all.
His arms came around me, and he shuddered. “You were supposed to be protected, to be safe from the horrors of our life. I never wanted you to find out how cruel the mafia could be. No one will ever touch you again, Fina. I won’t leave your side. And one day Dad and I will get our hands on Remo, and then we’ll show him that we can be as cruel and merciless as the Camorra. He will be begging for mercy.”
“It’s over,” I whispered. “It’s over, Sam. Let’s not talk about it ever again. Please.” I knew Remo better than he did, and nothing they could do would make Remo beg for mercy.
