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“You aren’t helping…” I mutter, a feeling of guilt washing over me. I’m never guilty of doing anything. I have killed hundreds of people, but that woman in there has me feeling guilt. Guilt that is going to eat away at me every time I look at her beautiful face.
“I’m not trying to,” he retorts. My fist unclenches, releasing the glass onto the marble counter. It falls, breaking into a million pieces. The shards scatter in every direction, but I don’t even care as I bring my fist back down onto the counter.
“I won’t feel guilty for anything I did, Jared. It had to be done. I have killed countless….” I pause for a moment, looking him straight in the eyes. “Countless people. I have killed for no reason at all. I feel no remorse for any of it.”
“But you feel guilty for dragging her into this, don’t you?” His voice is quiet, and I can barely hear him over the blood rushing in my ears. My heart is pumping at Mach speeds, or at least it feels like it.
Do I feel guilty for it? I have held a gun to her head and wrapped my hand around her delicate neck many times. Neither of those things makes me feel guilty, though. Why? Because I knew I would never kill her. The thought enters my mind without resistance.
I can’t answer Jared even though I know the answer is deep inside of me. I have dragged someone who is, in fact, innocent into my shit hole. The very fact that he is right has me growing angrier.
“It’s not like I meant for any of this to happen…”
“You feel guilt, though, don’t you?
I’m avoiding his question. I don’t want to admit that I hate what I have pulled Amara into. I don’t want to admit that I have feelings for her. At least not aloud. Caring for someone just means another weakness.
Losing my parents has led me to believe anyone you love will be ripped from you. Caring and loving just puts an X on your back. Enemies will know how they can hurt you the most.
“You’re such a fucking hard-ass,” Jared mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just admit it. For the first time in your fucking life, you care about someone.”
“Just stop.” My muscles are taut with aggression. I feel the need to kill something or someone right away. Jared is starting to look really appealing on the ground in a puddle of blood...
“It’s not a weakness to care for someone, Enzo. I can tell you right now that when I saw you on the ground, I thought the worst. Then there she was, standing there with a gun trembling in her hands ready to take anyone out who even looked at you the wrong way. She’s stronger than you give her credit for…”
My heartbeat speeds up as it fills with adoration and something else—love? It can’t be. I don’t love anyone. Love isn’t even a word that I know how to say. Still, she saved my life, so I feel as though I am indebted to her. Most people would’ve left me there to fend for myself.
“Fuck. Okay, I feel guilty for putting her in this situation.” My clenched hands unclench as I think about her lifeless body on the ground, a bullet hole in her head, her body surrounded by a dark puddle of blood. I can’t handle it. I can’t let her die. Not at my hands.
I’m a monster, a sick and sadistic one, but I feel different when it comes to her. It is no butterflies and sunshine bullshit, but it is something that causes my heart to race and my blood to boil. She is becoming something to me.
“I knew it,” he says, smirking at me. I raise my eyes to his. He has a smile on his face. The fucker knows what it takes for me to admit something, and he’s rubbing it in my fucking face?
“Get the fuck out of here before I wipe the floor with your face.” I turn on my heels, heading to get the broom.
“I’ll remember that at your wedding, asshole. As a matter of fact, I’ll put that in the best man speech,” Jared yells after me. His words stop me in my tracks. Wedding?
I hear the front door slam and know he has taken my advice on leaving, although not before leaving me with the thought of marriage. Can I ever get married? Can I commit to someone? Will Amara even be able to handle someone like me?
She is strong, given everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours, but to have to go through it every day for the rest of her life… Can she do it? The better question is, can I let her?I walk around the house, aimlessly, going stir-crazy. For the first time in my life, I have no answers as to what to do. If the FBI is on my ass, there isn’t a lot that can be done. Hiding is all that can get them off your radar for a while. Then, the second you fall back into the limelight, they will be on your ass again.
