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“Are you sure you want to take one more step forward?” she asked. Her words sounded almost mocking. Bitch.
“Where is Alessio?” I shot back instead of answering.
“In his office.” Her response was dry. She gave me a once over. “You are very much alive. That won’t be for long, though.”
Fuck you.
“And…and what about…”
“Ayla?” she said when I couldn’t seem to find the words.
I nodded and she released a long sigh. “In her room. Where she has been for the last few weeks. She hasn’t left her room—not even once.”
That almost confirmed it. The sick feeling worsened, and I felt weak in my knees.
How was she surviving?
After we rescued Ayla from Alberto’s clutches, she hated staying in a room for a long time. She’d rather be out in the garden or walking around or out in a wider space than locked in a room.
Alessio did everything in his power to accommodate his Angel, to make sure she was at ease, happy and comfortable in her home.
And I was the fucking devil who destroyed that.
They must hate me.
I almost laughed at the thought. Right now, even I hated myself.
“I want to see Ayla,” I choked through the emotions.
Maddie shrugged, but she just looked sad. “You can. Go before Alessio finds out you’re in the room with her. He won’t be very happy.”
With Maddie’s permission, I quickly made my way upstairs. My legs froze in front of Ayla and Alessio’s room. I could walk inside. Face the truth and be done with it. Rip off the band-aid and let the wound bleed. Make it faster and easier for us all.
But I couldn’t seem to move. Fuck, I just couldn’t.
Seconds turned into minutes. It took me great strength to open the door and walk inside. My bones shook. My legs cramped. My stomach twisted. And my heart…my heart was shredded and in my throat.
Ayla was in the corner of the room, sitting on the couch with a book in her hand. She lifted her head up at the sound of me coming inside, and our eyes met. There was shock at first. Thick tension filled the room as I walked further inside. I stood in the middle for a second and then took more steps toward Ayla.
I kept my gaze on her face, because I was a weak man. I couldn’t look down at the rest of her body.
When I stopped in front of her, so close I could reach out and touch her, my eyes finally drifted to her stomach. My lungs burned, my chest ached, and I sucked in a deep breath.
My knees sank to the ground with a heavy thud, and I knelt at Ayla’s feet. She regarded me through the darkness, her green orbs flashing beautifully against the small light created from the fire behind me. The flames reflected in her eyes, and they were breathtaking.
My throat closed with emotion, and I placed my head on her lap, my hands holding on to her legs tightly. My voice was a whisper, so softly that I barely even heard it. “I am sorry.”
Chapter 8
Relief had a way of making a man like me do unspeakable things.
It had been a burden to carry, the thought of breaking this beautiful family. For weeks, my shoulders had been carrying heavy weights at the thought of causing them pain, of being the reason for their tears.
Maila was our little bundle of happiness. She was wild, beautiful, and free-spirited. A gem in our eyes. She was innocence in our world of bloodbath. Ayla’s second pregnancy brought us all a sense of peace. I wasn’t sure how to explain it, but we were happy.
It was the only way to describe it.
We were the big bad wolves of the story, the same ones who would eat your heart like their favorite dinner. Make a wrong move and we would rip you apart. Sweet and simple.
But believe it or not, a tiny human had the ability to bring us to our knees.
I pushed back a laugh. Three years ago, if you’d told me a baby would make me an emotional fucker, I’d castrate you and feed your dick to our dogs.
Now? Well, I was just an emotional fucker hugging Ayla’s knees in sheer relief. Who took my man card away? Sweet mother of all fuckery.
When I fell to my knees, it was in relief. My legs had been too weak to keep me upright, and the only thing that made sense to me was sinking to my knees in front of Ayla. In that moment, everything felt right.
When I apologized, it was guilt speaking.
I choked back my emotions before lifting my head up from Ayla’s lap. She was looking down at me, her expression surprised at first. And then she smiled a beautiful smile.
“What are you doing?” she asked, and her voice was almost music to my ears. There was no hatred or hidden anger. It was soft, just like her.
