I step back, ready to leave, but Dante’s hand closes around my wristbefore I can. My heart thunders as I struggle to clear the effects of the zap rocketing up my arm from his familiar hold before peering up at him. I expect him to be furious that I didn’t keep my promise, but all I see is a silent plea for me to stay.
I do.
Don’t ask me why I fold so easily. I’m too tired to make sense of any of my actions today.
After a thankful squeeze of my hand, Dante sits beside Camille and brushes her hair back from her face before he tells a story about how it’s okay to ask for help. He explains how it can feel weak to admit you’re struggling, but that it isn’t. His voice is low and soothing, the kind that makes you believe every word he speaks.
His story breaks through to a place I boarded up years ago, a place I don’t letanyonetouch. It’s so terrifying knowing how easily he can burst through the walls I spent years building that the instant Camille’s breathing slows and her eyes flutter shut, I slip out of her room.
I can’t believe in fairy tales. How could I when my world is full of nothing but trolls, witches, and evil, vile men?
In the kitchen, a film-wrapped plate on the counter stops me in my tracks. A sticky note clings to the top of the steamy food. Its instructions are clear.
Eat.
My heart thuds painfully against my throat. I thought Dante had placed film on it to store it away. I didn’t know he was reheating it for me. I didn’t think I’d still have the right to eat his food after so poorly denying his earlier generosity.
I jump when Dante appears behind me, his steps as silent as a ghost. His eyes drift from the plate of food to me before he whispers, “Not everyone is out to get you, Lucia.” He moves so close, his breaths warm my neck as well as they defrost my snap-frozen heart. “Some people just want to help.”
I want to believe him—God, I do—but Edoardo’s warning won’t quit echoing in my head.
If I tell, he will kill Gabriele.
I have no reason not to believe his threat. Time and time again, he has proven to be a man of his word, and the nightmares that keep me awake every night are thesolereason I’ve continued to sell a piece of my soul month in and month out.
Even without the threat to my son’s life, I can’t ethically drag Dante into this. As Dante said only a week ago, his actions don’t solely affect him anymore. They affect Camille as well.
He’s striving to make this world fairer for her. I can’t let my selfishness interfere with that. If I don’t want Camille to fall into the traps I fell into when I became of age, I need to keep her out of this mess.
Even with my determination at its peak, I lean into Dante’s embrace and steal the comfort his closeness rewards me. I don’t deserve it, but I wasn’t lying when I told Edoardo I need to remember what I’m fighting for. I had no clue when I said that that I wasn’t solely referencing Gabriele. It’s also for the little girls who don’t have a father like Dante standing at their sides, fighting for them.
When Dante’s arms cocoon me, it takes a monumental effort to pull away from him, but I manage. Just.
“Goodnight,” I whisper before I slip back into my cold half of our apartment with my heart breaking like it isn’t already in a million pieces.
