The world tilts.My heart clenches, then stutters into motion again.I blink through tears and blood and grime.
“Damiano?”I whisper, trembling.“Is it… Is it really you?”
“It’s me, little flower.”His voice breaks.“I’ve got you.”
He pulls me into his arms and I break.The sob that rips from my chest is full of relief and agony and everything I’d kept buried.He crushes me against him, solid and warm and alive.
“I’m here, I’ve got you.”He breathes into my hair.“You’re safe.No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”
Around us, the gunfire has gone silent.The only sound now is the soft sobbing of the other women.
I jolt upright in his arms.“Chiara!”
“I’m here, Lee,” her voice calls.She rushes over, falling to her knees beside us, her wary eyes locked on Damiano.He doesn’t let go of me, but shifts slightly so I can see her.
“She’s safe,” he says gently.“They all are.”His jacket comes off in one fluid motion and he wraps it around my shoulders, cocooning me in his warmth.The scent of him, mingled with gun smoke and steel, grounds me.He smells like safety.
Issy’s voice drifts from behind us.“We’re alive.”
I rise on unsteady feet, Damiano anchoring me to his chest as he rises smoothly.The warehouse is a war zone.
Four bodies lie sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around them.No sign of the one I stabbed.Gian, however, is still here, kneeling, one arm useless at his side, Matteo’s gun trained on his skull.His expression is twisted, part fury, part something unholy.
Lucas has his suit jacket over Chiara’s shoulders, his arm steady and protective.The other girls hover behind them, still trembling.I turn to Damiano, emotion flooding me, crashing into me like a wave.
He came for me.
He found me.
He saved us.
Then I see his gun, tucked in his shoulder holster.Before I even think, I move.My fingers close around the grip, sliding it free.I turn and level it at Gian.
“You filthy, disgusting pig,” I snarl, voice cracking under the weight of my rage and terror.My hands tremble.I don’t know if I am strong enough to pull the trigger, but God, I want to.I want to watch him bleed.I want to erase his smirk and every twisted word he said.My finger inches toward the trigger.
But Gian only stares at me, dark eyes unblinking, daring me.I clench the gun tighter.My heart pounds in my ears and I want to throw up.Do it, Lily, a voice in my head tells me.
Then a warm hand closes over mine.
Damiano.
He steps behind me, wrapping his other arm around my waist, pulling me against the solid wall of his chest.
“Let me,” he whispers, voice low and steady.“Let me be your monster.”
I turn my face up toward him, and in his eyes, I see it.Not pity, not fear, but fierce, brutal devotion.
“Let me be your vengeance,” he murmurs.“Your darkness.You don’t have to carry this.”
I tremble.I want to be strong.I want to take the shot.But I’m so tired.So broken.My breath shudders out.
And I let go.
The gun slips from my fingers into his waiting hand.
He turns me gently, then presses my face to his chest, shielding me.
“Don’t look,” he says.
