SICILY
‘You are capable, Milano.’
That’s what he’d said, over and over, in bouts of three with a small pause in between.I saw it then, the compulsion, the lack of empathy or emotional understanding.Milan couldn’t help this; this wasn’t achoice, but hewaschoosing not just to kill this man but to slaughter him like an animal.
I needed to get away from here, fromhim.Matteo had been right; Milan Lucca was crazy in a dangerous kind of way, and I couldn’t stand by and wait until he turned on me like he had his mother and sister. The dress, the church, the expensive lifestyle, it was all a façade for the monster that Milan was, and I’d seen who he truly was tonight.
Pain lanced through my veins as I tore my hand away from my bleeding palm and clung to the sharp edges of the shattered brick wall, using it to drag myself back toward the door and into the church’s upper floor. It was near-silent inside, the old carpet and long red drapes untouched by the blood and screams and death. The party was still ongoing, still poised and professional downstairs, still unaware of what was going on right above them. The church was too big, the walls too thick, and the conversations too loud for anyone to have heard.
A sob cracked from my throat as I began to walk fast, almost running, turning the heads of the few people who were hiding in secret conversations on the upper floor. It was quiet here, only holding the people who were doing something they shouldn’t with somebody forbidden.
I kept going, not sure where exactly to go, but knowing that it was better to be as far from here and him as possible. My cries were silent but streaming down my cheeks, blurring my vision so much that I didn’t notice who was right in front of me until I bounced from his chest.
“Holy shit, Sicily,” Matteo breathed, steadying me with a strong hand to my hip.
I looked up into his frown and the sight of him, of Elena beside him with a hand over her mouth, broke me into a flood of tears that were relieved, sad, and utterly terrified.
Their lips were swollen, their clothes crinkled in all too-telling places, and I knew exactly what they’d been doing on the upper level of the church.
“Did Milan do this to you?” Elena whispered, ripping Matteo’s tie from his neck and wrapping it around my bleeding palm. “What did he do, Sicily?”
Everything I wanted to say stuck in my throat. All the words and letters jumbled together until all I could manage to do was cling to Matteo’s shirt and sob.He smelled of warmth and a familiar cologne. Ofhome. I wanted to go there, except home didn’t exist; it wasn’t a place I could go to. Milan’s home was mine now, and I couldn’t go there, not after tonight.
“Help me,” I wept, soaking his white dress shirt in tears. “Please, Matt, please. I-I can’t, I need to get out of here.”
He placed a protective hand over the back of my head, still holding me upright with the other as he swallowed roughly enough for me to feel it through his body. “I can’t,principessa,he’s your husband.”And he owns youwas the part Matt left unsaid.
Elena pulled me from Matteo’s arms into her own, her grip on me fiercer than his. “Then I will, come on.”
“Lena—” Matteo warned, but she held her hand up, silencing him, and led me toward the staircase, one arm wrapped around my back, the other clutching my palm that had bled through Matteo’s tie.
I began to breathe in her arms. This felt safe;shefelt safe. She loved me, and she was going to get me away from this.
“We’ll figure this out, okay?” Elena said softly. “We’ll?—”
Before we could step down another stair, another powerful grip snatched me from Elena and the staircase, seizing me into a wall of muscle. I managed to lift my chin enough to find that this body belonged to the Consigliere, Adriano.
“No, no, please,” I whimpered, the sound making me feel weaker than I ever had. I pushed at his chest, fighting through the layers of bloodied, heavy dress fabric, but he was stronger, taller, and held a gun in his spare hand.
There was another man standing beside him; a tall, suited man with equally dark features, and something shiny in his left ear. It was a black cross earring, matching the one that dangled around Adriano’s neck, and I squinted at it before his eyes widened and he looked away, shifting out of my view slightly.
“What the hell happened?” Adriano demanded, holding me still. “Where’s Milan?”
I shook my head, not certain what I was disagreeing with. Maybe him. Maybe Milan. Maybe all of it.
He looked down at my dress, at my hand taped together with Matteo’s tie, then turned to Elena with a firmer expression. “I got her, go back to the party discreetly.” That sounded like an order, like he was acting in the absence of his Capo.
There was a moment of pause, and I twisted my head to the side to find Elena crossing her arms. “No. He hurt her. Look at her!”
Adriano inhaled deeply. “Go now, and I’ll pretend that I didn’t just see you with Bonafede.”
My chest tightened. Adriano was just as calculating and controlling as his boss, and if I didn’t get out now, I’d be forever trapped in a house of bloodshed and manipulation.
That didn’t mean Elena and Matteo had to suffer for me.
“It’s okay, Elena.” I sniffled, nodding to confirm what I was saying. “Go back downstairs. Make sure Fiore’s all right.”
Her hesitation made my heart swell, but the sound of her retreating footsteps soon after shattered it all too soon.
