Page 80 of The Don’s Omega

I’m surprised by how my body recoils at the thought of Marcello dead. The very thought sends pain and anger through me. Only a few weeks ago, I don’t think I’d have thought twice about him dying. Now, the idea is horrible. It makes me feel sick.

“I’m glad you didn’t die,” I say hoarsely. “I think it’s ridiculous you think your death would have meant less than his.”

His smile is wry. “That’s because you never met Adriano.”

“And you think I have low self-esteem,” I grumble.

He ignores my comment and when he speaks, he sounds tired. “The worst part is, I was supposed to be there that day.” He meets my gaze, guilt glimmering in his eyes. “But I wasn’t feeling well, so I sent another enforcer, Donato, in my place.”

“You couldn’t have known there would be trouble. That’s not your fault.”

He laughs gruffly. “It feels like it is though. But, at the time, I thought it was okay. Donato was a good guy. Tough. Smart. He should have been able to handle anything that came up. Although, if I’m honest, I… I didn’t think there was any real danger to Adriano that day.”

“No?”

He grimaces. “All the people at the meeting had always been loyal to my family. Salvatore and Ettore were there that day. By the grace of God they survived, although they were both injured. Neither one of them had heard any chatter about there being trouble on the horizon. I hadn’t either. I really just didn’t see it coming.”

“You can’t know everything before it happens. That’s not how life is.”

“You’re right, but I still feel like I failed. I’ve run the scenario a thousand ways since,” he says. “Every version where it goes different and Adriano lives. If I’d been in the room. If I’d just gone with him instead of being selfish. I was, and am, bred for violence. Built to react when things go bad. That was the one thing I was good for. And I let my brother die that day because I was too tired to be there to protect him.”

“No. Stop it, Marcello. No one should have died that day. Not you or your brother. To think your life is less valuable is wrong.”

“Wouldn’t you feel the same if our positions were reversed? Don’t you sometimes wish you were the one with the heart condition instead of Fabio? That your death would be less meaningful?”

I wince because he’s right. “Well, I’d be wrong if I thought that. You’d tell me I was wrong for thinking that way.”

He laughs gruffly. “Probably, yeah.”

“But you think it’s different because it’s you?” I scowl, sitting up and meeting his sheepish gaze. “That’s bullshit. What happened was a horrible thing, but you dying instead of your brother wouldn’t have suddenly made it okay.”

He drops his gaze and his mouth tenses. I can see him struggling to control his emotions. He looks younger and more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him. My heart aches. I wish I could take his pain away, but I can’t. No one can.

“Sometimes,” he whispers, “I worry Mama wishes it had been me instead of Adriano.”

I give a sharp intake of breath. “No. Absolutely not.”

His cheek twitches. “I don’t know, Elio. I mean, she’d cut out her own tongue before she’d admit it, but maybe she wishes she’d buried me instead of him.”

My chest aches so badly I can hardly breathe. I can’t help myself and I hug him, holding him tight. “You’re wrong, Marcello. I can see how much your mother adores you. That’s just the guilt talking. I promise you. I know all about guilt. I know all about survivor’s guilt.”

He wrinkles his brow. “Do you?”

Face warm, I say, “I… I was supposed to go with my father the day my parents died. But I was tired and so I stayed home. My mother went instead so he wouldn’t be alone.”

His eyes flicker. “Oh.”

I nod. “So you see, I know what it feels like to be someone who feels expendable. But those are just lies the guilt tells us. Neither you nor I are expendable. We’re worthy of our lives. And I know this too, my mother and your brother would have rather died than have us take their place. You know that right? If they’d been given the choice, they’d have gladly died to save us. So doesn’t that mean our lives are worth something?”

His eyes are shiny and his cheeks flushed as he watches me.

I lean in and I kiss him. It’s a tender kiss, designed purely to comfort him. But his mouth opens and his hands move to pull me closer. I climb on top of him, holding his face. I kiss him again, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He groans and kisses me back, sliding his hands up my back.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” I whisper against his mouth. “I’m glad you’re here, Marcello. I’m glad you’re my alpha.”

“Are you?” He sounds almost like a scared kid and my heart breaks.

“Yes.” I take his mouth again, and our bodies begin to move together. Within moments he’s sliding back inside my body and I’m riding him. Our movements are frantic, mouths joined, bodies undulating as we seek comfort from each other.