Page 139 of Vow Of Fire

The thought of leaving her in his clutches terrified me.

Not my problem, I told myself firmly. I had to let her go.

It might take a while, but eventually I’d get her out of my system. I had to. For both our sakes.

“Dante—”

“Don’t you get it?” I snapped, turning on her. “You were just a pawn in all this. A means to an end.”

I saw the punch land. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

But I wasn’t done. I needed to drive the nail in further.

“You’ve done your job. Valentina got what she wanted. The violence will self-propagate now that we’ve lit the fuse. We have no more need for you.”

“Have you gotten what you wanted?” she whispered.

I didn’t reply.

She glanced down at her wrist. “What about the watch? Was that nothing either?”

I hesitated, knowing what I said next would destroy any remaining shred of affection she still held for me.

“It’s got a tracker in it.”

Her mouth dropped open, and I saw shock, disbelief, and anger flash across her face.

“You were keeping tabs on me?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

I was trying to keep her safe. I thought if I knew where she was, I’d be able to get to her if anything happened. But I couldn’t tell her that. She wouldn’t see it the same way.

It was controlling, possessive behavior, and I was going to use it to destroy any hope of us rekindling whatever the hell this was between us.

“I was protecting my investment.”

“Your… investment?” Tears glistened in her eyes, and if I didn’t already loathe myself for crushing her, I did now.

“Yeah. Did you think my family was going to let you roam around freely when you know so much about our activities?” I scoffed, cursing how good a liar I was. “Don’t be fucking naive. You’re a liability, and you always will be.”

I watched as the light in those beautiful green eyes went out. She took off the watch and for a moment I thought she was going to hurl it at my face. She was well within her rights to do so, but that wasn’t Evelyn. She was way too classy for that.

Instead, she set it down on the coffee table.

“I’m going to pack my things now,” she said in a flat voice. “And don’t you dare try to stop me.”

“You can’t leave,” I told her, the hair on the back of my neck rising. “It’s too dangerous out there. I’ll move you to a safehouse. It’s probably best⁠—”

“I don’t want to go to a safehouse,” she snapped, cutting me off. “I want to go home.”

She kept walking.

I picked up the watch and followed her down the hallway, absorbing her fury, her anguish. It fed my own. I needed her fire to burn alongside the flames of hate consuming me.

“You are not going home,” I told her firmly. It wasn’t safe here with me, but I sure as hell didn’t want her to go back to her apartment. The Colombians had already tried to get her there once. I was absolutely certain they’d try again.

There was that stubborn lift of the chin that I admired so much. That refusal to be defeated no matter what was thrown at her.

She pushed open the bedroom door and lifted her suitcase onto the bed. Flinging it open, she threw random items into it.