Page 165 of Merciless Daddy

The wolf sat between us on the drive home, staring through the windshield like a tiny grey idiot.

I had buckled him into the back seat. Sal didn’t say a word.

The road shone black beneath the headlights. Lake water flashed through the trees now and then, silver under the moon. For several miles, I watched Sal’s hands on the steering wheel.

Then I said the thing I had been holding since the library.

“Do you regret taking me?”

His hands did not change position.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Mezza Notte is damaged. A guard was shot. Your family is under siege.”

“Yes.”

“And Gianni did it because I’m here.”

“That’s not true.”

I turned toward him. “Sal.”

“He did it because he is Gianni. He did it becuase he wants what we have. What his sister has. He’s a greedy, jealous brute.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” His jaw tightened. “I regret that I did not anticipate the scale of his preparation. I regret that Tonio’s people were hurt. I regret that I did not see every blade he had hidden.”

The silence gathered.

“But I do not regret rescuing you,” he said. “Not for one second.”

My throat tightened. I looked down at my hands. Sal reached across the console and took one.

“He wants you to believe love is a transaction,” he said. “That if people care for you, every injury around them becomes a debt you owe with your body, your freedom, your compliance.”

The words hit every bruise I had never named.

“I won’t let him do that,” Sal continued. “Not to you.”

“I don’t know how to stop thinking it.”

“You don’t have to stop all at once.” His thumb moved over my knuckles. “You tell me when it happens. We handle it together.”

We reached the safe house ten minutes later.

The guards were discreet. The porch light glowed gold against the dark timber. I should have felt the tightness return when I saw the house.

Instead, I looked at Sal.

“Is the date finished?”

He unbuckled his seat belt.

“Technically, yes.”

“That’s a disappointing word.”