Page 274 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Her initial shock was quickly overcome by the scream she released. A scream that woke her sleeping baby.

Marcus’s wail filled the bedroom. Cara’s heart dropped into her stomach as Dom’s next hit hesitated, and he glanced up at the bed, like he was just realizing then that the baby was in the room, too. And like with her, he didn’t look at the small wicker basket with the familiarity of a man looking at something he should have cared for, on some level.

Cara’s panic ran into overdrive just like that. She had been far too shocked and unsure before to really react, though she had tried stupidly to get out of the way of the slaps and punches. Now, with a single look at a man who she thought might kill her son for a reason she didn’t understand, desperation really kicked in.

It kicked in fucking hard.

The taste of blood bloomed in her mouth, and pain radiated from her face to her chest, but Cara didn’t care about any of it. All she heard was her crying son, and the racing beat of her heart. Her struggle under the weight of Dom increased and she struck out at him. All she had to fight with was her hands, her fingernails. But she used them the best she could, punching Dom as hard as she could and feeling her knuckles crack from the impact of busting his mouth. Her fingernails dug deep into his face, scoring lines from his eyes to his lips as she bucked and kicked out her legs in an attempt to gain some kind of traction.

“Don’t fucking fight,” she heard him snarl above her.

Cara didn’t listen.

She wasn’t sure how she possibly could.

“He couldn’t just let her be,” Dom howled as his hands enclosed Cara’s throat. He squeezed hard, taking away her air and making her lungs burn. “He’d never let her be happy, not like he wanted to be. Fuck him, and fuck you.”

Blood rushed Cara’s ears. Her vision blurred. Her lips tingled with numbness, like the rest of her extremities. She swore she felt her heart slow.

She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but it was as though the world slowed down all around her in those moments. It made her far more painfully aware of the fact she was about to lose her life, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Please don’t hurt the baby,” Cara managed to get out with what last bit of breath she had left. “Please—”

“Shut the fuck up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Somewhere in the back of Cara’s hazy consciousness, she was sure that she heard a ding echo through the penthouse. Not that it mattered, because Cara didn’t even have the energy to keep her eyes open any longer, never mind pick up her fists to keep fighting.

Please don’t hurt my Marcus.

Please don’t hurt my baby.

I’m sorry for whatever I did, but don’t hurt him.

She wasn’t sure if she said those words out loud, but she thought them. Her mind screamed them until her throat felt raw and bloody, but that could have just been from the choking, too.

The happiest memory Cara could think of in that moment was waking up in the hospital the first night after Marcus was born, to find Gian singing a French lullaby to their son. She didn’t know he could sing at all, and he hadn’t noticed her awake. It was the sweetest sight—proof in an instant that no matter what, he was going to love his child.

And perhaps if one of them could make it out of this alive, she would want it to be Marcus.

He would always have his father.

Crack.

The loud sound accompanied a sudden intake of air into Cara’s lungs. Her eyes widened at the absolute agony it caused for her to breathe in, but all she saw above her was the falling form of Dom coming at her. She couldn’t even find the strength to move out of the damn way.

“Shit, Cara, just a second, baby. I got you.”

That voice … it was so beautifully, wonderfully familiar.

She barely moved at all as Dom’s dead weight was shoved off her. She clutched at her throat, taking in gulps of air. It didn’t really help.

“Look at me,” she heard the man demand. “Let me see your eyes. Don’t take in such big breaths.”

She couldn’t focus on the blurry image above her, her pupils struggling to form the shapes it needed. Careful hands touched her face, and that hurt, too.

“Christ, mon ange, look at your face. Try to calm down and focus.”

Cara did, but it didn’t help. “My baby … get my baby, please.”