Page 221 of Barinov

Nobody speaks. Nobody moves a muscle.

Movement catches my eye as Luca places a hand on the doc’s shoulders to see what he’s writing about me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head.

“I hated him. I still hate him.” I open my eyes, but Luca’s still fucking there. I sniffle, dragging in a ragged breath that won’t fill my lungs. “So why do I still wake up looking for him?”

Silence.

“I know he’s dead,” I ramble, the words flowing out like blood from an open wound. “I know he deserved it. But my fucking brain…” I slam my fist into my own thigh. “My brain doesn’t get the memo! I still hear him, smell him. I still…”

My voice disappears.

“I still miss him sometimes.”

“Of course you do, babe,” Luca says, smiling at me.

The shame hits so hard my posture collapses and I fall forward.

“What kind of fucked up person misses the man who destroyed him?”

Before I can disappear completely into my own skin, Bella is kneeling in front of me. Her warm hands cup my face, forcing my head up.

“Breathe,” she whispers.

I refuse to look at her. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No.”

She rests her forehead directly against mine. “What is your name?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Bells…”

“What is your name?” she repeats, thumbs gently brushing the wetness on my cheeks.

I nod against her. “Ezekiel Malik Blackwood.”

“You are my brother. My protector,” she says, tears streaming down her own face. “My home.” She pulls back slightly. “You are more than what happened in that hell.”

I finally force myself to meet her gaze before peering over at Luca.

He’s gone.

For now.

“We are more than what happened to us in there,” she promises.

Monroe lets the silence breathe before speaking. “That’s the most honest thing the two of you have said in the last ten days.”

I let out a single laugh. It’s broken, but real. “I hate therapy.”

The doc closes his notebook. “I think that’s enough for one day.”

“Good,” I mutter, rubbing my palms on my thighs.

“For what it’s worth,” Monroe says, removing his glasses. “I’m proud of you.”