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“‘This entire time’ has been a few weeks.”
I nodded solemnly. “Long enough that you should know the truth.”
His brows furrowed, angry breaths hissing through his teeth. I saw it; a moment of doubt, of sanity, or perhaps clarity.
My hand lowered from his face, moving to his wrist. He allowed me to pull the blade away from Renzo’s throat and bring it to my own.
“It’s not Renzo you’re angry with.” I felt the wet kiss of the blade’s bloody edge, the rush of Gio’s warm breath over my face. “It’s not Renzo you think used you.” I stepped closer until my chest bumped his, until he was forced to focus entirely on me. “If you believe I did, then kill me.” Part of me wanted him to end it. There was a certain poetry in it, really, the girl whose life was never her own, killed by the only one who ever made her feel alive.
I gripped his wrist harder and stared into those beautiful blue eyes. They were like the endless horizon on a perfectly clear day, and even now, with him vibrating with tension against me, I found the same sense of peace in them that I always had. “Do it, Gio.”
“Emilia—” Renzo started.
I held my free hand out toward my brother, cutting him off. He nearly died to save me once. I would do the same for him a thousand times over.
“Leave, Renzo.”
“No.”
“Leave, Renzo!” My voice broke with the force of the outburst. “Please.” I didn’t want him to see this, to defend me and get himself killed.
He huffed out a breath. “I know you love her, Guerra, and that is the only fucking reason I’m stepping out of this room.” There was a pregnant pause. “But if you hurt her, I will kill you; I promise you that.”
I’d never heard Renzo sound so bloodthirsty, and I had no doubt that if I died here in this room, he would try to kill Gio. My brother would die for his efforts, but he would try regardless. Maybe that was the legacy of the Donato children—to die.
The tension rose until I could feel each heavy thump of my pulse, hear each rasped breath like a gunshot in my ears. Renzo finally moved away, and I felt his eyes on me the entire time before the door clicked shut behind him. I knew he wouldn’t go far.
Then it was just Gio, me, and a hurricane of hate and pain swirling between us.
His gaze burned into mine as though he could pry what he wanted to hear from my lips. He wanted me to be the rat. Well, I wasn’t, but if he wanted blood, I’d spill mine for him.
“Okay. I’m ready,” I said in a low whisper. I tried to pull the blade against my skin, but he was like trying to move a mountain. “Do it!” I shouted, more tears now tracking down my face.
His hand trembled slightly, and with it, the blade bit into my skin, the sting all the more painful for being inflicted by him, a man my fanciful, naïve heart had thought to love.
But people like me didn’t get love.
We didn’t get loyalty.
I didn’t even get freedom.
As I stood there with blood trickling down my throat and tears streaming down my face, I was reduced to nothing, my life worthless even to myself. Sucking in a trembling breath, I closed my eyes, unable to look at him anymore. “Please just do it,” I breathed.
“Because you think you deserve it?”
“Maybe.” Killing my own father surely made me worthy of death. “Or maybe I just don’t care anymore.” I didn’t care for this endless merry-go-round of mafia bullshit that I could never get off, never get out of. I didn’t care for powerful men flexing their might and putting me on my knees every time I dared to stand tall. “Blood in, blood out, right?”
I opened my eyes and met his gaze. There was a pause where it felt as if the entire world held its breath with me. My pulse thrummed against my eardrums, too loud. A drumbeat to my impending fate.
“Emilia.” Fingers brushed my jaw before Gio’s forehead dropped to mine, a shaky breath washing over my lips.
“Do it.” My grip on his wrist tightened, and more warm blood slid over my skin.
“I… I can’t.”
“Why not? You’re so convinced I’m Sergio’s pet,” I spat the words, and despite my bravado, my entire body trembled with each rabid beat of my heart in my chest. Out of habit, I inhaled the scent of pine and mint, hating that it grounded me in that moment, that my instincts were soothed by it rather than terrified.
It felt like an eternity passed before he fought my hold and pulled away. His shoulders dropped, the aggression visibly draining from him as though it had never existed. As though the last few minutes never had happened. But they had, and they couldn’t be taken back.
