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While my marriage had been content, I wished for a future one to be what you could only read about in romance books. It was a shame it didn’t exist, and even if it did, it wouldn’t for me. To love was to lose, and I would never put myself at risk for that again.
“I have plans with my kids,” I said, not bothering to mention the rather unfortunate timing of his decision to prod into my plans and life.
“What about this weekend?” he asked, and I sighed lightly and rubbed my arms awkwardly.
His face dropped instantly, and he could read my body language well enough to know what was coming. “You should probably know I’m not interested in dating,” I said, keeping my voice as soft as I could. “I have my kids, and they’re all I need.”
“Right,” he said, rubbing his hand over the back of his head. “Of course. That makes sense.” It was comical to watch how he tried to understand the rejection, but I imagined that he didn’t put himself out there often. Not when it had taken him months to work up the courage to ask me.
“I’ll catch you later,” I said, ducking into the yoga studio to avoid the awkwardness of that conversation. I didn’t get asked out often, fortunately for me. Dealing with the aftermath was shit.
Once I was inside the studio with the calming music and my mat at the front of the room, I drew in what felt like my first deep breath of the day. The scent of rose hit me, the essential oil of the night before permeating the space in a relaxing aroma.
As much as the yoga studio had started as just a job I was qualified to do, after years of staying home with the kids, I’d quickly become dependent on it. It would be a sad day when I left town and the studio behind. When I officially saved enough money despite our benefactor funds running out, we’d move somewhere smaller, somewhere new where people didn’t look at us with sympathy, and memories of Chad didn’t assault me every time I turned around. By the time I stripped my shoes off and dropped my purse in the back of the studio, students filled the main room and laid out their mats. I went to my own, standing and smiling at my class even though it was the last thing I felt like doing.
It felt like my theme for the day.
Five
Ryker
My knuckles dripped blood as I stepped into the warehouse.
That was a first.
The stupid fucker should have listened to me when I told him to stay away from my woman. Instead, he’d laid the groundwork to ask her out. The only reason he’d walked away alive was because Calla turned him down succinctly. If she hadn’t, I’d be wringing blood from my clothes.
The black jeans on my legs felt too restrictive on my ass and thighs, too tight against my skin, and I knew they needed replacing. I’d gained more mass in the previous month than any other. When waiting for Calla to be mine became unbearable, I spent my days in my home gym or preparing for her insertion into my life. Toddler proofing my home proved interesting, but I wouldn't risk Ines and Axel's safety for the sake of keeping the aesthetic of my converted warehouse.
I could have worn one of my new suits, but I didn't want to waste them on wet work. They didn't belong in my filthy torture chamber and covered in the blood of my enemies.
My boots were fairly new, fortunately. My last victim had bled so much that the old ones filled with blood, and there was just no getting the metallic scent of blood out of them. When I thought of Calla or the kids stumbling on them, I physically grimaced.
I'd gone waterproof with my newest pair.
The black T-shirt clung to my chest and strained against my arms, and even I had to realize that if I wanted to have any chance of not terrifying the living shit out of Calla when she got a good look at me, getting bigger probably hadn't been the best way to go.
My woman was in for a shock, but she was strong. Stronger than anyone expected of her, I suspected.
Most people saw the little pescatarian, yoga instructor widow and thought life had sufficiently beaten her down. I saw how she only shone brighter for the suffering life thrust at her.
She wasn't broken. She just sacrificed every bit of herself for her kids, just the way she had even when Chad had been in the picture. But those days were done.
One more day and she would no longer be a single mother. She'd be mine. Those kids would be mine.
The way they always should have been.
"Yo, where you been?" Simon asked, grinning at me as I stepped into the freezer. Simon was classically handsome, unlike most of the rest of the Bellandis, with dark hair and eyes that attracted even the most skittish of women—lulling them into a false sense of security. Like the devil couldn’t be attractive. He glanced down at the fists still clenched at my sides. “You realize you’re bleeding, right?”
“Not mine,” I grunted.
Simon widened his eyes on my face, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. It didn’t bother me in the slightest, not with how common of an occurrence it was. “And you didn’t wash your hands?”
“I’m just going to get bloody again,” I told him, watching as Matteo’s chest shook with a silent chuckle in the corner of the room where he lurked in the shadows. So like me in some ways, but so different in others.
Namely, he didn’t have the same thirst for blood and screams that I did.
The man sitting strapped down to the wooden chair in the center of the room struggled against his binds. Matteo stepped out of the shadows as the door mostly closed behind me, leaving just a crack for some fresh air to get in. The freezer stunk like death and the floors were stained by all the blood that had spilt over the years I'd been working for the Bellandis, since Matteo's father brought me on.
