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Oh my.
Morana brought her free hand up to fan her face, the cool wind doing absolutely nothing for her escalated heartbeats or her heated cheeks incited by two words. Two damn words. Her mouth. What with her mouth? What would he do with her mouth? Would he trace her mouth with his fingers? Eat at her lips with his own? Tangle his tongue with hers? Or would it be more primal? Would he let her mouth taste his flesh? Explore him? Explore the muscles on his chest, trail over his pecs, lick at hi
s scars, kiss his abs, trace lower and lower and lower...
Oh my.
Morana could feel her entire body humming with the heat those thoughts infused in her blood, rushing, pulsing, throbbing everywhere. Shaking off her musings, she inhaled deeply and tried to center her thoughts back on track. After a few seconds of deep breathing, when her skin felt like it wasn’t on fire anymore, she pocketed her phone and exited her room. Thankfully, she didn’t see anyone lurking outside the door.
Locking her room (as though that would make any difference in the Maroni household), she headed to the stairs and went down, anxious to be out and away from the house as soon as possible and into Dante’s wing. She had stuff to do today, the least of which involved ordering her clothes and calling Amara. What she’d told Dante had been right. Over the past few days, with everything happening the way it had between Tristan and her, the entire reason for their meeting in the first place had gotten sidelined.
There was still a set of dangerous codes out there, missing. There was still a nefarious someone who was trying to frame Tristan. There was still a mysterious someone well-versed with computers who was sending her random information. And now, there was also something else she knew she was going to look into, without telling anyone - the disappearance of girls twenty years ago. Regardless of her relationship or dynamic with Tristan, the truth that she had been abducted and returned, that there had been other girls who went missing never to be found again, troubled her. She needed to uncover those buried secrets. And if there was any chance of finding Luna, she would. But she could never, not until she had concrete evidence of something, let him know about it.
Lost in her head, she didn’t see Maroni coming out of the living room just as she headed towards the main door.
“Morana.”
His voice brought her up short. Morana turned to see the man walk towards her, that smile on his face that always sent eerie chills down her spine. She braced herself, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag.
“Mr. Maroni,” she greeted in a calm, composed voice.
Maroni stopped just short of her personal space, tilting his head to the side, his dark eyes scrutinizing her. “You know I’ve tried to reach Tristan for years. Last night was the first time I saw him react.”
Morana stayed silent, letting the man speak and observe her, keeping her face clean of every emotion.
Maroni smiled. “It's interesting, isn't it? The things I've done to that boy. Twenty years, I tried to break him. The more I tried, the stronger he became." He sighed. Morana felt her blood simmer as she stayed silent. "Torture, murder. He never flinched. I had begun to believe he was the perfect killing machine. Until last night, when I saw it with my own eyes. I believe I have, at last, found his Achilles’ heel. So, thank you for that, Morana.”
The venom she felt in her heart for the man reached another level. The smile on his face at the thought of bringing down the man she had come to care for made her instincts rage in a way they never had. How a man like Dante could’ve come out from this monster was a wonder. Bottling it all up, Morana smiled softly at Maroni.
She saw with some satisfaction that his smile faltered, just slightly, under his neat beard.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Maroni,” she spoke quietly, her tone soft. “You assume, with your limited mind women only make two good things - wives and whores. I’m neither. What I am is a woman who has been freed from the shackles men like you had bound me to. What I am is a woman who knows that freedom thanks to two good men who've made me believe again.”
Maroni opened his mouth to speak but Morana put up her hand, not done, the fire inside her raging now. She leaned forward, staring the man much taller than her down, her voice menacing.
“I’m not a victim. I’m vengeance,” she ground out. “Mark my words, Mr. Maroni. I am going to make you pay - for every single scar you’ve put on Tristan; for every little hurt you inflicted on Dante; for banishing Amara from her home. And for all the girls who went missing.”
She saw his eyes widen slightly at the last bit and nodded. “Oh yes. I know you’re involved. I just don’t know how. But when I do, you will pay.”
“You assume you’ll live that long,” Maroni threatened, all veneer of civility gone from his face.
Morana chuckled mirthlessly. “You say you’ve never seen Tristan react until last night. Try killing me and then see what you’ll unleash on yourself. Just try it. I fucking dare you.”
Maroni’s hand came up to her neck at her insolence, hovered mid-air, inches from her skin. Morana watched the hand, then looked back at him, staring him down, unwavering.
“You have no idea what you’ve just done, little girl,” Maroni whispered, his eyes lethal. Morana should have been terrified. This was the man who made grown men shake in their pants. But she had witnessed eyes with far more death, far more rage than his.
“I told you not to threaten me,” she stated in an equally quiet voice. “You just did. Now, watch as the dominoes fall.”
"Respect, little girl," Maroni spat out.
Morana raised an eyebrow. "Long live the king. The king is dead."
Without another word, she simply turned on her heels and walked out the main door, into the beautiful, warm sunlight. Adrenaline still coursed through her body, churning in her gut with the poison of seeing that man breathe after everything he had done. She knew in her bones he had a hand in the missing girls, somehow. He wasn’t invincible and she was going to prove it to him.
The silent figure of Vin standing near one of the pillars outside made her halt. Just as he was when he had escorted her to her room, he was quiet.
“Are you my escort to Dante’s place?” she asked him, half-expecting him not to respond. He surprised her by saying a simple “yes” in a quiet voice, taking out his dark shades from the pocket of his dark suit and gesturing for her to walk beside him.
