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Olivia ran to Drake. She shook her head in disbelief, staring at his face, and then hugged him.
Drake sobbed on her shoulder. “They killed him,” he repeated several times in a row. “I’m so sorry, Liv. It’s all my fault.”
She screamed so loudly it sent a shiver down my arms. I felt her pain shaking through Drake. They would need each other now more than ever.
With my dad’s hand on my shoulder, helping to stabilize my shaking body, I walked toward Alex and my brothers. Alex separated from the pack and hugged me.
I was weak and tired. The medical staff gave us fluids and made sure we were physically okay. But the mental and emotional effects of what they did to us would last forever. Every horrible thing flashed through my mind like a highlight reel.
Now I understood what it was like for Alex. She relived the worst parts of her life for years.
It took me a few seconds to recognize her touch and adapt to the feel of her warm body pressed against mine. I hooked one arm around Alex, but my movements felt strange and foreign. It was like I hadn’t spent years memorizing every inch of her body.
It had nothing to do with Alex.
I was only gone for two days, though it felt like years in that horrible place.
Hell on Earth.
Alex stepped back, running her fingers down my arms, and looked into his eyes. “Marcello, are you okay?”
More staring.
No speaking.
“Marcello.” She clutched my wrist and laid my hand on her stomach, so I could feel the boys kick. “Please, say something.”
My eyes moved to her belly. Just the feel of Alex and our kids helped to bring me back to reality. Her face and the sound of her voice were the reason I made it home.
I took a deep breath, blowing it out. My eyes widened when the boys kicked her again.
“I’m not okay,” I whispered.
She pressed her lips to mine. “I’m here for you, Marcello. Whatever you need.”
I kissed her back. “I need you.”
Always.
ChapterFifteen
MARCELLO
Idreamed of blood spilled across the floor, creeping into the stone, stopping right in front of my face. With my head turned to the side, I saw everything.
Each punch.
Tate’s last breath.
I still couldn’t get the images of those men bashing Tate’s head while Drake was on the other side of the room fighting against the restraints. Snot flew from his nose, dripping onto his shirt and mixing with the blood.
Tate Maxwell was a good man.
He didn’t deserve to die.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get that moment out of my head. It was like I was frozen in time, stuck in that cave.
With no escape.
