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Her face is twisted with horror and grief, and still, she looks almost heavenly in her radiance. Her skin casts a pale glow, stark against her tear-stained cheeks, and I wonder if it’s the lighting or the fact that I’m probably concussed. Maybe both.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she throws herself on top of me as if she’s my guardian angel. Her hair falls like a curtain around me, hiding my face as her arms hold me. And though she raced through the warehouse fearlessly, I can feel her quaking against my chest.
“Please, Nico. Stop,” she sobs as her fresh floral scent envelops me, warming me like a bright summer day.
I breathe her in, hardly believing my luck. And still, I wish she would get out of the way. I don’t want her to get hurt.
“Get out of the way, Silvia,” Nicolo snarls, and though his words echo my thoughts, they immediately make my hackles raise. “He doesn’t deserve your pity.”
She doesn’t budge, shielding me from her brother with her own body as best she can.
“You’re too soft, little sister. I won’t let you give up your life and your happiness to try and stop a war. These fuckers have had it coming for a long time now, and I’m ready to kill every last fucking Veles. Starting with this worthless piece of shit you’re defending.”
“No,” Silvia insists, shaking her head vehemently. “You can’t. I won’t let you.”
Deep fury erupts inside me as Nicolo loses his patience. His left hand closes around her upper arm, and he forcefully pulls her away from me.
“Nico, stop!” she shouts.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” I snarl as he releases Silvia, and she stumbles, almost losing her balance.
For a moment, the room falls silent, and everyone looks completely confused as the Marchetti brothers’ eyes shift between their sister and me.
“What, you think I would ever hurt her?” Nicolo demands, his face livid. “You thinkyou’llprotect her?” he goads.
After seeing Don Lorenzo strike Silvia, it’s not beyond my range of possibilities that her brother would lay a hand on her. And whether he meant to or not, he touched her more forcefully than I liked. I don’t care that I’m broken and bloodied and strapped uselessly to this fucking chair. I’ll kill him if he puts another hand on her.
“Don’t even go near her,” I state flatly, leveling a thunderous look at him.
“I’m going to fucking kill you with my bare hands,” Nicolo growls, taking a purposeful step forward.
“Please, Nico, no!” Silvia pleads, gripping his elbow. “Don’t hurt him anymore… I love him.”
The last part is barely audible, but it blasts through me like a defibrillator. It doesn’t matter that my face is bloodied and broken, my ribs cracked, with cuts crisscrossing my torso. Those words fill me with a deep sense of peace. And all I want to do is take Silvia in my arms and kiss her right now.
“Iwantto be with him,” she says more confidently, making my heart swell until I think it might explode.
The Marchetti brothers might as well be statues. All eyes are riveted on Silvia now, and her eyes turn to me. The look of hope and devotion in them captivates me.
“What, is this some kind of joke?” Cassio asks in disbelief. “Are you suffering from Stockholm syndrome?”
“Silvia?” Nicolo presses, his voice shifting into a gentler tone than I’ve ever heard from him before.
It eases my tension only slightly to see that her brothers are trying to be gentle with her.
“It’snotStockholm syndrome,” she states. “Pyotr and I were both put in an impossible situation, and we just handled it in different ways. But a lot has happened since our initial betrothal. We’ve found a genuine connection, something deep and right and real. Pyotr’s changed.I’vechanged. And…” Her voice trails off momentarily, and she swallows hard. “I’m pregnant with his child,” she breathes.
All the oxygen vanishes from the room.
No one says a word. A pin drop could be heard in the silence that follows.
And my heart stops as I stare at her, my lips parting in astonishment.
She turns slowly toward me, and my heart wrenches because she looks positively terrified. Her eyes are wide in her pale face, and her delicate chin trembles. “I found out a few weeks ago. But I was going to tell you on our date tonight,” she whispers, stepping tentatively toward me.
I would give just about anything to have my hands free at this moment because I desperately want to comfort her. She looks on the verge of tears and somewhere between ready to collapse or flee. My heart hammers against my throbbing ribs as I realize that this conversation might just be the single most important one I ever have.
“You’re pregnant?” I repeat because I need her to confirm it.
