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Once I’m finished, I leave the note on his pillow, knowing that he’ll see it when he returns home.
I step into the bath and place the steel knife against my wrist. I close my eyes. There’s pain at first, but the anticipation of what is to come soon overcomes it. I slice across my wrist, hearing the tear of flesh and veins as I cut through them. Blood seeps from the wound, a deep red in color, and I feel woozy as it rushes to my brain. I lie back and let the blood seep down my wrist, watching it flow into the bathtub.
I pray that this is the end.
“Goodbye, Elio,” I whisper, my words slurred.
I loved him. I did. I stupidly loved him just as much as I hated him. Now he can move on from the hatred he holds in his heart. He can be set free, just as I am.
NINETEEN
ELIO
Watching as she laughed with that fucking asshole pissed me off. She’s mine; she shouldn’t be with another man. But the moment he put his hands on her, I couldn’t hold back any longer. The look of tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her angered me more than anything. It was as though he knew her, and that didn’t sit right with me. There’s so fucking much that she doesn’t talk about—the scars on her ass and the backs of her upper thighs, her past. Hell, she’s not spoken about losing her friend. She just doesn’t speak.
The car ride home was intense. She was in a world of her own as she looked out of the window, whereas the anger I had was simmering on the edge.
She doesn’t say anything, not a fucking word, as we enter the house. Instead, she stares at me with those dull eyes of hers, and I realize it’s been a while since I’ve seen them bright.
“You’re pushing me, Teagan. You’re so close to having that pretty throat of yours slit. Keep your shit up and you’ll pay the consequences,” I snarl, unable to stop lashing out. She willingly went with that fucking asshole and laughed while talking with him. Something she hasn’t done with me. Not fucking once.
She doesn’t speak. She just stares at me. There’s such defeat in her stance. There’s no fire in her eyes or in her body.
My cell rings, and I pull it out and see Dario’s name on the screen. I grit my teeth. Fuck. Every time we get close, my cell rings and I’m pulled away. “Yeah?”
“There was a shootout. The fuckers tried to take Rocco out,” he snarls.
“When?” I growl. What the fuck is going on? Now they’re going after Rocco?
“Not even ten minutes ago. Meet us at Roc’s house. They have the fucker,” he snaps. Oh, it’s been a while since he’s been this fucking angry. Good. Maybe now we’ll get shit sorted.
“I’m on my way,” I say and end the call. I turn back to Teagan, and see that she’s still standing there, watching me without emotion. “We’re not finished,” I promise her. We’re far fucking from it. I’m going to get to the bottom of everything with her. I want to know how she knows Kelvin Acaster, and where the fuck those scars came from.
“Goodbye, Elio,” she says softly, and the way she says it, almost as if she’s actually saying goodbye... I shake my head. No, that’s not happening. If she leaves, I’ll find her, just like I did the last time. I’m not letting her go. No fucking way.
It takes me less than ten minutes to drive to Rocco’s house. The moment I walk in, I can feel the tension.
“Who died?” I ask the second I see Dario’s face. His jaw is clenched, his eyes hard, and he looks ready to kill.
“Rocco and Jade were leaving the gala. Emiliano was driving them,” he says through his teeth. “The moment Roc and Jade entered the car, bullets started to fly. With the amount of Irish and Italians that were in attendance, they were able to subdue the gunman. Rocco is dealing with him now. But Elio…” He shakes his head, and my gut tightens.
“Who?” Someone’s dead, and I want to know who.
“Emiliano,” he tells me, running a hand through his hair. “He was shot multiple times, but he didn’t say a fucking word, Elio. He drove Jade and Rocco home and didn’t mention it until he got them there.”
That’s Emiliano. His job was to protect us. He was my right hand, but he was also a man who would die for the Famiglia, and that’s exactly what he did.
“Where are they?” I ask in regard to my brother and his wife.
He starts to pace, and I have a feeling that he’s been doing it for a while. “They have been going at the cunt since we got back. I have no idea where they are. I was with Emiliano.”
Christ. I run a hand through my hair and grit my teeth. How fucking long are we going to have to wait for answers?
Thirty minutes later and my cell rings. “Where are you?” Rocco asks.
“Waiting for you,” I reply, my words hard. I fucking hate waiting for answers. “I’m at your house. What the fuck happened?”
“Good,” he says. “I’ll be there shortly. Don’t leave.”
