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She claws, her nails leaving burning paths on my neck and cheek.
“Let me help him!”
Grabbing her wrists in one hand, I pin them behind her back while holding her in place with my free hand wrapped around her nape. We’re standing face to face, pressed up against each other, our expressions naked and exposed. Hers is panicked, terrified, bewildered, crazed… I can heap on a mountain of descriptions. Between good and bad or love and hate, they’ll all be on the darkest end of the spectrum.
Me? All I have left is cold anger. My senses are still sharp from the kill. If I could feel, I’d experience everything with more intensity. Now, I only see what lies behind and in front of me clearer.
“No. Please.” Her eyes are dry. Demented and feverish. She’s looking but not seeing. “You have to let me—”
Her mind is blocking out the reality, protecting her psyche from a truth that will wreck her. There was no choice. My family had to destroy hers like hers destroyed mine.
An eye for an eye.
Sabella and her father for my mother and sister. I hate how her father made that decision for us.
Her gaze darts to the floor, to the blood seeping into the rug. “I have to call an ambulance.”
I turn our bodies, blocking the view with mine. “Stop it, Sabella.” My words are violent, but my hold is gentle. Willing the meaning to sink in, I say, “He’s dead.”
It does. The truth registers.
Her expression twists into a mask of agony. “Not true.”
“Yes.” I don’t shrink from holding her gaze, from letting her see who I am. “It had to be done.”
“You did this to him,” she says between a sob and a gasp. “You shot him.”
“No.” My voice is flat. “I wish I had. That justice was reserved for my father.”
“You did this.” She twists in my hold, turning feral again. “You did this to him!”
“It was justice for my mother and sister,” I bite out.
She’s not listening, not even when I tighten my grip so much it must hurt. She’s shaking from head to toe, screaming herself hoarse.
Letting go of her nape, I slam a hand over her mouth. There’s still no risk of anyone hearing her. I just can’t stand the sound of her grief.
Her eyes grow round. She sags a little, either from the crush after the adrenaline high or because she believes her turn is next.
I want to take her with me. I should.
I don’t.
I had a funeral. It didn’t change shit, but it did bring a warped sense of finality. Closure, I suppose. She deserves the same. She deserves to be there for her family like I’d been there for mine.
It’s only fair.
What do I do with her in the meantime? Where do I take her? I can’t get into her house. I could take her to our hotel, but my father won’t understand. He’ll need time. The idea has to grow on him. It’s not ideal, not at all, but I have to leave her here.
The fight has left her. All that remains are sobs and fear. The sobs are racking her shoulders. The fear makes her tremble. She heard what my father said.
“Shh,cara. I’m not going to kill you.” I lower my lips to her ear. “I should, but I won’t.”
She shakes harder but cries more quietly.
I continue in a hushed tone. “Just remember, I spared your life.” Pressing a kiss on her temple, I tell her how it works. “Now, I own it.”
Straining in my hold, she tries to lean away. I lift my hand from her mouth. She gasps, sucking in air. When I caress her nape with my gloved fingers, she shakes her head.
