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She mouths, and everything clicks as I drop to my knees and stare around the room, my gaze landing on familiar objects. The lion statue I used to hide behind in the corner. The stone fireplace we would sit in front of and Papa would tell me fantastical stories that could never possibly be true, but I believed him anyways.
The hidden cubby door next to the bookshelf where I watched this entire scenario unfold that day long ago. I forgot the atrocities I witnessed and the coppery smell of blood. The sound of my terrified screams when the next bullet hits my papa in the head, sending him crashing back into the white sofa.
I buried the sounds of my whimpering when the blood began to seep under the cubby door because there was so much of it.
I blocked it.
And now, I wish I never remembered at all.
The hate for the man with the evil eyes. The man who made me believe he loved me.
The man who slaughtered my family and sold me ten years later.
Chapter 8
Domino
The doctor came and went, pronouncing that Nicola would be fine soon. With a bruised rib, a few cuts, and other bruises, she’ll be back to her normal self in no time, he said.
I should believe him.
I meant to.
But the blood-curdling scream that raced through the house just a few hours after he left still has me wondering what the hell happened in her dreams.
For as tough as Nicola is, she is very slight in size, and her discomfort was agonizing to watch. When asked if she wanted a shot of something to help ease her pain and allow her to sleep, she agreed.
Because of that, I’m unable to wake her. No matter how hard I try. Capo whines at her feet on the bed while I talk soothingly to her as I brush my fingers through her hair.
With the sun diffusing through her window, I open the curtains and lift the window, hoping the warmth and breeze will penetrate whatever horror she’s living through right now.
A knock on the door has me turning to see Donato entering my room with a phone in his hand. “It’s Papa.” He hands it to me and leaves after a glance at Nicola. Her face is scrunched up, and she’s whimpering on the bed as she sleeps.
“What is happening with my girl?” he asks before I can even greet him.
“Hello to you too, Papa.” He huffs his annoyance. “You never told me she throws a wild punch,” I scold.
His bark of laughter is far from amused. “She get you with it?”
“Once,” I admit.
“Santi has been keeping me up to date on what’s happening. Is she safe?” Staring at the woman in my bed, I don’t know how to tell him that physically, yes, but mentally, maybe not so much.
“Yeah, she is,” I finally state.
“Good. What’s being done about the chief and Salvatore.” The pure disgust in his tone is how I feel to a T.
“I’m going to destroy them both.” And I won’t stop until they’re either behind bars or buried six feet in the ground.
“Your mother and I will be there at the end of the week. Do what you have to do.” The phone clicks as he hangs up, and I turn to see my woman staring at me. Her eyes glossy, tear stains on her cheeks, and sweat dotting her head.
Quickly returning to her side, I ease down gently on the bed next to her. Grasping the water bottle I brought up with me earlier, I twist the cap off and help her with little sips.
“How do you feel?” I realize how foolish the question is, but I’ll keep on asking until she tells me not to.
“Like I’ve been run over.” Her dry throat makes her voice raspy.
I nod, understanding. “Bruised ribs. Nothing serious. You were having nightmares.”
