Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Ezekiel. I don’t know the verse,” I say.
“25:17”
“Pulp Fiction?”
“The Bible.”
With a grin, I climb out of bed. Her eyes follow me as I move to the bathroom. I don’t close the door but switch on the shower. I strip off my briefs and brush my teeth, then step under the flow. I give her time to leave my room and go to my brother. I left the door unlocked. But when I’m done, I’m surprised to find her sitting exactly where I left her.
Drying off, I walk into the closet to pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
“Where is Amadeo?” she asks when I’m back in the bedroom.
“He’s around. How do you feel?”
“Like I was run over by a truck.”
“Sounds about right.” I walk into the bathroom and return with two pills and a glass of water. “Here.”
“What are they?”
“Aspirin. Unless you want something stronger.”
She takes the pills and swallows them with some water, then drains the whole glass. “What did you give me last night?”
“Just a sedative to relax you.”
“It knocked me out.”
“We needed to pick the glass out, and you were pretty out of it.”
She drops her gaze, then pushes a hand into her hair.
“Hey. You’re all right, Dandelion.”
She snorts, then looks up at me. “Why did you help me?”
“What kind of question is that?”
She shrugs a shoulder.
“You mean why didn’t we let them rape you?” The word triggers a visceral response from her. “What do you think we are? Dogs?”
“He said you ordered it. You and your brother. Was I supposed to learn a lesson?”
My hands fist at my sides. “Who said that?”
“I don’t know his name. The one who brought me down.”
“Well, he fucking lied.” I hear the anger in my voice. The silence that follows is broken by Amadeo when he walks in. We both turn to look at him. He’s freshly showered but looks like shit. Like he didn’t sleep all night.
“Morning.” His forehead is furrowed as he takes her in. “How do you feel?”
She doesn’t bother to answer him but glares instead. “If last night is any indication of how your protection works, I want out. I want Emma out. Now.”
His jaw tightens. “It won’t happen again.”
“And I should just believe you?”
“They’ll be punished. This morning.”
“I want out!”
“That can’t happen, and you know it.”
She shakes her head, the whites of her eyes growing pink as they fill with tears she is quick to wipe away.
“Do we need to call a doctor in, Vittoria?” I ask, changing the subject.
“What?”
I glance at Amadeo, then turn back to her. “Did they… hurt you? Touch you?”
She stares up at me, all wide eyes and innocence. And fuck. I don’t want to feel anything for her but hate. I try to tell myself it’s pity, but I know better. Something inside me wants to protect her. A thing that feels she’s mine to protect.
I stand by what I said to Amadeo last night. She is strong—a survivor—and something dark made her that. I know it in my gut. And I’m guessing that missing year Amadeo mentioned is it.
When she’s quiet longer than I like, I feel my muscles tighten. Feel a rage build inside me.
“Did they touch you?” I say through my teeth.
She shakes her head and hugs her knees, pressing her eyes into them I assume to stop the inevitable tears.
“Are you sure?” Amadeo asks, clearly confused by how she answered. “You understand it’s not your fault—”
“I’m not fucking stupid,” she snaps furiously. “I know it’s not my fault. But they didn’t rape me. They didn’t get the chance, so I guess I have you both to thank for that. Oh wait, you put me in a situation where they could get to me in the first place, so maybe not.”
I know she’s scared. What happened has terrified her more than she’ll ever admit to us or maybe even to herself. And she’s right—we don’t deserve her gratitude.
She looks back and forth between us. “Where are they?”
“You don’t have to worry about them. We’ll take care of them.”
“They’re your soldiers.”
“That’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“Our uncle has men who are still loyal to him,” I tell her.
She studies me, then Amadeo but doesn’t ask any questions.
“They won’t hurt you again. You don’t have to worry about them,” Amadeo says.
“How can you be sure?” she asks us.
“I’m sure because they will be executed this morning,” I answer her.
For a moment, she seems surprised by this. Or perhaps it’s the violence of what is to come. I don’t know. This is our world. I need to remember it’s not hers. Even if it was her father’s and her brother’s, she has been shielded from it.
She searches my eyes, a line forming between her eyebrows.
“For fuck’s sake, please tell me it’s not pity you feel for them,” I say.
“Oh no, it’s not pity,” she says, looking determined. Any vulnerability is gone, and a strange, almost unhinged sheen comes over her eyes. “I want to be there.”