3. 3 – Dante
3 – Dante
M y eyes are burning.
Leaking , with anger and pain and sheer fucking agony.
She’s here and safe in my arms, the truth finally out between us.
No more lies.
And the truth, the horrors that she has shared with me, they swipe the oxygen from my lungs, threatens to drag darkness over my eyes as I pull her to me and bury my face in her neck.
They, they — what they have done to her—
I loosen a shuddering, pained breath. And Cat – she sinks her fingers into my hair, grips it. Holds me to her, anchoring me in place as if she is the one doing the comforting when I should be doing that for her.
How much can a person be expected to endure without breaking?
How much fucking more will she be forced to endure before this is over?
I hold her even more tightly at the thought of that, as I murmur my own truth against her skin.
I am hers.
Caterina Corvo owns me. Has always owned me, body and soul and heart, even if she’s now sharing it with a little girl that’s a perfect mix of her and I.
And I cannot think of the truth she just brushed away. Of what happened to her behind those walls, in that horror of a fucking compound.
If I think of it, then I will burn. Turn to fire and ashes and there will be nothing left of any of us, if I go on a rampage to try to clear this pain from my body.
Too long. We took too long.
She chose to go back in when she could have run, and there was a price to pay.
A price that she does not wish to speak of. So I let it slide, that one hideous truth, and instead of forcing her to face it I whisper against her skin the words that I’ve been holding in since she ran toward me amongst a hail of bullets.
Words that I’ve held close for months, waiting for my tentazione to come home.
“ Ti amo , Cat. No matter what.”
I’m not expecting a response. I’ve never received one, never thought I needed it.
In this moment, though, I realize that I do need it. Desperately.
And I’m not expecting what slips from her mouth as she lets me hold her, her fingers gripping me tightly in a way she never has before – in a way that I’m not sure she’s even aware of.
I have told her I love her more than once. Never expecting to hear it back.
But her quiet, fervent whisper closes my throat entirely. “ Ti amo , Dante V’Arezzo. I should have said it a long time ago.”
I inhale raggedly. “Say it again. Please.”
Her lips brush my cheek, kiss away the wetness there. “ Ti amo. Voglio passare il resto della mia vita con te , Dante.”
“ Resta con me per sempre ,” I breathe. “Don’t leave me again, Cat.”
I cannot be separated from her again. Never again. I would not survive it.
And it’s not fair to ask her; not when we cannot control it, but I do anyway. “Promise me. Please.”
She has made promises before, but never to me. This is the promise I ask of her.
Don’t leave me. Stay with me.
And her tears mingle with mine as we grip each other in the back of that car.
“ Sì . I swear it.”