11. 11 – Domenico
11 – Domenico
I flex my hands again. Glance down at the array of scars that cover my knuckles in layers of broken, battered skin. Some are older. And some… some are more recent.
One deep red gouge opens up as the skin stretches, a bead of blood trailing down my hand. It looks almost black in the cool darkness of the room, the curtains pulled shut to block out the warmth of the sun.
As I’m trying to block out… everything.
The knock on the door has my head jerking up. Ignoring it, I wait for them to leave. But it only comes again.
Again. Louder this time.
Her voice rings out. “I’m not going anywhere, Domenico Rossi. Answer the fucking door.”
I purse my lips. Wait her out. The door is locked.
My brows dip down at the scraping sound. Then the bang. Several of them, one after the other.
And my door… opens. Splinters of wood rain down against the floor.
Cat stalks inside, meeting my glare with one of her own. “Why are you on the floor?”
My jaw clenches as I take in the knife she twirls between her fingers. “Heard of privacy?”
“You never want privacy.” Her eyes travel over me. Over my bare, battered skin, the towel around my waist as I sit on the floor against the wall. “Not from me.”
I stiffen as she pauses in front of me. “Cat – just leave me alone.”
She doesn’t leave. She drops to her knees instead, her eyes running over my body, and I inhale sharply as her fingers reach out and brush against one of the bruises on my neck. She doesn’t say anything, only tracing the shape before she moves on to the next.
The next.
And the next, her lips moving although I can’t hear the words.
I stay silent, watching her.
“Thirty-seven,” she whispers finally. “What did he do to you?”
“This wasn’t him.” She turns her face to mine scanning my expression. “I got these from the ring.”
Cat only shakes her head, lips thinning. “Maybe, but it was him. He made you fight.”
“And I made him a lot of money.” My tone is caustic. “His favorite lapdog. I never lost a fight.”
Buzzing in my veins.
Blood, spilling across the floor.
When she reaches for me again, my hand snaps out to grip her wrist, and I snarl. “ Don’t .”
“You think I’m scared of you, Domenico?” She glares right back at me, her hair falling around her face.
“I don’t know how many people I killed.”
Cat pauses.
“I don’t know .” I look down again, rub the bead of blood into my skin. “A lot. Dozens, maybe. Anyone he wanted to get rid of. The young, the old – most of them I can’t even fucking remember . He put them in with me, and I finished them, Cat. There’s so much fucking blood on my hands that they will never be clean. Don’t touch me .”
She pulls her hand away, but only to take me in properly. The redness of my skin. “How many showers have you had?”
I lift my eyes to hers, my voice hoarse. “Not enough.”
Not nearly enough. I feel coated in shame, oily and covered in the filth of the last few months.
Her hand rises to my cheek, and this time, she ignores my attempts to pull away. She grips my face between her hands, her forehead pressing against mine. “Listen to me.”
“ Please —,”
“ No ,” she breathes. “You damn well listen to me, Domenico Rossi. You are not Matteo’s creature. He does not own you. You are mine, you understand? You are mine, and I am yours. And we are endgame , you and I. You told me that once, and I have held onto it, Dom. I held onto it every fucking day that we were apart, and I will not let him keep us apart for another fucking day. They do not get to stay inside our heads and ruin us.”
Her grip tightens. “Whatever you did because of him – own it. He used you as a weapon, Dom, and you didn’t have a choice, but now you do. Recognise it. You feel guilty? Ashamed? Join the club because there is plenty of fucking room. But you do not get to block me out, and let him in.”
Both of us are breathing heavily. I don’t close my eyes, don’t look away from her, our noses brushing against each other. “It’s still there. That anger. It wants out, Cat, and I don’t want to be anywhere near you – near any of you - when it happens.”
And she shakes me. “You are the one person who has always had faith in me, Dom. Don’t lose it now. I am strong enough to help you fight your battles, and you are strong enough to help me fight mine.”
I take a ragged breath. Another. “Together.”
“Always,” she breathes. “Besides. You owe me a trip to the beach and a dance at sunset. I haven’t forgotten.”
I lift my hand, brushing it against her cheek. “You weren’t awake for that conversation.”
“I have my sources.” She stands, holding out her hand. “Get up, Domenico. Consider it an order if you need to. If I’m still your capo.”
Always.
When I’m up, she directs me to the bed. “You look worse than I do. Get some sleep.”
I resist. “Not without you.”
Something about her presence… it chases those shadows away. Still there but lingering at a distance instead of smothering me with darkness.
We lay facing each other. I examine her face as though it’s the first time, and she does the same to me.
Both of us, changed beyond recognition. And yet… not, at the same time.
We’re still here. Still Caterina Corvo, and Domenico Rossi.
“You are my endgame,” I murmur. “Always, Cat.”