Chapter 23
Drowning
THE MAESTRO | Past
Murderer!” Selene shrieks, her voice cracking as she collapses over her Father’s body, her hands staining red as she tries to press down on the wet, gaping ruin of his chest. “You killed him! You killed him!”
I don’t move; I can’t, as a matter of fact. For one brutal second, my eyes stay glued to the dead man on the floor.
I hadn’t aimed for him. The wrong blood is pooling across the marble. But I don’t have the luxury of freezing.
The cathedral is collapsing into war around us. Smoke pours from the upper rafters, blinding everything in a grey haze, and the tactical thunder of my men’s automatic weapons ricochets off stained glass, pinning the remaining Cosa Nostra guards behind the heavy oak pews.
“Mr. Vitale!”
One of my men’s voice roars in my ear, drowning out the gunfire.
“We have the perimeter, but Vane’s men are pushing through the western transept! Get her out now!”
I don’t think.
I react on instinct.
Either it’s pure survival or something else—I can’t tell.
I step over the bleeding debris of the front row, my boots sliding through crimson, and reach for Selene.
She fights me instantly.
A storm of grief and terror.
Her nails rake across my jaw as she tries to anchor herself to her Father’s lifeless body.
“Let me go! You monster! Let me go!”
“We’re leaving,” I growl.
I don’t waste time trying to drag her.
I wrap one arm around her waist and hoist her clean off the floor, slamming her stomach against my shoulder.
She gasps, the air punched from her lungs, and pounds frantic fists into my back.
“Put me down! Mama! Mama is still inside!” she screams against my jacket, kicking wildly. “I hate you! I will always hate you!”
I ignore every word. Even when my chest tightens. Even when her hatred cuts deeper than any bullet ever could.
My grip on her thighs tightens, locking her trembling body against mine.
She feels too light. Too fragile.
Like something alive and terrified, trapped in my hands.
I turn my head toward my right-hand man near the shattered altar. “Burn it,” I say. “Burn every inch of this place to the ground. Leave nothing but ash.”
“Understood.”
I stride down the center aisle like ruin made flesh, carrying her through smoke and blood while my men form a wall of steel around us.
The cathedral doors are kicked open.
Cold, grey afternoon air rushes inside, slicing through incense and gunpowder.
The black sedan waits at the bottom of the stone steps, engine growling as a soldier tears the rear door open.
I shove her into the leather seat and climb in after her before she can scramble out the opposite side. The door slams shut.
The tires screech and we tear away from the burning church. Inside the car, no one speaks as Selene curls herself against the far door, breath hitching into hysterical sobs.
Her blue skirt is ruined, soaked through with her Father’s blood.
Her eyes meet mine. Wide.
Broken.
Terrified.
And filled with so much venom it should burn me alive. I look away.
I have to.
I can’t let her see the fracture opening inside my chest.
My hand shoots to my tie.
I yank it loose, hard enough to tear the knot apart.
“Fuck,” I mutter, breath uneven. My knuckles go white as I brace a hand against the seat and stare through the windshield. “Fuck.”
My phone buzzes against my thigh. I yank it out.
The screen lights up. Judas.
I swipe and slam the phone to my ear.
“Talk to me,” I hiss.
“How was the surprise?” Judas asks smoothly, without remorse.
A dark laugh catches in my throat as smoke from the cathedral fades in the rearview mirror.
“If your sniper had fired a little earlier,” I say, voice low and lethal, “this would’ve gone a whole lot fucking better.”
Judas goes silent for half a second. Then he laughs under his breath. “That bad?”
Before I can answer, a movement jerks in my peripheral vision. Selene launches herself at the door. Her palms slam against the tinted glass so hard the impact rattles through the cabin.
“No!” she screams, voice raw enough to tear straight through skin. “Stop the car! Let me out!”
She pounds against it again. And again. The heel of her hand strikes the metal frame. Then her fists.
“Selene—”
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieks. Her knuckles crack against the reinforced glass until her skin splits and bright blood streaks over the black door.
My entire focus narrows to her.
The way she’s shaking.
The blood on her hands.
The way she keeps hitting the damn door like she can break through steel and outrun grief.
I hang up without another word and throw the phone aside.
“Open this!” she screams, hitting it again. “Open it! My Mother is still there! My Father—”
Her fist slams down. Blood spatters across the leather.
I grab her wrists as she cries out and thrashes violently, nails digging into my forearms, knees driving toward my ribs.
I catch both wrists in one hand and yank her toward me.
“Stop.”
“Get off me!” she spits.
My tie is still hanging loose around my neck. I rip it free.
Her eyes widen with fury when she sees it.
“Don’t you dare—”
I pin both wrists together and wrap the silk around them in one sharp knot. She jerks, trying to wrench free.
“Bastard!”
I drag her fully against me before she can throw herself back at the door. Her tied hands are trapped against my chest. My arm locks around her waist. She thrashes so hard that the entire seat shakes.
“Let me go!”
“No.”
“You killed him!”
The words hit harder than bullets.
“You murdered him and burned everything and took me and I hate you!”
“I hate you, Zagreus. I hate your face. I hate your hands. I hope they put you in the ground and leave you there to rot—”
“Enough.”
“No!” she screams right in my face. “You don’t get to tell me enough! You don’t get to touch me after what you did!”
Her body trembles in my arms. Hot tears spill down her cheeks. Her breathing turns ragged. Like she can’t get enough air. And she keeps fighting. Still trying to claw through me. Still trying to get back to the flames.
My temper turns black. I cup her jaw; her chin jerks upward as she spits another curse.
And I kiss her, hard enough to silence her. She freezes. For one heartbeat, her lips are warm and trembling and stained with salt.
I taste fury.
Tears.
The sharp edge of blood from where she bit the inside of her mouth.
My grip tightens at her waist. She jerks against me.
Makes a furious sound into my mouth.
But I don’t let her go.
I kiss her like I’m trying to drag her back into her body.
Like I’m trying to force the hysteria out of her lungs and pull breath back into them.
Like anger, fear, and guilt are tearing me apart from the inside, and she’s the only thing keeping me upright.
I finally pull back, both of us breathing hard, her lips swollen and eyes blazing.
“Touch me again,” she whispers, shaking, “and I swear to God I’ll slit your throat.”
My chest rises hard, but I keep her pinned against me, anyway.
My forehead brushes hers. “Then do it when we are married.”