THIRTY-SIX #2
‘The temper? The violence?’ A sound bubbled low and wet in his throat – between a chuckle and a snort. ‘She will. Eventually, they all do.’
I took a step closer, chest brushing his parka. ‘Leave her out of this,’ I said with a tremor I couldn’t hide.
‘Why?’ he asked, still with that fucking grin on his face.
‘She’s just another Cecilia.’ My mother’s name felt like a dagger punching through my chest. I rubbed the spot instinctively, suddenly reminded of the wounds already there from the fighting ring.
‘You always needed a woman to fix you. But, just like your mother who abandoned you, when she realises she can’t—’ He snapped his fingers. ‘—you’ll break her too.’
The dog barked frantically somewhere down the hall.
I forced air through my lungs. ‘We’re done here.’
Ezio leaned in, breath hot and decaying. ‘Not so quick, boy.’ He squared off with me. It didn’t matter I was a foot taller than him. It didn’t matter I could crush him in my palm. He puffed up.
And I felt small again, the image of his fist flying towards my face flashing behind my eyes. It took every ounce of my strength not to wince, not to fold in on myself.
‘You think you’re clean in all this?’ he whispered. ‘You didn’t think I’d remember you putting me in that coma? Your father.’
‘You’re not my father,’ I gritted out, feeling the tension drawing my spine taut.
He laughed quietly, bitter and full of phlegm.
‘What the fuck do you want?’ I spat at him. ‘Money?’
‘You were the abuser, Cain. Imagine how that’ll sound to the police: a son who turned on his parent.’
My throat went dry.
My vision pulsed at the edges, red bleeding into the dark. Every instinct in me screamed to silence him – to end it.
But my legs wouldn’t move. My arms stayed glued to my body.
‘I can’t wait to hear what your woman will say when she sees you behind bars,’ he said slowly, the words dragging through those clenched teeth.
I opened my mouth, a growl climbing up my throat.
I hadn’t even heard the metallic click until the barrel appeared in my vision, pressing against Ezio’s temple.
He froze.
So did I.
For half a second, I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating.
My eyes snapped to the slender arm holding the gun steady – and then down to the dark angel at the other end of it.
My woman.
Small, furious… exhausted.
Every part of her radiated the kind of rage no one taught – the kind you earned surviving men like him.
‘You won’t,’ she murmured with a delicious sort of venom in her voice. ‘Because you won’t be around long enough for that to happen.’
Ezio’s grin returned.
He wasn’t really scared. Not in the way he should’ve been.
But I was too far gone to care. Because my ruined, fucking wreck of a heart split clean down the middle at the sight of her standing there, willing to do what no one ever had.
This woman – this lioness – had drawn a line in the sand with a bullet in a chamber.
And it rewrote me.
‘What’s the sentence for threatening with a gun in this country?’ Ezio pushed, smugness returning in full force.
Another click rang out. Then another.
My vision fuzzed at the edges, colour leaching from the world as I blinked and looked up – Matteo and Gianna had drawn too. Smooth and silent, they stood motionless at the door as if it were a nice Sunday fucking stroll.
Alessio sauntered in with lazy indifference, as if this had all been a part of some family ritual.
The rat-dog – when the fuck had it come back? – yapped like mad at Ezio’s feet, tiny chest puffed with righteous fury.
Alessio bent, scooped it up, and scratched behind its ears. ‘Depends how annoying the judge is,’ he said casually. ‘Usually a stretch in the nick.’
He sank into the sofa, the dog growling quietly in his lap as if even it could sense the bastard in the room. It didn’t help that it looked insane against Alessio’s bare chest with skin like a map of old scars and ink.
‘Judge Farina?’ he mused aloud, adjusting his chest holster, pulling out one pistol after another and placing them on the goddamn glass coffee table.
‘She’s a pain in the arse. Likes to drag things out.
Keep you on your toes. Mean little thing—’ His gaze cut back to Ezio, hazel eyes sharp behind the smile, ‘—makes a killer cannelloni, though.’
The dog snarled.
I couldn’t close my mouth. My heart thundered behind my ears.
‘Giordano’s lazy,’ Alessio continued in a silky voice. ‘He’ll lock you up just to avoid missing his afternoon coffee. Mean right hook – we train together every Monday.’
His grin was full and warm. But it never reached his eyes.
‘In Italia,’ Gianna contributed, ‘it’s very rude to threaten someone in another person’s house, stronzo.’ Her gun was unwavering.
Ezio shifted, but not enough to pretend strength. He could feel the numbers, the aim, the rage.
‘Anyway,’ Alessio reclined against the marshmallow couch. ‘That’s all hypothetical.’ He stretched his arms over the backrest, unblinkingly staring through Ezio. ‘Given that there are no guns in this house. So no one could really threaten anyone. Right, kids?’
‘Yes, daddy.’ Gianna raised her chin.
‘Amore, can you go help your mother look for the shotgun. She always misplaces it.’
‘She always finds it, too.’ That from Gianna. She stayed put.
Ezio stiffened. Matteo grinned slightly, but it died soon.
I stared at Paula’s side, the way her jaw flexed, the way her body angled between me and him like a fucking shield.
‘Leave,’ she hissed, each syllable a blade poised at his neck. And the tone suddenly switched to a much darker note. ‘If I see you near him, I’ll put a bullet in your head.’
Ezio tried to pivot towards her, still wearing that worn-out smirk.
My knees shuddered when her voice dropped an octave. A calm that only came from hell.
‘Don’t push me. I’ve had a very… bad… week,’ she said, and I could hear the tremor beneath it – but she held. ‘If anything happens to Cain, I’ll find you.’
‘She’ll have company, too,’ Matteo added darkly, stepping in closer.
I couldn’t breathe.
Too much – all at once – was trying to rip through my chest: fury, disbelief, grief, fucking lust. This woman… she’d layered it all under the rising weight of something I’d never felt: safety.
Home.
Not because I couldn’t fight.
But because for the first time, I didn’t have to.
Ezio’s gaze slid across the room, weighing the heat pointed at his skull.
He didn’t apologise – he never did. Just buttoned his parka and adjusted the sleeves as if he’d been inconvenienced by a dinner party gone cold.
Turning slowly, he headed for the door with that same unnatural calm.
Just before he stepped over the threshold, he paused. Looked back at me.
And in a voice that left frost trailing behind, he said, ‘Good luck finding Cecilia without me.’
As though he’d wrenched Mum’s ghost out of an unmarked grave.
Then he stepped out.
I nearly lunged after him, fury spitting sparks down my arms – but Paula’s fingers slipped into my hand, mooring me back to breath’s rhythm.
No words. Just soft pressure.
Just home.