Chapter 49 #2
"NO! Damien, look at me. You will not kneel before her. Trust that I can endure whatever she does the way I trust you can stand to watch." I try to smile.
"I can't," he says weakly.
"Yes, you can, baby. For me."
Marzena moves in front of me and, bending down, grabs my chin between her fingers.
"I see you have the same sorcery as your slut of a mother, who simply drove men crazy with her presence."
I still have heels on, and since there's not much I can do from this position with blood continuously pouring from my wound, I lift my foot and drive the heel as hard as I can into her shoe.
I see the moment the pain registers, and her gaze electrocutes me.
"All the fingers then," she hisses through her teeth.
"HOW DID YOU KNOW MY MOTHER?"
She turns with pliers in hand and signals the soldier to come closer.
Don't look at the tool in her hand. You'll survive this, Roxy.
If not for yourself, then for the man in front of you, whose eyes fill with tears as he struggles against that chair.
"She came that night looking for your father, but I made sure they never met. Actually, I promised to pass along her message if I saw him."
She smiles, dark lipstick on her lips, and my stomach turns.
"And I kept my word. Sort of. Because I passed along the message, just not to him."
It takes me a few moments to understand, and then fury in its purest form floods my veins.
"You know who The Bloody Dahlia is! You told him my mother wanted to leave!"
Her smile spreads across her entire face, but my mind can only conceive the desire to make her suffer. Because of her, my mother died. Because of her, I was left with Dad and Ivette. Because of her, that man continued killing innocent people.
"How could you do that?" I scream.
"Because she needed to learn a lesson! Let me tell you a story.
Twenty-eight years ago, I visited a cousin who'd moved to Naples.
Left my husband and kids in Warsaw for a few days because this cousin ran in particular circles and I knew there was information to be obtained.
The first party I attended was where I saw him.
Your father." She pauses. "Tall, dark-haired, broad shoulders, eyes like ink dropped in water—the moment I saw him, I knew I wanted that man. Until then, I don’t think my heart understood the concept of feelings.
But when I approached, his eyes were fixed on her.
On Elena. No matter how I intervened, how I tried to make him realize your mother was a weakness in our world, he didn't get it.
The only blessing was his wedding because then Elena disappeared from the scene.
But she didn't disappear alone, did she?
She had you in her belly, an eternal connection to him.
Six years later, I came to America specifically for him, heard he'd be at this party, but at the last minute one of his associates stole some money, and he had to handle it.
I figured since I was already at the party, I'd gather some information even though Damien was with me.
He was a beautiful boy, tall for his age, and if someone had good information but wanted something different, I had him as currency. "
The second she finishes that sentence, I can't hold back. My body convulses and I vomit on the cement beside my chair. How can she be so heartless? What kind of monster sells their children like that?
"Ugh, a saint, just like your mother. This is the world we live in, Roxanne. Everything has a price; you just have to be willing to pay it."
"ROXY. The only one who calls me Roxanne is my husband," I spit through gritted teeth, trying to wipe my mouth on my shoulder, but pain from the other side stops me.
"Anyway, to finish the story, I told your mother I'd pass the information to Marco then made a call to The Bloody Dahlia, as you call him. What a name he chose for himself." She laughs.
But my mind freezes on the name she just spoke. Marco.
I look at Damien, whose gaze is gentle, full of compassion, and I realize he knows.
He's known for so long that Marco Agosti was my father and never told me.
And now all those moments with Marco come flooding back, when I felt him looking at me strangely, when I thought he looked at me with adoration and fascination. Now I understand why.
His conversation with Dad outside the office building.
Because he knew too.
The shadow of betrayal gets pushed aside when Marzena's soldier grabs my hand and extends it for her, and she uses the pliers to rip out a nail.
I bite my tongue, forcing the scream back down, until my mouth fills with blood.
Before I can shake off the pain ringing in my ears, a second nail gets ripped out, and I know I'm squeezing my eyes so tightly my eyeball might relocate to my brain.
I can hear Damien in the background, but the pain numbs my senses to a minimum, and all I repeat is that I won't scream. I won't give her that satisfaction, especially after what she confessed.
The warehouse door bursts open suddenly, letting in natural light, and my eyes distinguish the silhouette of a tall man.
I can't feel my hand where she ripped out the nails, and I think my shoulder lost too much blood, because everything's foggy and nauseous.
The man raises his hand—I think he has a gun—so I direct my eyes to Damien, who sits completely still, looking at me with so much emotion.
I wish I could hear his heartbeat. I wish he'd take me in his arms. I wish I could kiss him. And realizing I might never get the chance breaks me, and only then do I let a sigh escape through my cracked lips.
A gunshot rings out, and the soldier drops to his knees before collapsing to the ground.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" I hear Marzena scream.
Without an answer, another gunshot echoes and Marzena's scream cuts off as she collapses, though I can't see where she was hit.
"Hurry up and untie these ropes," Damien shouts.
My head becomes heavy and every particle of my body pulses with pain.
When the man unties Damien's ropes, his body is instantly beside mine.
"It's over, s?onko," he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Who the hell is he?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
With a single glance at the man who's easily six foot four, Damien answers.
"Roxanne, meet Cas. Our nephew."