Chapter Twenty-nine
As I slowly drift back to consciousness, the world around me feels hazy and surreal. I blink a few times, trying to clear the fog from my mind, and find myself surrounded by bright, swirling colors that dance and twirl in the air. It’s mesmerizing, and I can’t help but giggle softly at the sight.
“My sweet bunny.”
That voice… I know it… I think. Yes. It’s deep red. Wait, how can a voice have a color? Frowning, I try to put the two together, but I can’t. I know it doesn’t fit, but that’s what it is.
“What are you mumbling about?” he asks. “Don’t you know who I am, baby?”
Of course I know who he is. He’s red. The… why am I thinking about blood? Blood and something good, something safe. Is red safe? No, red means danger. Yet I don’t feel scared, I feel very much at peace.
I scrunch up my nose, hating how impersonal and sterile it smells around me. The burn annoys my nostrils, and I feel like I’m going to sneeze. But I can’t do that. The colors will disappear if I do, and I feel like I need them.
“Lucia, baby, try to focus.”
What’s he talking about? I am focusing… oh, look at the blue, it’s totally mixing with the orange. Since I don’t want to see that, I try to lift my hand to swat it away. But my body isn’t obeying my command. I’m being betrayed by… myself.
“Fuck’s sake. I’m going to call someone.”
Yes. Call someone to tell them blue and orange should never mix.
There’s a swooshing sound, and then a woman speaks. “How can I help?”
Is she the color police? Oh no, now the green is out of control. Why are all the colors acting up like this? And why do I care?
“Oh dear,” the woman says. “Maybe her dose is too high.”
I notice a pressure on my hand, and when I look down, it quickly becomes clear why. The man, the red one, is holding it—squeezing it.
“You can call me anything you want, baby. Just please tell me you remember me,” he says.
Looking up at his handsome face, I’m filled with a sense of relief. He’s so pretty, and his beard looks fun to play with. I wonder if he’d let me twirl it around my fingers.
“There’s not a thing I wouldn’t let you do to me, sweet bunny.”
Huh, how can he read my thoughts?
“You’re speaking out loud, Lucia,” the woman giggles.
Moving closer, she bends over the man, her tits grazing his arm. I hiss and bare my teeth at her. She’s gray and orange. Two colors I don’t like or trust right now.
“Sorry,” she rushes out as she readjusts her position. “I was just trying to reach your drip. I promise that’s all.”
I huff and try to give her a benevolent look but I don’t think I succeed. I like that she corrected herself, so for now, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Especially since her gray is tinged with green, and I like green. It’s so pretty, and it’s… wait, what was I just thinking about?
The longer I lie there, the colors seem to become duller. Some of them are impossible to tell apart, and the more I blink, the fainter they become. A lump forms in my throat and I want to cry as I’m slowly losing all the pretty colors.
“Don’t cry, baby. It’s all going to be okay.”
I look over at… “Sy?” I murmur, my voice sounding distant and dreamlike.
He’s there, sitting beside me, his hand gently clasping mine, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and relief. “Hey, bunny,” he says softly, his voice cutting through the fog in my mind.
I manage a weak smile, my thoughts still scattered and disjointed. “What... happened?” I ask, my words slurring together as if underwater.
Sawyer’s expression darkens slightly, and he takes a deep breath before speaking. “Fabian happened,” he explains, his voice heavy with sadness and anger. “He tried to stab me, but you jumped in front of me.” Instead of sounding grateful, he sounds angry.
“A simple thank you will suffice,” I smart, trying to lighten his mood.
He squeezes my hand harder. “You’re lucky you’re in a hospital bed right now, or I’d make you pay. You’re not meant to risk your life for me, baby. Never that.”
“But I—”
Shaking his head, he talks over me. “What do you think would happen to me if you died?”
Blinking, I remember the flight to Rome, and the drive to the Vatican that followed. “I-I gave you what you needed to get out,” I croak. My throat feels raw, and it hurts to speak. “Can I have some water?”
Sy’s quick to reach for a bottle, even uncapping it before handing it to me. Once again, I try to lift my arm, but every movement is slow. He chuckles before placing his arm under my head, gently pushing me upward. Then he places the bottle between my lips, slowly pouring water directly into my mouth.
“Thank you,” I whisper once I’ve had enough.
When he goes to remove his arm I complain, and he pushes the remote so the headrest moves me into a half-seated position. Much better.
“It’s not about my safety,” Sy says firmly, picking the conversation back up. “I already told you I didn’t want to live without you. We’re a team, baby. You don’t just get to pick and choose when that suits.”
“And you don’t get to tell me off for saving your life,” I wheeze. The words don’t come out as firm or bad ass as I wanted them to. Not when I’m constantly feeling like I don’t have enough air in my lungs.
“Shh, don’t worry about any of that now.” Sy strokes my cheek gently. “Just focus on getting better, bunny.”
Looking up at him, I try to recall what happened. Like, the events themselves. But it’s… all a blur. “Where’s Fabian?” I ask, suddenly feeling panicked.
“He’s… not here,” Sy assures me. “He’s gone and he can never hurt you again, baby.”
I try to nod, but drowsiness settles in. “Why are we in the hospital?” I ask, even though I feel like he’s already told me, or like I should have figured it out myself.
“You had surgery.” Sy’s tone is clipped, but when I look at him I know it’s not from anger at me. “You had a collapsed lung and a few other things. But it’s all fixed now, and they said you’ll recover completely. You just need to rest. Nothing else matters.”
The words sink in slowly, like pebbles dropped into a pond, sending ripples of confusion and fear through my mind. But just as my eyes are about to close, I remember something else. Sy was going to leave me. He wouldn’t even look at me, that’s how angry he was.
“You were going to leave me,” I accuse, or try to. “… wouldn’t even look… and you…”
“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk more when you feel better.”
The first three days after I was attacked, they wanted to keep me for observation. Something to do with the chest tube, residual air, pleural something, and whatnot. Honestly, I gave up listening. All I heard was that I needed to stay, and Sy was completely useless, refusing to support me in getting out of there.
I don’t remember much from the time I woke up, high on the morphine after the surgery. But ever the dick, my husband made sure to record some of the shit I said. Though I bitch about that, I secretly like it. I love Sy more than I thought I could ever love someone, and having him do little things like that makes my day. I like the more playful side of him, and I’m so excited to see what our lives will be like now that there isn’t a deadline ruining our lives.
“Have you had enough air?” Sy asks, kissing the top of my head.
We’re in one of the lavish gardens outside Remus’ home. We’ve been out here for hours because I want to soak it all in one last time. “Not yet,” I murmur, loving the way the sun kisses my face and the wind plays with my hair. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Sy shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But it’s like a museum where you can’t touch anything.”
“You want to touch the naked statues?” I giggle playfully, poking him in the side. He huffs in reply. “You can touch them if you want to. There’s actually one just a bit further ahead that has a crack in its leg because Remus threw something at it when he was a kid.”
This is the first time I’ve ever told anyone that. Back when it happened, I was terrified someone would find out. I was supposed to be watching over him, and took my eyes off him for just a few minutes. Guess that’s all it takes to break a piece of history.
“I have to ask, what’s with all the wolves?” Sy asks, scrunching up his nose.
Laughing, I point at the statue of a wolf with two small boys suckling on her teats. “That’s the original Remus and Romulus,” I say.
“The who?”
I begin to weave the tale, my voice soft yet filled with passion. “Remus and Romulus were twin brothers,” I explain, my words taking on a rhythmic cadence as I recount the ancient legend. “They were abandoned as infants and left to die, but fate had other plans for them. They were rescued by a she-wolf called Lupa, who nurtured them as her own, and they grew to become fierce warriors.”
Sy listens intently, his eyes locked on mine as I continue to speak.
“Eventually, Remus and Romulus founded the city of Rome together,” I say, a sense of wonder coloring my tone. “But their bond was tested when they disagreed over where to build the city’s walls. In the end, Romulus became the first king of Rome.”
I pause, allowing the weight of the story to settle between us. “It’s a tale of brotherhood, loyalty, and the enduring spirit of perseverance,” I conclude, a wistful smile gracing my lips.
“Hmm, so the wolf-crest is like a tribute to them?”
Taking a moment, I consider his question. No one has ever asked me that before, so I’m not sure how to answer. To me, it just is, always has been and always will be. But putting that into words is harder than I thought.
“It’s more who we… they are. Whether you want to claim the Russo family is Mafia or a secret society. Maybe both? Or neither? But the family is linked to Rome in ways that stood the test of time.”
“I like it,” Sy says, pulling me closer. “But to me, you’ll always be my bunny.”
Smiling up at him, I let the words wash over me. Hearing him say he loved me the day after my surgery is one of those memories I’ll always treasure. During the trial, or whatever you want to call it, I was so sure things were over between us. So learning Sy wants me around forever makes everything worth it. All the heartache, pain, and suffering I’ve ever felt led me into the arms of Sawyer Perry, the single best place in the world.
“Am I interrupting?”
I look up as Remus makes his presence known. Before I can say anything, Sy growls, “Yes.”
“What’s up?” I ask, looking straight at Remus.
He looks good. It’s hard to describe it, but it’s almost like he’s aged backward. The lines under his eyes have vanished entirely, giving him an almost boy-ish look.
“I came to give you this.”
He holds out a scroll of paper that I’m quick to take from him. “Oh!” I exclaim. It’s my freedom—literally. He’s severing our familial ties, irrevocably setting me free. “Thank you.” My voice is hoarse as I choke back a sob.
“I’m sorry for playing you, Luce,” Remus says, his tone sincere. “But I didn’t know any other way. Taking over from my dad has been harder than I thought.”
Pressing my lips together, I swallow back the words on my tongue. I categorically refuse to say it’s okay because it’s unquestionably not. Do I understand it? Sure. I’m not even holding a grudge, I just refuse to tell him it’s fine. Though I should be angry about it, I’m not. Weirdly, I’m relieved that Remus was behind it all rather than Fabian being clever enough to pull it all off by himself.
“You fucking should be,” Sy retorts. “You used my wife to save your empire. What kind of man does that?”
Remus chuckles. “You got a wife out of it. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be fucking your way through… what do you call them? Puck bunnies?”
Sy clenches his fists, but now it’s my turn to speak before him. “Y-you’re the one who made the sponsors complain?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus grins. “But yeah, it sounds like something I’d do, doesn’t it? One could even imagine I’m behind your GM picking Lucia. But of course, that’s just speculation. No one knows who did or didn’t do anything.” Then he turns to Sy. “By the way, that woman wasn’t married.”
My jaw drops. I know exactly what Remus just alluded to, and by the way Sy shoots to his feet, he does as well. “You fucking what?” he roars.
Even though my husband is towering over my cousin, the latter doesn’t back down or even look apologetic. He just shrugs. “It all worked out, didn’t it? You two are together for real, so what does any of it matter?”
I slowly push to my feet, panting like I’ve run a marathon. “Remus,” I say, intending to make it sound like a warning. Sadly, it comes out more like a wheeze, making it very anticlimactic. “We get it. You’re behind everything. You had your reasons, but don’t for one second think we’re going to thank you.”
My cousin dips his head. “I respect that, Luce.” His eyes lock on Sy who still looks like he wants to throttle him. “I’ve already put word out and made things right with your team. The official story is that Fabian was blackmailing Lucia, and that he was so obsessed he kidnapped her.”
He already told us he was going to do this, so I just nod.
“Oh, come on now. I deserve at least a thank you for making Sy the hero who protected his wife.”
In fairness to Remus, he has been very thorough. When the police ransacked Fabian’s home in Minneapolis, they found a room littered with pictures of me. Even some of Sy with his eyes scratched out. The security tapes showing Fabian at the airport show me at his side, and everyone on the plane has testified I flew with Fabian and that I looked scared.
The public loves Sy more than ever now that they know he dropped everything to charter a private jet and set after me as soon as he learned where I was. How did he find out, you might ask. Well, apparently, a brave stewardess recognized me and contacted Sy directly to let him know I was headed to Rome.
While the story isn’t perfect and has plenty of holes, I know no one will ever poke at them. Remus’ reach and power is enough that he could kill the American President without much clean up. So this is just one of those things people will talk about, and come the next juicy gossip, it’ll be forgotten. The only people who truly know what happened are standing here, and I’m satisfied with that.
“I’ll never fucking thank you for using my wife as a pawn, you dick,” Sy growls. His words bring me back to the two men who look like they’re only seconds from throwing down. “But I will thank you for sending Lucia into my life.”
Shock reverberates through me as my husband holds out his hand to my cousin, and I feel like rubbing my eyes when they shake to make sure I’m really seeing it.
“There’s a few things to go over before you leave,” Remus says, turning to me. “As you know, anyone leaving the family in disgrace isn’t allowed to keep their brand—”
“The fuck?” Sy spits, moving so he’s standing protectively in front of me. “If you lay as much as a single finger on her, I’ll—”
Remus waves him off. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll punch me again. Spare me the theatrics. I was going to say that since she’s not leaving in disgrace, she’s allowed to keep the brand.”
I flinch at the reminder of seeing the skin being cut from my dad’s body before he was executed all those years ago. “O-okay,” I stammer, blinking furiously to get rid of the unwelcome memory. Squaring my shoulders, I step around Sy so we’re standing next to each other. “I want to see Fabian’s body.”
This is something I’ve discussed with Sy, and while he’s not happy about it, he understands I need to see for myself. I’m afraid that if I don’t, I’ll always look over my shoulder.
“Fine,” Remus replies. “But this is the one and only time.”
I agree, and together the three of us walk down to the dungeon underneath Remus’ mansion. Seriously, why must everything have ominous shit hidden below surface level? I mean, I get it, and now that I’m officially no longer a part of it, I guess I’ll never have to think about it again.
We enter a dimly lit, cold, dank smelling room. Fabian’s lifeless body lies on top of a wooden bench. His arms are folded over his chest, and one leg crossed over the other. As I look down at him, I’m having trouble remembering why I was so scared of him.
“Asshole,” I hiss.
I let go of Sy’s hand and move closer. Morbid as it is, I want to commit this to memory. So I let my eyes wander over every inch of Fabian’s exposed skin. As I walk to the other side of the bench, I notice the slices on my ex husband’s exposed thigh. There are eight thinly sliced cuts, completely identical to the ones on my thighs. Without touching his body, which I’ll never do, I can only see one thigh, but I’m pretty sure the other one has matching cuts.
My eyes dart to my husband, and our gazes lock. I don’t need him to speak; this is his handiwork. Emotions I have trouble naming swell in my chest. Love, lust, hunger, awe… but above all, I’m overwhelmed.
“You did this for me,” I breathe. It’s not a question, so I’m not surprised when Sy doesn’t answer.
Since I woke up and was no longer loopy from the medication, I’ve asked what happened to Fabian. All Sy would tell me is that he was gone and could never hurt me again. Something in my husband’s voice made me stop, and instead of pushing for answers, I accepted his words. Now, as I look down at the man who tried to break me, I know without a shadow of a doubt that my ex husband was killed by my current husband.
“I’m ready to leave,” I say to Remus, still not taking my eyes off Sy. “I’m done with the past.”
Without a word, Sy throws his arm around my shoulders, and together, we walk back into the sunlight, leaving my past where it belongs; behind us.
“So,” Sy says as soon as we’re back in our room. “Are you ready to leave Russo and Carter behind and become Lucia Perry soon?”
Smiling up at him, I nod. “Yes, please.”
Out of all the things that happened, thinking I’d lost Sy was by far the worst. It helped me put things into perspective. Like, understanding what’s truly important. It’s not my last name, it’s not being by myself. It’s being with Sy; and starting our life together without lies or threats.
“I love you,” I murmur, my voice growing heavy as tiredness settles in me.
“Now and always, sweet bunny. Now and fucking always.”