Chapter 3
Luca
My head throbbed, and nausea churned my stomach. But the physical discomfort was secondary to the desperate fear that gripped me as soon as I struggled back to consciousness.
“Nora.” I groaned her name and forced my heavy lids to open, searching for her.
The deafening gunfire had died down, and the quiet made my blood run cold. I couldn’t hear her pleas, her screams.
I blinked hard and gasped her name again, pushing myself upright.
A strong hand clamped on my shoulder, shoving me back down. I didn’t hit the concrete floor; I was lying on something soft and strangely comfortable.
“Stop thrashing, you useless bastard. You’ll hurt her.”
I willed the world to solidify around me. Sharp green eyes pierced me, as though Dante could pin me down with the force of his will rather than his restraining hand.
His cutting gaze quickly flicked away, his intense focus centering on Nora. She laid on the bed beside me, pale and utterly still. A man I didn’t recognize leaned over her, carefully cleaning the blood from her face so that he could study her wounds with clinical efficiency.
“What’s happening?” I demanded, capturing her chilled fingers in mine. “Where are the Russians?”
I tried to sit upright again, but Dante forced me back down. Pain jarred my head, and the room swam around me. I willed away the darkness that flickered at the edges of my vision, clinging to consciousness so that I could stay with her.
“I killed as many of them as I could before I got her out, no thanks to you,” Dante growled at me, but his intense attention remained fixed on Nora’s bloody face. “We’re back at my estate. She’s safe now.”
I tore my gaze from her to study my surroundings. My stomach dropped when I recognized the setting: we were in Dante’s bedroom. He’d saved her from the Bratva, but he’d dragged us both back to hell.
“She will never be safe with you,” I seethed. “Let her go.”
His eyes blazed, fixing on me once again.
They burned into me, his hatred searing my soul.
“You did this,” he hissed. “I don’t know how, but this is your fault.
You knew that she’d left the safety of the estate.
You let them get to her.” He bared his teeth at me. “I should kill you slowly for that.”
I snarled right back at him. He was the one who was meant to be dead.
But my blade had missed its mark. A thick bandage was wrapped around his shoulder, already soaked through with blood.
But the fucker was still breathing. The injury I’d inflicted didn’t seem to pain him at all; he was too consumed by his rage and loathing to notice the wound.
Or maybe it was his concern for Nora that kept him upright. Despite his contempt for me, his gaze strayed back to her, his sharp features pinching as though her agony was his own.
I focused on her, too, addressing the man I surmised was Dante’s private physician. “How is she?” I asked. “What did they do to her?”
“You know what they did!” Dante thundered, but he didn’t make a violent move against me. All his muscles locked up tight, and a vein pulsed at his brow as he glowered at me. “And it’s your fault.”
My stomach sank. “I had to get her away from you.” The excuse was bitter on my tongue. “Her father sent Giana to retrieve her. I wasn’t going to deny her the chance to escape this hell.”
“She doesn’t need to escape from me,” he barked.
“She is my wife. And you let her run straight into a Russian ambush. They must’ve grabbed her when she was on the way to her father’s house.
For all I know, they might’ve attacked Giuseppe too.
I haven’t been able to reach him. I could’ve used his men to kill more Russians during the assault. ”
My fists flexed. I hoped the Bratva had killed Giuseppe, my oldest, most hated enemy. Although, he deserved to die by my hand after abusing Nora for years. And after how he’d caused my own mother’s death. If the callous bastard had died, I hoped it’d been slow and painful.
Dante’s attention strayed to Nora again. “How is she?” he asked the doctor, voice gravelly with something like fear.
Nora hadn’t so much as stirred during our argument. She’d been bleeding from a head wound. I could see that she was breathing, but that didn’t mean she’d ever wake up.
“She’ll live.” The doctor responded in clipped, clinical tones. “Nothing is broken, but I’ll monitor her head injury for the next few days. She’ll be in a considerable amount of pain for a while, but she’ll heal.”
Dante sagged with relief, leaning against the bedpost for support. He quickly straightened and went to her bedside, carefully taking her small hand in both of his. He held her as if she was made of glass.
I kept my own careful hold on her other hand, my mind sticking on Dante’s accusation.
You know what they did! And it’s your fault.
The Russians had brutalized the woman I loved.
Another memory flashed through my mind: I love him!
Nora had declared her love for me while she begged for my miserable life, for Dante to spare me from a killing blow.
Guilt tore at my heart more keenly than any blade.
The Russians had raped my wife, and it was my fault.
I’d told Nora to flee with her sister. I’d urged her to leave Dante’s estate, when I knew that they’d staged an ambush nearby only a day earlier.
Dante had taken a bullet to save her during that assault, and it’d only been a few miles away from his defensive walls.
I’d allowed her to run straight into the Bratva’s waiting hands.
I wasn’t worthy of her love; I’d never been worthy of her. I’d been selfish and used her for my own ends, and then I’d failed to protect her from Dante’s sick games. Now I’d failed her in the worst way. It was unforgiveable.
I released her hand as though her chilled fingers had burned me, unable to bear the tender contact when I knew I didn’t deserve to touch her.
She groaned, and her hand twitched toward me. “Luca…” My name was a barely intelligible mumble, and the pain that laced her voice cut at my soul.
“Hold her hand, you selfish fuck,” Dante seethed.
“I will do anything for my wife, even if that means letting you touch her.” His lips twisted as though the words were sour.
“The Russians might’ve broken her, thanks to you, but I’ll do whatever it takes to put her back together again.
You should be screaming for death right now for what you’ve done, but I won’t kill you because that would hurt her. ”
My heart sank. It would hurt her because she loved me.
Reluctantly, I wrapped my fingers around hers, squeezing in a small pulse of comfort even though the contact turned my stomach. My unworthiness was poison in my veins, making me sick with the knowledge that I’d failed her in the worst way.
“I still have Gabriele and Lorenzo as my hostages,” Dante reminded me sharply. “Don’t test me, or they will suffer. Just because you’re not in your cell, that doesn’t mean you’re not my prisoner. I won’t harm you, but I won’t hesitate to torture your friends.”
My fingers tightened around Nora’s as impotent rage pulsed through my self-loathing, a toxic mix of emotions.
“Luca…” Her lashes fluttered, but her eyes didn’t quite open.
“I’m here.” I choked out the promise. “I’m right here.”
“You’re safe, Nora,” Dante murmured, his full attention fixed on her again.
“Dante?” she whispered, and jealousy punched me. “You came…”
“I will always come for you,” he swore. “I will always protect you. The Russians will die for what they did. They will never touch you again.”
She jolted at the mention of the Russians, then went limp on a groan as the movement jostled her head injury.
Dante cursed and motioned to the doctor. “Give her something for the pain.”
“No!” I barked, fresh fear gripping my heart.
They couldn’t give her opioids. For a moment, memories of my mother’s broken form lying in her hospital bed assailed me.
They’d given her plenty of painkillers after my father had beaten her in retaliation for her affair with Giuseppe.
She’d become addicted, and two years later, she’d died of an overdose.
“My wife won’t suffer for one more second,” Dante seethed. “And you are the last person who will cause her pain ever again.” He nodded to the doctor. “Go ahead.”
I gritted my teeth as I watched the needle ease into her arm.
I didn’t want Nora to suffer. She must be in agony after what the Russians had done to her. I couldn’t let her succumb to their torment for another moment.
I took a breath and forced my own dark memories and fears away. I wouldn’t allow my wife to become addicted. She could get the medical treatment she needed, and I would protect her from the potential consequences.
When the tension eased from her pinched features, Dante barked at the doctor again. “Check his head.”
“But your shoulder—”
“I’m fine.” Dante cut him off and glowered at me. “You don’t get to die, you selfish son of a bitch. I won’t do that to her.”
“I’m not hurt,” I ground out, ignoring the throb in my head. I’d suffered far worse, and I didn’t want them to drug me too. I wanted to stay with Nora, not be unconscious. I wouldn’t leave her vulnerable to Dante.
“Shut up, or I’ll cut out Lorenzo’s tongue,” he threatened coldly. “I won’t do anything that might hurt her, and that includes making sure you survive. She loves you.” He spat the words.
The reminder of her desperate declaration knifed through my heart.
My fault. What’d happened to her was my fault. Her father might’ve sent Giana to free her, but I’d urged her to go. I’d commanded her to run straight into the Russians’ waiting hands.
So, I let the doctor check my head injury.
It was nothing compared the agony of my failure, and I easily ignored the small flare of pain as he prodded me.
I was so focused on her that I didn’t even notice when the needle pricked my arm.
Warm darkness crept in at the edges of my mind, and I growled a slurred curse at Dante.
I didn’t want to pass out. I wanted to stay with her.
He ignored me, his intense green gaze fixed on her face as he tenderly stroked her hair back from her cheek. The nauseating image was the last thing I saw before the drugs dragged me under.