CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Then
She woke up in a hospital with tubes in her veins.
Groggy, aching, and feeling like her lungs were full of lead.
The memories rushed to the forefront of her mind.
The alcohol. The despair. The fire. Achilles.
The only thing she’d ever wanted was for him to be happy and thrive. And somehow, she couldn’t even get this right because, instead of eliminating herself from his life in a way that wouldn’t make him struggle with a decision, she’d hurt him. Maybe even killed him.
What if he died?
What if she’s caused permanent damage?
She ripped the needles and tubes from her veins. Pushing up on wobbly knees, she staggered to the door. Her vision was blurry, and she bumped into things.
“I—I need to see him,” she whimpered, even though she was alone. “I have t—to make sure that h—he’s okay.”
Once in the hallway, she flung her shoulder against a wall to support herself.
He’d saved her.
She’d tried to commit suicide, set her room on fire, and he’d saved her.
Idiot! She was supposed to save him from herself. From a life with a barren wife and a family that’d forever resent him once they found out her secret.
“Whoa. Easy there, tigress.” Tiernan rushed toward her from the other side of the hallway, steadying her with his hands. “You need to be in bed.”
“I need…need…to see him. Take me to him.”
“See who?”
Like everyone else, Tiernan wasn’t aware of her relationship with Achilles. She made sure of it. She didn’t want Achilles to get into trouble with his family.
“Ach…Achilles,” she coughed out. “He saved me. He should be here.”
He opened his mouth, about to argue, but something in her expression told him she wasn’t backing down. “Go rest. I’ll find him for you.”
Achilles was being treated just down the hall. She and Tiernan stopped outside his room, where two Camorra soldiers stood on guard.
“Let her through.” Her brother jutted his chin at his sister. “She’s the girlfriend, apparently,” he muttered in annoyance.
“Don’t care if she’s the fucking pope,” one of the soldiers spat sideways. “No visitors unless Don Vello says so.”
Tiernan’s expression clouded. “What if I tell you the next time I have to repeat myself, your windpipe is going to be used as my fucking—”
“Let her in,” Luca ordered from the darkened room. He stood up, waltzing over to them. “But first, I want a word.”
He reached the door, lowering his head to whisper in her ear. “Privacy.”
“Tiernan, leave,” Tierney snapped.
Her brother’s hooded eyes promised to shed blood at the slightest provocation. “Fine, but remember I’m around the corner, Ferrante. And very trigger-fucking-happy to take you and everyone in your family tree down.”
“Well aware.”
He left. Luca still stood in her way, blocking the entrance. He was huge, handsome, and well dressed. But so impersonal and dead that he reminded her of a shark.
“How’re you feeling?” She knew he was asking just to be polite.
“Been better.”
Luca’s cold gaze swept along her face, sending an ice cube down her spine. He wasn’t supposed to know she and Achilles were together, though she guessed he had a good idea now.
“Is he…is he okay?”
“He’s awake, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Can I see him?”
“You can, and you fucking will. Because once you get in there, you are going to break off your little affair whether you want to or not.”
Her eyes widened. She knew, of course, that it was the logical thing to do. That Achilles deserved better. But with everything he’d done for her, it was hard to imagine doing this to him.
“B—but we love each oth—”
“Stop right there.” Luca clapped a heavy hand over her shoulder.
“You’re a smart girl. You know as well as I do this shit won’t last. Don Vello won’t let it.
He has big plans for Achilles. He sent me to tell you this is over.
So it is over. Either you break it off, or I’ll break you. Now, which is it going to be?”
She stared in his vacant, merciless eyes and knew he’d kill her without so much as a blink. Luca Ferrante was just as cruel as Achilles, but unlike Achilles, he’d never shown a trace of humanity or emotion to her.
And he wasn’t wrong. They were doomed from the beginning. A Romeo and Juliet of the underworld.
“I’ll let him make that decision.” She stuck her chin out.
“If he picks you, I’ll kill you myself,” Luca said. “And while you don’t give two shits about your own life, he does. It’d break him like nothing else. I advise you to think carefully.”
She nodded, stifling a cry. “I’ll break it off.”
“Good girl.”
“I never meant to hurt him, you know.”
“Sweetheart.” Luca palmed her cheek, giving her a pitying look. “I don’t give a fuck.”
Dizziness took over her as she wobbled inside the room. Her vision became white and spotty, and she collapsed onto a chair in front of his bed to stop herself from fainting.
She blinked into focus. Slowly, her vision returned, but she wished it hadn’t.
Achilles was no longer the gorgeous, chiseled boy with the shy composure and bottomless brown eyes.
He looked…terrifying.
His face was partly hidden by bandages, but whatever was visible was marred with red, swollen scars.
He was awake and alert, studying her reaction to him wordlessly. She wanted to cry, to beg for forgiveness, to run away.
She did none of those things. Just took his hand and brought it to her lips. Kissed it gently, scared to hurt him.
“Are you okay?” His voice was scratchy.
That was all it took for her tears to start falling. It was just like him to worry about her until the very end.
“Yes. Are you?”
His disfigured lips stretched into a smile. “Take a wild guess.”
She was going to break it off. To save him from her. And to save them both from Don Vello. Luca made it clear she’d never be accepted into the family.
“I started the fire.” Her chin vibrated. “I…I wanted to die.”
“You wanted to leave me?” he croaked.
She said nothing.
“Even though you knew it’d kill me?”
Silence.
“They say people who commit suicide are selfish.”
She’d heard that before, and she did not agree at all. If being altruistic meant suffering an agonizing existence every second of every minute of every day of every year for the rest of her life, then maybe self-sacrifice was overrated. She’d never meant harm to anyone but herself.
“I—I knew your father would never accept m—”
“That’s for me to worry about, not you.”
She pursed her lips, staring down at her bare feet. “You didn’t even tell your family we were together, Achilles.”
“You knew I’d save you.” He ignored her words.
“Yes.”
“And you still did it.”
She thought he’d be too late. He’d arrived hours earlier. She thought she’d planned this so carefully to spare him…
“Yes. But, Achilles—”
“Let me guess, instead of telling me what you were worried about, you drank yourself half to death, as usual, then tried to off yourself instead of fucking TALKING TO ME.”
She flinched. He was right. But she was still new to loving someone. She’d never done it before.
“I thought I was doing you a favor,” she whispered.
He snorted derisively. “How do I look?”
“W—what?”
“How. Do. I. Look?” He enunciated each word.
“You…” She looked away from him, not because she was disgusted but because his face was a reminder of what she’d done. “You look like the love of my life.”
“The TRUTH,” he roared.
“You don’t look good,” she admitted. When she chanced another look at him, she saw the unwavering cruelty in his expression. The one he gave everyone but her until today. “You look…you look bad.”
“Funny.” His lips twisted in a bitter curl. “You look just as gorgeous as the last time I saw you. If not a little pale.”
She hung her head in shame. She wanted to just tell him the truth.
That she wanted to die because she couldn’t be the woman he was destined to marry.
Vello would never ever let them go through with the wedding.
And even if he did, Achilles would feel betrayed.
No offspring. No heirs. If Achilles didn’t have children, he’d never become don.
And that was all he’d ever aspired to be. It was his dream.
Maybe he’d have stayed with her anyway. He was a good man. But he’d take a mistress. Another woman who could bear his children. And those kids would run between her legs in Camorra weddings and funerals, a constant reminder she wasn’t good enough.
But it was too late now anyway. Luca was going to rip the world to shreds if she didn’t break up with Achilles. He’d made it clear.
“Tell me why you almost killed me,” he demanded.
“I…” Tell him the truth. Tell him how much you lost in Siberia. Open up to him. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He was so shocked, it came out as a whisper.
“I guess I…” She pushed each word out of her mouth like it was poison. “I guess I just needed to get rid of you somehow, and that was as good way as any.”
He stared at her, shocked.
“You got too clingy.” She forced herself to shrug. “And I knew you’d save me. I kind of hoped…” Say it. Just say it and get it over with. “I kind of hoped you’d die saving me.”
He closed his eyes. “We’re over.”
This hurt her so badly she couldn’t breathe. She felt the words in her bones. They scorched through her. She squirmed on the chair.
“I’m so sorr—”
“Don’t,” he snapped. “I don’t want your pity.”
“Achill—”
“Don’t feel so bad, Piccola Fiamma,” he cooed. “Once I get out of here, I’ll ruin your life, too. That way we’ll be even. Now, truth?”
“Truth” she found the courage to whisper.
“I will always fucking love you, but I’ll spend every waking moment of my life making sure no one else ever does.”
And with these words, he condemned her to a loveless life, allowing no one to take his place.