54. Wynter
Wynter
U ncle’s expression was murderous.
The detest and hate were so thick in the air it touched my skin as I stood frozen in Bas’ arms, tasting fear.
For Bas’ life. For Uncle’s life. For everyone’s life.
While nobody else seemed concerned, my heart turned to a block of ice.
Fear twisted so violently in my stomach, I felt the need to throw up. I couldn’t let these men kill each other. I turned my head around, meeting Bas’ dark gaze.
No words. No smile. Nothing.
Yet, there was this vulnerability deep down that I sensed more than saw. The ache in my chest swelled. If I didn’t do something, it would mean violence and death. A war .
I knew what I had to do. What I should do. But self-preservation was a hard thing to overcome.
My gaze flicked to Uncle. We hadn’t talked since I took my anger out on him months ago. I blamed him for too much. It was wrong and seeing firsthand he was willing to go to war to keep me protected highlighted it even more.
“I’ll do it,” I rasped. Basilio’s arm around my waist tightened and I swore he pulled me closer to him. All the while a lump in my throat grew bigger and the tension hung over the room like a stormy cloud.
Uncle’s eyes shifted to me. “Wynter, that’s not what your mother wants for you.”
“Neither is a war,” I reasoned.
“Smart girl,” Luca commended. It didn’t feel smart.
“Wyn, no,” Uncle protested. “No, you deserve so much better.” Then he narrowed his eyes on Bas, and if looks could kill, the love of my life would be dead.
“I have to agree,” Sasha chimed in. “I never agree with your uncle, but on this one. Just say the word, Wyn.”
I shook my head. I’d never be able to say the word. Not when it came to killing the man I love. His father… yeah. But never Basilio.
“Wyn?” Uncle called out and I felt like such a cheat. He worried for me and I craved my villain with all my heart. I’d never be able to sever this love I had for him. My heart knew it. So did my soul and brain.
“I got this,” I told him in Gaelic, holding his gaze. “Let me marry him and we keep the peace.”
Maybe I’d at least get the chance to kill Gio.
* * *
I sat locked in my room.
Three of DiLustro’s guards surrounded me and walked me to my room, then locked me in.
Uncle wanted to take me home. Bas refused. He didn’t trust us. He believed I’d disappear at the first opportunity. I wasn’t sure if I would.
I stared at the door.
I’d marry Basilio DiLustro. Before I learned our family history, it was a dream come true. Now, it was just… complicated . And there was the issue of Basilio’s father.
I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig into my palms and relishing in pain. It was my resolve to kill him, make him pay for what he’d done. It was frighteningly easy to pull the trigger the last time. Especially when adrenaline and anger pumped through my veins. I could do it again.
All I had to think of was my mother and I’d find the courage to end him.
I headed back to the French window and stepped out on the balcony. The tiled floor on the balcony felt cool against my bare feet. I leaned back against the wall and slowly sank down. Pulling my legs up against my chest, I leaned my forehead against my knees.
I hadn’t heard a gun go off and I took that as a good sign. Although I hated that they were having conversations about me, without me.
Glancing out at the horizon, the desert appeared endless, surrounding the mansion. The landscape became a reluctant familiarity.
I sat there, staring into the horizon but not really seeing it. I wondered if Mom was okay. I didn’t even ask Uncle.
Jumping to my feet, I rushed to the door and despite knowing I was locked in, I tugged on it. Then I banged like a madwoman.
“Basilio,” I screamed as I banged my fist against the hard mahogany door. “Basilio.”
I kept banging, my fists hurting from the impact.
Steps thundered toward the room and I paused.
“Basilio,” I called out.
The door swung open and I came face-to-face with Dante.
“What the fuck, Wynter?” he grumbled.
“Is my uncle still here?” I asked frantically. He nodded. “I need to ask him about my mother,” I breathed.
“Tell me what you want me to ask him,” he growled with annoyance.
I shook my head. “No, I want to ask him.”
For a moment he stood hesitantly. “For fuck’s sake,” he caved in. “Hurry, because they are getting ready to leave.” I nodded and followed him. “And don’t try anything stupid and make me regret this.”
“You should regret kidnapping me,” I hissed, my steps rushed.
We came into the foyer just as Uncle, Killian, and Sasha headed for the front door. Dante’s hand wrapped around my forearm as I was about to rush to them.
“Uncle,” I called out. Dante tugged me back and I shot him an annoyed look. “Dante, let me go.”
Before he could say a word, Basilio was next to me.
“Release her now, ” Bas ordered, his voice cold, the warning sending icy shivers down my spine. His gaze was on Dante, dark and glaring.
Dante let go of my arm and Bas tilted his head in acknowledgement. I had no clue what the fuck that was about, but when I looked back to my uncle, he and Killian shared a fleeting glance.
“Uncle, how is Mom?” I asked, taking a step to go to him, but Bas held on to me now. I tugged on my arm. “Let go of me, Basilio,” I snapped.
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” he warned and I let out a frustrated breath.
I took five steps and stopped, three feet from the three men that protected me.
“Mom?” I breathed out. “Is she okay?”
Bas remained next to me, the outline of his gun pressing at my back. A reminder if I did something stupid, it could end up in bloodshed. I wouldn’t risk it, but I had to know she was okay.
“She’s okay,” Uncle assured me. “Juliette, Davina, and Ivy are with her.”
“Don’t… Don’t leave her alone, okay?” I whispered.
“Never.”
Ignoring Bas’ hold on me, Uncle wrapped his hands around me and hugged me. It was kind of awkward with Bas at my back, allowing me to hug him with only one hand.
And then Sasha, God help him… or me… took a step forward and pulled me into a hug, tugging Bas right along.
“Hurt a single hair on her head, and you’re dead,” Sasha growled.
“Bring it on, blondie,” Bas answered in a dark voice. Bas’ lips curved into a snarl, his eyes hard and unrelenting. “And don’t touch my woman again. Or I’ll tear you apart.”
“Fucking Italian devil,” Sasha spat back at him.
“Russian prick,” Bas sneered.
“Jesus, is this high school,” I hissed. “I’ll be fine,” I told Sasha in Russian and smiling confidently. “You’ve taught me well.” Something dangerous flickered in Bas’ eyes and I quickly added, “Bye, Sasha.”