Chapter 56
56
F rom Leslie's perspective, the world was a precarious balancing act on the edge of a knife, quite literally. The blade pressed against her skin was uncomfortably cold, and she felt her pulse throbbing against the sharp edge, each beat a stinging reminder of her fragility.
The fear was there, a white-hot presence coiling in her stomach. She saw the reflection of it in Alex's eyes. It was a strange sort of comfort to know they were in this together.
As Alex continued to talk to Livia, Leslie found herself focusing on his voice.
"Why would you put your daughters in danger, Livia?" Alex asked, his voice carefully controlled. "They're innocent in all this."
Livia scoffed, a harsh sound that echoed through the silent room. "There are always casualties in war, Alex. Bella and Maria... they're too soft. Just like Mia was. They wouldn't last a day in our world."
The cold detachment in Livia's voice sent a shiver down Leslie's spine. To think of her own children as collateral damage... it was unthinkable. Yet, Livia spoke of it as if it was a mere fact of life.
As Livia continued to justify her actions, Leslie tried to focus on survival.
From the moment that cold blade pressed against Leslie's throat, her mind had cycled through the teachings Alex had instilled in her during their self-defense lessons. She was vividly aware of every time Livia shifted, every time her grip loosened slightly or her attention wavered.
Alex's voice continued, a steady rhythm of calm and controlled questions. It was during a moment when Livia's gaze flicked to Alex that Leslie made her move.
She remembered Alex's instructions about leverage and the frailty of the human wrist. Her hands, previously limp, sprang to life. One hand snapped up to grasp Livia's wrist while her other hand seized the base of the blade. With a swift, twisting motion, she was able to yank the knife away and bend Livia’s wrist back until she dropped the knife.
But there was no time to dwell on the triumph. Livia's shock quickly gave way to rage, and she lunged at Leslie. Leslie dove to the side, feeling the air whoosh past her as Livia's fingers barely missed her.
Alex surged forward, his years of training evident in the grace and precision of his movements. His arms closed around Livia, his hands forcing hers to open and release the knife that she'd managed to swipe from the floor. The knife clattered to the ground, landing near Leslie's feet. Alex turned and shoved Livia against the wall, his hand clasped around her throat, causing Livia to instantly gasp for breath.
"Hand me the knife," Alex commanded, his voice cold, detached.
Slowly, she picked up the knife. It felt heavy and foreign in her grip. She saw the determination in Alex’s eyes, the resolution that lay within him.
"You know what I'm about to do," he said softly, almost regretfully. "What I have to do. It would have been done long ago, if I hadn't been so blind."
“Alex,” she whispered.
“She killed Father Alessio, Leslie.”
Leslie gasped, her gaze shooting to Livia, who was frantically clawing at Alex’s fingers in her attempt to get him to release her throat.
Father’s gentle face flashed in her mind, as did the realization that once again, Alex had lost someone important to him.
She pictured it then: handing him the knife. The blade flashing once. A gurgling noise filling the air, followed by the sickening sound of liquid hitting the floor as Livia's eyes widened before she crumpled to the ground.
Livia probably deserved such a gruesome death, but Alex?
He already felt like a monster; killing this woman would solidify that thought in his mind, form it into something that could never be broken down.
She threw the knife across the room.
“No, Alex. That’s not you. Let the police handle her.”
For a moment, Alex just stared at Leslie, his eyes blazing with frustration. But slowly, that frustration slowly melted away, as did the look in his eyes that demanded vengeance. Blood. His grip on Livia didn’t loosen, but Leslie saw it, how quickly he regained his humanity. Suddenly, he was staring at Leslie with nothing but awe and adoration.
Slowly, he allowed Livia to take a breath of air.
Almost immediately, Livia started laughing. “Weak. Just like Mia. You know how to pick them, Alex.”
Alex turned his head to look at her, then in a blur of movement, chopped his hand against her neck. Livia’s eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed to the ground.
“I just knocked her out,” he said. “Grab the phone I put down and call the police.”
Leslie nodded, grabbing the phone. When she just stared at it, Alex instructed her how to call the equivalent of 911. Thankfully, the person who answered spoke English. “They’re on their way,” Leslie said.
Alex nodded. About five minutes later, they heard the wail of sirens in the distance.
Livia stirred. She blinked her eyes open, groaned in pain, and looked up at Alex.
He stared down at her then said, “Something tells me Luca won’t have a woman to bring him back from the edge when he finds out what you did. You’ll be dead before you ever reach trial anyway, Livia. But it won’t be by my hand. You have Leslie to thank for that. Or should I say, I do.”
As soon as the ambulance took Father Alessio’s body away and the police left with Livia, Alex took her trembling hands in his, their warmth a striking contrast against her icy skin.
"Leslie.” His voice broke through her shock, his thumb tracing soothing circles over her knuckles, the rhythmic motion almost hypnotic. He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. She leaned into him, her body instinctively seeking the comfort and security he provided.
He stroked her hair, his fingers gently untangling the knots. It was a simple, intimate gesture, but to Leslie, it felt like an anchor in the storm. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head.
"Thank you, Leslie," he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over her skin. "Thank you for stopping me."
Leslie clung to him and she found herself matching her breathing to his. Inhale. Exhale. With every breath, the horrific memory of being held at knifepoint and then fearing that Alex was going to kill Livia receded, pushed back by the calming cadence of Alex's voice and the comforting thud of his heartbeat.
With time, her shaking subsided, replaced with an exhausted calm. She remained nestled within Alex's arms, her body tucked safely against his. His heart continued its soothing rhythm, a silent reassurance that despite the horror they'd faced, they were still alive, and they still had each other.
Gently guiding Leslie back to their room, Alex spotted the monk who’d given him the phone when Luca called. The look of shock and devastation on the man's face struck a painful chord in his chest. It spoke to the hole that Father’s death would bring, not just to Alex’s life but to so any others.
Once they were safely tucked away in their new room, Alex gently maneuvered Leslie onto the bed and under the covers. He slipped in beside her, wrapping her in his arms and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
But even as he offered her comfort, his mind was in turmoil. He knew that they were standing at the edge of a precipice. The events of the night had opened a door that he couldn't close, one in which Leslie had calmed the monster within him. Saving him.
Yet his past was still stained with blood, his hands not fit to hold someone as pure and good as Leslie. He was a man born in darkness, his life defined by violence and deception. He might not have killed Livia, but he would have if Leslie hadn’t stopped him. He couldn't change who he was. And he couldn't drag Leslie into the darkness with him.
He tightened his hold around her, the fear of losing her, of causing her any more pain, clawing at him. But he knew what he had to do.
The monastery's walls were silent, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded within them earlier. The only sound was the soft hush of Leslie's breath, as if the night had washed away the terror of the events.
"When we get back to New York," she began, her voice a low whisper in the quiet room, "it won't be like this. We can actually be together without all the danger."
Alex felt his heart breaking. He knew he had to tell her, knew the words that had to pass his lips, yet they felt like the bitterest betrayal. His heart was heavy, not just the pain he was going to cause her, but the suspense of his own destruction.
"I can't be with you, Leslie," he finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper, the words echoing like a death knell in the silent room. He felt her stiffen against him as the words hung between them, tangible and terrible. "I’m not safe for you. I will always have enemies. Livia is proof of that."
She pulled away, looking up at him with a fierce glare. "But you saved me, Alex. You saved me again and again.”
“Sunshine, you saved yourself by disarming Livia.”
“Only because you taught me how to do it. Without you even touching Livia, you saved me. You always will.”
The sight of her so earnest and trusting, believing in him despite all the odds, tore at him, making him feel like he was crumbling from the inside. "Until I don't save you. Or worse, until I’m the cause of your pain, just as I almost was tonight. I can’t be the cause, Leslie. I’m nothing but trouble."
"Alex, you're not—"
He interrupted her, his voice firmer, leaving no room for argument. "Mia's sister came after you, Leslie," he said. "Because of me. It was a reminder for us both – as much as I’ll always cherish our time together, there can’t be anything permanent between us.”
“Except our friendship, you mean,” she said bitterly.
When he didn’t answer, her eyes widened and she viciously pulled away from him and stood.
“We can’t even be friends anymore? You’re really going to do it? Leave New York?”
“Tonight showed me how I’ll always endanger anyone around me. That includes you, but it also includes your family. Even mine. Lee has Natalie to think of now.”
She was quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between them, a chasm that threatened to swallow them whole. He wanted to pull her back to him, but he knew he couldn't. Not this time. He had to do the right thing for her, even if it tore him apart.
He needed to push her away, for her own safety, for her own happiness.
"Marry someone who can give you a safe, respectable life. Not someone like me."
"No," she protested immediately, shaking her head furiously. "Alex, I don't want—"
"You deserve better than what I can offer you," he cut her off, his voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within him. "You deserve a life without fear, without danger lurking in every shadow."
Her lips quivered, her hand reaching out as though to touch him, but she hesitated.
"You are everything, Leslie. Everything good in this world. Find your happiness.”
Without me.
"No,” she said emphatically. “You’re not going anywhere, Alex. You’re not leaving my life. You’re not leaving New York. Absolutely not. You’re going to stay, and I’m going to fight for you, and someday soon you’re going to accept that if I’m everything to you, you’re the air I breathe. I don’t care if we get married, but we’ll be together. We can have a family. Kids.”
Alex sucked in a breath, the temptation of what she was dangling in front of him too much to bear. Which is why his voice was so harsh when he said, "Mia was pregnant when she was killed," he spit out.
He watched as her defiant and hopeful expression changed to shock and horror.
"Alex, no…I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes filled with pain and empathy. He knew she understood the depth of his loss, the guilt and remorse that still haunted him.
"Our baby…I called her my little monkey from the moment we learned we were having a girl. She never got to live because having me in their lives was dangerous. I caused Mia and our unborn child to be killed."
"Alex, that wasn't your fault," Leslie said, her voice trembling. This time she didn’t stop herself from touching him. Her hand covered his heart, right over the tattoo of the monkey that represented his little girl.
Hating to do it, doing it painfully, Alex gently removed her hand.
The hurt he delivered in that moment was all over her face.
He steeled himself against it and shook his head. "Leslie, it was," he insisted. "They died because of me. And I will not risk that again. That's why I had a vasectomy after Mia's death."
“I don’t care,” she said instantly.
“I do. I can’t be the man you need.”
Alex rose out of bed, yet another physical symbol of separating from Leslie, ready to play his trump card. It would be the blow that finally severed whatever remaining connection they had left. “But maybe…maybe I can help you find him,” he said.
She reeled back. “What?”
Even uttering the words had caused a surge of possessiveness he'd never felt before. The idea of Leslie with some nameless, faceless man other than him was... unbearable. But he had to move past that.
“Leslie—”
“Don’t you dare say that again! You think my love for you would ever accept you leaving and setting me up with another man? How little you think of me. Well congratulations, Alex. You’ve finally managed to convince me we don’t belong together. Not if you can resort to something like this. So make your choice, but don’t think you can do it with a clear conscience. If you walk away, you’re not doing it for me.”
He scowled. “You’re wrong.”
“ You’re wrong. More than protecting me, you’re protecting yourself from loss again. I know you’re too smart not to see that, yet you’re still choosing this course. I hope it’s worth it to you. That safety. If it is, then this hurt of mine, it will pass. And maybe someday I’ll find a way to be happy for you. Because I love you wholeheartedly, Alex, and if loving me is too much a sacrifice for you to bear, I’ll live with that. But thank you. Thank you for everything. For protecting me. For protecting my family all these years. Be at peace, Alex.”