Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bella
I snapped my eyes open. Absolute darkness surrounded me, and I blinked hard, searching the shadows, trying to work out what had woken me.
For a moment, I couldn't place where I was. Then I felt the warmth of Declan's body beside me and heard him breathing deeply—not quite snoring, but he was obviously in a deep sleep. And then I remembered everything.
His cottage, and his bed, and the incredible hours we'd spent tangled together, finally finishing what we'd started in the mine. His lovemaking had been incredible. So tender and unexpected that I'd let myself forget about the danger we’d been through.
My mouth was dry, and my throat was scratchy. Maybe I’d been snoring. I needed water.
Carefully, I slipped out from under Declan's arm, not wanting to wake him. He didn't even stir. Not surprising, really. He'd barely slept in the last couple of days, and he looked so peaceful now, his features relaxed in sleep.
The cool air raised goosebumps on my naked skin as I padded quietly across the bedroom floor.
The cottage was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the windows. I made my way to the kitchen, my bare feet silent on the worn floorboards.
As I reached for a glass, a prickle of awareness crawled up my spine. Someone's watching me!
I spun around.
A hand clamped over my mouth. An arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back against a solid chest.
My heart stopped.
I knew that grip. That cologne. That breathing.
Vincenzo!
No! It can't be. He's dead. I killed him. Stabbed him and left him bleeding on the kitchen floor in Sicily.
I thrashed, trying to break free, but he was too strong. My bandaged hands clawed uselessly at his arm.
“Shhh,” he whispered directly into my ear, his voice calm and quiet. Lethal. “If you wake him, I'll kill him. Is that what you want, Mirabella?”
Oh God. It is him. White-hot terror flooded my veins. I went still.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and the familiar condescension in those words made my skin crawl. Something cold and sharp pressed against my ribs. A knife. “Out the door. If you want him to live, don’t make a sound. Try anything, and I cut his throat. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded, my mind racing. He's lying. He'll kill us both anyway. But if I fought now, if I woke Declan, Vincenzo would kill him first and make me watch.
At least, this way, I might have a chance, and Declan might survive.
His grip tightened as he walked me toward the open front door.
I dug my heels in, trying to slow him down, trying to think of a way out. But the worn floorboards offered no purchase, and he was so much stronger. He dragged me forward as if I weighed nothing.
Three steps. Four.
Once I'm outside, I'm dead.
Five steps. We crossed the threshold.
Cool night air hit my naked skin. The moon hung full and bright above us, turning everything silver. A horse neighed somewhere in the distance.
“Did you really think I wouldn't find you halfway across the world?” He spoke in that terrifyingly calm whisper.
His hand was still clamped over my mouth, and tears stung my eyes. “But how?” My voice was muffled through his fingers.
Vincenzo adjusted his hold so I could see his face. See the sick satisfaction in his eyes. “You told me.”
I shook my head frantically. “No, you're lying.”
“You did. Right before you stabbed me. You told me the fake oil wasn't Paolo's fault.”
Fear gripped me as my mind raced back to that argument. I'd been so filled with rage. He'd just admitted to killing Paolo and Dad. Had I really told him about Frank? And Koolaroo?
“You don't remember, do you?” A sick smile crawled across Vincenzo's lips. “You should have made sure I was dead.”
My stomach twisted. I left you bleeding, but I never checked for a pulse.
With my last bit of strength, I drove my elbow back into his ribs as hard as I could and bit down on his palm with everything I had.
Vincenzo jerked back with a hiss of pain, his hand coming away from my mouth.
I sucked in air to scream, but he locked his arm around my throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off the sound before it could fully form.
“Bitch,” he snarled, no longer calm, no longer quiet. His breath was hot and sour against my cheek. “You made me look like a fool. Embarrassed me in front of everyone. My bride tried to murder me. Then you ran like a coward.”
I clawed at his arm with my bandaged hands, but white-hot pain exploded through my blistered fingertips. My nails scraped uselessly against his skin as he squeezed tighter.
“My friend in customs found the flight you took out of Portugal.” He tutted like he was disappointed in a child. “Once I knew you'd come to Australia, I knew exactly where to find you.”
I couldn't breathe. My lungs screamed for air.
He lifted my feet off the ground and carried me down the steps.
Black spots spread across my vision like spilled ink.
“Took me weeks to recover from that fucking stab wound,” he hissed in my ear. “That’s why I sent Rocco and Pike. They told me they found you. But it seems you got away from them. Did your new friend kill them for you, Bella? Is that what happened?”
I threw my fist back over my shoulder, aiming for his face. It connected with nothing but air.
“I'm going to kill you,” he said, his voice calm again, deadly. “But first, I'm going to make you suffer the way you made me suffer, and then I’ll kill your fucking boyfriend. I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born.”
My chest burned. My vision tunneled to a pinpoint of light.
This was it. After everything I'd survived, everything I'd fought through. After finally finding someone true and real with Declan, I was going to die outside his cottage, naked and helpless, while he slept inside.
Vincenzo flew backward, his arm ripping away from my throat.
My legs buckled, and I collapsed onto the steps. Air rushed into my lungs in painful, ragged gasps. My throat felt like I'd swallowed gravel.
Through my tears, I saw Declan. He was naked, standing on the step above us with a knife in his fist, dripping with blood. Moonlight painted him silver, and every muscle in his body was coiled tight.
Vincenzo howled in pain, reaching for a spot behind his shoulder where Declan must have stabbed him.
Declan’s eyes met mine for a split second, and I saw rage. Pure, animal rage.
He launched himself at Vincenzo, driving the knife toward his chest. But Vincenzo twisted away at the last second, and the blade caught his shoulder for a second time.
Blood burst from the deep gash. Vincenzo howled again but shoved off the stairs and dove at Declan.
They crashed down the steps together in a tangle of limbs, hitting the ground with brutal force.
I scrambled backward on shaking legs, my throat screaming with every breath, desperately searching for a way to help.
Vincenzo was a trained killer. Ruthless. Sadistic. He rolled on top of Declan, raining brutal punches down on his back and ribs.
I frantically scanned the verandah. The horseshoes!
I grabbed one with both hands, biting back a scream as pain shot through my burned palms while I tugged it off the nail.
Declan got his legs up and kicked Vincenzo off him. They both scrambled to their feet, circling each other in the moonlight like wolves. Declan’s knife had fallen somewhere in the chaos.
“You think you can protect her?” Vincenzo spat blood onto the ground. “I'll kill you first. Make her watch. Then I'll take my time with her.”
Declan didn't answer. He charged, tackling Vincenzo around the waist and driving him backward into the verandah railing. Wood splintered under the impact.
I swung the horseshoe at Vincenzo's head but missed by inches.
The men grappled, trading vicious blows. Vincenzo rammed his thumb into Declan's eye socket. Declan roared, jerking his head back. Vincenzo drove his fist into Declan's ribs, and when Declan doubled over, Vincenzo locked him in a chokehold from behind.
“No!” I swung the horseshoe again, aiming for Vincenzo's face with everything I had.
The heavy iron connected with a wet crunch. Bone shattered. His grip on Declan loosened, but before he could recover, I swung again.
This time I aimed for his eye. The rusted metal drove into his eye socket with a nauseating squelch. Blood sprayed across my chest, and Vincenzo staggered sideways, his legs buckling, and he crashed to his knees in the dirt.
Declan spun around, gasping for air. Blood streamed from his nose and split lip.
Vincenzo was on his hands and knees, shaking his head like a stunned bull. Blood poured from his ruined face, dark and thick in the moonlight.
But he was still conscious. Still dangerous.
“The knife,” Declan rasped, his voice wrecked. “Where is it?”
I searched the grass and found it glinting a few feet away. “There.” I grabbed it, fighting through the pain as I wrapped my hand around the hilt.
Vincenzo lurched to his feet, swaying but upright. Half his face was a mask of blood. He looked at me, at the knife in my hand, and recognition flickered in his remaining good eye.
“You going to try again?” he slurred through broken teeth. “You couldn't even finish me the first time.”
“She's not alone this time,” Declan said.
Vincenzo snarled and spun with a sudden burst of strength, his boot lashing out at me. The knife flew from my hand, bouncing across the grass and disappearing beneath the verandah.
“Declan!” I screamed.
Vincenzo launched himself forward, all feral momentum and rage, and slammed into Declan like a wrecking ball. They crashed into the railing, sending horseshoes flying as Declan was driven back hard enough to steal the air from his lungs.
Vincenzo's hands locked around his throat.
“No!” I staggered forward and grabbed another horseshoe.
Declan's feet scraped furrows in the grass as Vincenzo squeezed, teeth bared in triumph.
“She belongs to me,” Vincenzo rasped.
Pain blazed through my burned palms as I brought the horseshoe down on his spine with everything I had left. The impact jarred my arms to the bone, but I swung again, striking his bloody shoulder, driven by terror and the sick certainty that if I stopped, Declan would die.
Vincenzo roared and twisted away, turning on me with murder blazing in his remaining eye. Blood slicked his face, his mouth hung crooked, but he was still coming.
“You're dead,” he growled, stepping toward me.
Declan surged up behind him and locked his arm around Vincenzo's neck, dragging him backward with a savage growl. They stumbled and fell, rolling across the grass as Vincenzo thrashed like a captured criminal.
I swung again, smashing the horseshoe into his knee. He howled and clawed at Declan's arm.
I raised the horseshoe and struck his chest, right where his heart was.
Vincenzo's eye flew wide. Recognition flickered there, and I knew he understood this was the end.
Declan's arm tightened.
Vincenzo's fingers gouged bloody tracks into Declan's skin as his face turned purple, then gray.
“Please,” he mouthed, but no sound came.
Declan's eyes met mine over Vincenzo's shoulder. “This ends now,” he said hoarsely. “We end this together.”
Hatred surged through me as I stepped closer. “You killed my father,” I whispered. “You don't deserve mercy.”
I lifted the horseshoe one last time and brought it down with everything inside me: the fear, the rage, the weeks of running, hiding, and pain.
Somewhere between Declan crushing the life from him and my final blow landing, Vincenzo went limp.
One last breath rattled out of him.
Declan held on for long seconds afterward, making absolutely sure.
The silence that followed felt unreal, broken only by our ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart in my ears.
Declan released him and staggered back, clutching his ribs.
I let the horseshoe fall from my numb fingers and stared down at Vincenzo's body. One eye was shattered. The other stared sightlessly at the stars.
And I felt nothing.
No horror. No regret. Only relief.
Declan turned toward me, and the look on his face undid me completely.
We ran to each other and collided, arms locking tightly, both of us shaking.
“Who was that?” he asked into my hair, his voice rough.
I swallowed hard. “Vincenzo.”
“But… I thought you killed him.”
“I thought I did, too.”
He eased back, his gaze searching my face, then dropping to the body. “So, you're not a murderer.”
The words hit me like a blow. Tears spilled free. All this time, I believed I had killed him. Carried that weight. Now, we'd killed him together.
A sob tore out of me before I could stop it.
Declan's hands were firm on my shoulders, grounding me. “We acted in self-defense, Bella. Both of us.”
I dragged in a shaky breath and looked at Vincenzo's crumpled body. It was impossible to tell whose strike had ended him. Maybe it didn't matter.
“Look at me,” Declan said quietly.
I met his eyes.
“You know this was self-defense.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes.” The word felt heavy, but solid. “I know.”
And I did. Why he’d died didn't matter anymore.
What mattered was that he was gone.
We stood there naked and bruised in the moonlight, holding each other over the man who had hunted me across continents and nearly stolen everything I'd just found.
“You're safe now,” Declan murmured, pulling me into his arms. “He'll never hurt you again.”
I buried my face against the hairs on his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.
Finally, Declan pulled back, his face grim. “We need to get rid of him. Tonight. No one can ever know he was here.”
My mind reeled, but I nodded. “This has to stay between us, Declan.”
“Absolutely.” He cupped my face gently and sealed his promise with a tender kiss that devastated my heart.
We were forever bound together now. Not by fear. Not by guilt. But by survival.
“If we hadn't killed him,” I whispered, “we'd both be dead.”
Declan pressed his forehead to mine. “I know. We did what we had to.”
I looked down at Vincenzo one last time.
“We need to make him disappear,” I said. “Completely.”