CHAPTER 56
Iplace two pillows beside Finn, then slip into a robe and leave the room.
With a knot in my throat, I run down the stairs. Greta tries to speak to me, but I need air. I step out into the garden and, once I’m on the grass, drop to my knees and cry so loud my throat burns.
I trusted her all my life. I thought I could lean on her. She knew everything. She fucking saw how my life was falling apart and did nothing.
Hands touch my back, and I reach for the man, attempting to climb on top of him and choke him. I don’t want anyone to bother me. But a pair of blue eyes stares at me so worriedly that I crumble against his chest.
“What happened? Is it Finn?”
My fingers dig into his shirt. “Where were you?”
He sighs and signals for his guards to leave; I hadn’t even realised they were near us.
“Hit me.”
“What?”
“Do it. I know you’re pissed. Hit me.”
I shake my head and hold him tighter. I feel the desperate need to get inside his skin, to feel something that isn’t this pain.
He grips my neck and turns us, pinning me beneath him. I shove him away and scramble to my feet. I don’t want to hit him, but he catches my arm and yanks me back. I shove him again and again.
“Leave me alone!”
“No.”
“I don’t want to hate myself even more than I already do. Please, stop.”
I turn to leave once more, but he pulls me back one last time and wraps his arms around me—tight, like a snake coiling around its prey.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he whispers, rubbing the back of my head. “What’s wrong?”
I’ve missed this—his hugs. I needed him. I needed him so badly, and they took him from me.
I slip my hands beneath his shirt and trace the scars that weren’t there when we first met.
“Who did this?” I ask, sobbing.
“Sweetheart—”
“Tell me the truth. Everyone lies to me. I don’t want any more lies.”
He sighs. “Your father and Alexei. They got me. Every scar that’s not a bullet wound, or the ones you remember. They did it.”
I dig my nails into his skin. Part of me wants to claw out my own, but he won’t let me.
“Did… did my mum… Did she do something to you?”
“No. She took care of me while I was there.”
My heart stops. “Took care of you?”
He doesn’t answer right away. When I look up, he’s brushing a stray lock of hair from my face.
“Let’s go inside,” he says quietly. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I need to know what happened, too.”
I take a deep breath and press my forehead against his, trying to steady myself. “You’re going to lie to me?”
“Never. I can’t, amore.”
“Where were you? I wanted… We need to talk. A lot. But you weren’t—”
“I had to go to the hospital to get myself checked. I got injured this past week. Nothing serious.”
The guilt hits.
“I… I’m...”
He softens his tone. “You want a cup of tea? My mom’s watching Finn until we go back to bed.”
I nod.
Without letting go of me, he guides me into the kitchen. His arms stay around my waist as he moves, one hand reaching for mugs, the other steadying me as though he’s afraid I’ll vanish. The kettle hisses. I’m trembling, wiping my tears every few seconds while he busies himself with tea.
“I need…” My voice breaks. “I need to know Finn will be fine with any decision I make. I need… I need for us to be f-fine. I need to be certain.”
“I promise,” he says softly, pouring steaming water into the cups. “While you accept my protection, no one will touch either of you.”
“Really?”
He looks at me. “I know how to keep you both safe—whether you decide to be with me or not. But you’ll have to stay under my radar.
“W-why?” Why would he still care if I’m not with him?
He gives me a small, sad smile. “You think everything I said was an act?” He shakes his head. “It’s all real. I need you both safe, even if you don’t want to be with me. It’ll hurt, but I’ll manage.”
Carrying the two mugs, he leads me into the dining room. He drags one chair close to another so there’s no space between us and sits. Then he takes my legs gently and rests them across his lap.
I draw a shaky breath. “My mum just told me she knew everything… Not once did she try to tell me the truth. I can’t believe it. I’m so—”
“She didn’t have any options, sweetheart. A woman’s life in your family isn’t the best experience.
“She let him sell me like a piece of furniture… she let them beat me… she left me alone.”
“I know.”
“I’d rather die than see Finn go through everything I went through.” I don’t tell him about my father; I hope he never knows. “Wouldn’t you?”
He can understand. He’s also a father. My son’s father.
Oh, God. We have a child.
We have a baby.
And he didn’t get to spend time with us during the pregnancy or Finn’s first year because of their lies.
Tears sting my eyes again.
“I would too,” he says quietly, “but tell me—what would you have done? You were with Stefan. You can understand her, ragnetta.”
I shake my head.
“I did everything so he would never touch Finn. I took the blows. I was the one being raped—”
“And your mother was in the same position as you were. Would you kill yourself if you didn’t know what was going to happen to him?”
“No.”
“And knowing he’s a tiny little thing who depends solely on us, would you kill him just so he wouldn’t suffer what you did?”
I sigh. “I thought about doing it…”
“But could you?”
“No,” I admit. “But I wouldn’t lie to him either. I cried for you every night. I called her. Everyone knew… and she never told me you loved me. I just wanted to know I wasn’t used. I wanted to know love was real.”
He rubs my leg and takes a sip of his tea. I do too; it’s delicious.
“There was a time I hated her, but she would’ve done anything—and I mean anything—for you, amore.”
“You’re on her side?”
“I’m on my side.” He grins faintly. “You’re entitled to be furious with her. But now that you know the truth, you also need to know she did what she could. I know how much she matters to you, and I don’t want your father to destroy the bond you still have with her.”
I press my lips together. “She… there are some things…”
“I know she took beatings so you wouldn’t.
She would’ve never left you alone, amore.
What we went through…” He exhales. “When they kidnapped me, they tricked her too. They told her it was her fault. I insisted it wasn’t.
She was tortured as well. And whenever you called, she wanted to pick up and tell you everything. I asked her not to.”
“Why?”
“Because you would’ve put yourself in danger trying to get me out, and we both would’ve ended up dead.” He takes a long sip from his cup, then sets it down and reaches for my hand. His fingers are warm and steady.
“I wanted to pick up,” he continues. “I called you the moment I got out of that place—and I got out thanks to your mother. She called my people and told them where I was. She took that risk. I knew you would confront your father or even Stefan, and I was terrified they’d do something even worse… so, she did what she could.”
My heart twists painfully in my chest. She did. She took the blows when they were meant for me. She always tried to be the target of my father’s anger…
“It still hurts,” I whisper. “She never even tried.”
“She did, ragnetta. Think about it.” His thumb strokes the back of my hand. “Sleep. You must be exhausted. Too much crying for one day.”
I huff a small laugh and tip back the last of my tea. When I glance down into the empty cup, heat rushes to my cheeks.
“Could you sleep with me tonight?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away, and when I glance at him, my cheeks grow hot. “I… I don’t want to leave Finn, so—”
“I will.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips as I nod. We head upstairs together. At my door, he pauses. “I’ll get changed. Won’t take long.”
I slip inside. Greta is still watching something on the TV; as soon as she sees me, she kisses Finn’s forehead, then mine, and murmurs goodnight before slipping out.
My baby is sprawled across the bed like a tiny starfish. I smile, gently tucking him in, then lie beside him, holding him close. He nuzzles into my chest and sighs.
I still can’t understand how my mum never tried to kill my father. I tried. I was ready to kill him because he was a threat to us both—and here, I was ready to kill Dante because I thought he was a threat, too. Even though I loved him, I thought he might hurt us, so I tried. I’m glad I failed.
Dante comes in a few minutes later, wearing only his pyjama bottoms. The scars across his torso make my stomach twist. Some are still healing; others, faint and pale, must be the ones they carved into his skin when they tortured him.
“Why did you go to the hospital today?” I ask.
He turns off the light before sliding into bed beside Finn. His arm stretches over our son until his hand finds the small of my back, rubbing slow circles.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this good, even with Mum’s issue on my mind.
No one is going to come and kill us; no one is going to beat me. Dante is with me, and my son is too.
Our son.
“I got shot in Ireland,” he whispers. “I gave my vest to a little girl.” He pauses. “I had to get some things about the organisation done, and the shelter. There was no death today.”
I let out a huff, then inhale deeply, closing my eyes. The mattress dips as he shifts closer, so close that Finn ends up sprawled half on his chest. Dante slides one arm beneath my head, pulling me to them.
When I open my eyes again, his face is right there, only inches from mine. Butterflies take flight low in my belly.
“What is this, Lana?” he breathes.
“I’m not entirely sure,” I murmur.
A crooked grin tugs at his mouth. “Will I have to wait until Finn gets married to find out?”
“Maybe.”
He groans dramatically, and the sound melts into a quiet laugh that makes my lips curve, too.
Finn moves until he’s pressed against me again, one of his small hands on my neck. Dante brushes his hand across them, then to his puffy cheeks. Sadness blooms over him, so I try to distract him.
“They told me they call you the butcher, but in Italian, or something like that.”
He huffs. “Il Macellaio”.
“After what you did with Stefan, I finally understood why. It’s disturbing.”
“Honestly, I wanted to keep that part of my job hidden from you. You should never have seen what happened that day.”
“I’ve heard you also kill anyone who gets in your way. Women, children, babies—”
“I’ve never killed children or babies.”
“And women?”
“Only the dangerous ones.”
“Meaning?”
“Pimps, traffickers. Same trash as everyone. I try not to, but they leave me no choice.”
A shiver runs down my spine. “How will I know that what you tell me is true?”
“I have no reason to lie to you.” Our eyes meet. “You know how I am, what I do for a living. It’s always people who deserve it. I wouldn’t be capable of harming someone innocent.”
“Who is it, at this point?” I sigh. “I can’t even trust my mother.”
He looks down again.
“Our son.” Oh. “My mother hasn’t killed anyone, either. Some people in the shelter haven’t, or have never even thought about it.”
“I tried to kill you.”
“Just like you would try to kill anyone who kidnaps you.” He pauses.
“It doesn’t really matter if you’re completely innocent or not, but what leads you to do those things?
Is it money? Survival instincts? Ambition?
Need?” He looks at me again. “There’s no act that is strictly good or bad—that’s bullshit.
There are motives, and that’s what we need to judge. ”
“What about abusers? Every abuse is bad.”
He shakes his head, and my stomach tightens.
“There are also motives. Are they forced to? Are they threatened? Or are they doing it because it benefits them?”
“I don’t think—”
“There are many boys in the shelter who have been forced to,” he whispers, even more quietly.
“Some of them think they did it willingly, when they are just another victim of manipulation.” He shakes his head.
“I would die before I did something like that, but some of them are kids.” He looks back down at Finn.
“They just want to be safe and get back home.”
I look at my son, and my heart squeezes. I hold him tighter.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” a redhead says.
The girl beneath him cries and kicks. Her blonde hair is so dirty that it appears brown.
When she first arrived, she was so beautiful I thought she was a model.
Now we’re nothing but walking disasters.
Her once blue, sparkling eyes are now dark, wet with tears.
Empty. Her skin is red and grimy, just like mine.
We both have bruises as well; that’s what you earn for fighting for your life.
There are more men watching us. The one on top of me growls disgustingly and laughs now and then. The redhead hasn’t stopped crying.
The same man grabs my cheeks and forces me to look at him, spitting in my face.
“Look at me, you whore.”
It doesn’t matter how much the redhead cries; he doesn’t stop, nor do his apologies.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry—”
We both have a man aiming a gun at our heads. She hasn’t stopped fighting or crying. I’ve already given up. My heart could stop, and I wouldn’t care.
I just want to die.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
If he’s sorry, why doesn’t he do something? Why does he keep doing it? It’s the same trash that brought us here.
The girl yells. I glance from the corner of my eye. The man is pressed against her body. He no longer says sorry.
Someone hands him a gun. He shakes his head, but they whisper something into his ear.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four…
He shoots her in the head.
The screaming and crying stop.
She’s dead. I didn’t even know her name. Another forgotten name, another girl missing, another hole in a family.
The man digs his fingers into my face again.
“If you don’t want that, then you’ll look at me, whore. Or do you want him to fuck you too?”
A tear escapes my eye. Even if I don’t want to, he’ll do it, just like every other man in his room.
I’m tired.
I don’t want to see them anymore. They’re all the same.
Please, make it stop.
Please.
They were aiming at him.
I thought it was for the girl, but it was for him… and he wasn’t the only one.
While they cried, everyone laughed and insulted them. Some even begged for their lives. I kept wondering, why wouldn’t they rather die? Now I realise I wouldn’t want Finn to choose that option.
Does that make me selfish? I wouldn’t want him to suffer with the memories, but—
“You know they call me Death too?” he says, distracting me.
“No… why?”
He brushes away a tear that slips from my eye.
“Because I’m getting them, sooner or later.” He rubs my cheek. “And I promise you, cara mia, I’ll do anything in my power to protect you both. You won’t go through things like that again. Trust me.”
I sigh.
“I’ll try.”