39. Enough
Enough
Time could be such a cruel cunt.
I’d survived years in that bunker under McKenna’s brutality. Yet three days without Soraya were harder. It felt as if she were everywhere, yet nowhere at all.
I’d noticed the empty coffee cup on the kitchen counter, her lipstick stain still visible. Or the lingering scent of her perfume in a room she’d left before I arrived. I’d hear her voice somewhere in the mansion, turn towards it with my heart racing, only to realise I was imagining it.
I’d even forced myself to be more sociable, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
I’d come in for breakfast. She’d already eaten and left.
Lunch? Busy with Arianna and Liliana. Dinner?
With her mam. The one time we’d passed each other in the corridor, I’d been walking with Giovanni to his office, and she’d walked straight past, eyes cast down. She didn’t even look at me.
It pissed me off far more than it should have. I understood her reasons. Fuck, they made sense. It was self-preservation. It was survival. It didn’t stop me from beating the shit out of the punching bag in the gym multiple times a day, though.
And sleep? That was a thing of the past. Instead, I’d spend my nights on the edge of the pool, hoping she’d sneak in again.
She never did. More memories returned every day, making the distance and silence between us feel even louder.
Every flashback knocked the wind out of me like a punch to the gut, leaving me with a new sense of loss for something I’d never realised I’d had.
Her smile. Her laugh. When I took her virginity.
Holding her every night. Her cold feet between my legs.
She was always humming a soft, haunting tune as she scribbled on paper.
Her fingers ran over my scars and ink as we had deep conversations while the rest of the world slept.
Three days of the worst torture I’d ever been put through, because it already felt like I’d lost her.
The wedding preparations were in full swing. Her family was writing the guest list. Dress designers had been in the house. Flowers had been picked. A date had been set. Next Tuesday. Five days. Five days until she was another man’s wife.
I’d kept telling myself it was what was best for her. I was here for revenge for my family. She was marrying him to save hers. The Russian had money, status and power. He’d keep her safe. Maybe she’d end up falling in love with him. Have his kids. Build a life she loved.
The thought made me want to commit murder. His, preferably.
I took a long drag on my cigarette as I kicked my feet through the pool water.
The Russian gave us the location yesterday, and the ambush was planned.
Tomorrow, we’ll fly to Belgium. McKenna will be mine.
Then I’d do what she asked. I’d leave. I’d let her brothers live.
Killing them would hurt her. And no matter how much I wanted them to pay for Connor’s death, I couldn’t kill her family and live with it.
Instead, I’d be on a plane to Australia to find Riley.
“Well,” a deep voice boomed from the other side of the pool. “You look considerably less dead than when I last saw you.”
My fingers curled into a fist on my knee.
Santino Buccini. I’d seen his face in photographs around the mansion.
The man Nolan said had tortured my brother so horrifically that Connor pulled a gun on himself to end his suffering.
The asshole who had also apparently yanked me from a gantry when I’d been so close to attacking McKenna.
He was the reason I woke up with a fractured skull and no memories of Soraya.
He let the gate close behind him, carrying two beer bottles in one hand, and walked towards me.
My jaw pulsed as I let my glare take him in.
Wearing an expensive black shirt, sleeves rolled up, he strolled in with all the confidence of a man who’d never waited for permission in his life. He did whatever the hell he wanted.
When he reached me, he handed me a bottle of beer. I glared at it. He raised an eyebrow, a cocky smirk on his face that took every bit of mental and physical restraint not to punch it right off his face.
“A peace offering.”
I moved my gaze back to the pool and grabbed it from his hand without a thanks.
He kicked off his designer shoes and sat down beside me, letting his feet sink into the pool.
“My brother said you weren’t the talkative type.” When I didn’t answer, he bobbed his head and sighed. “Alright. Let’s get this awkward as fuck bit out of the way.”
I took a swig from the bottle, my mind filled with thoughts of shoving him into the pool and drowning him.
“I owe you an apology.”
I scoffed. He owed me more than that.
He sighed dramatically, running his hand through his dark, wavy hair. “Look. I’m allergic to making apologies. Ask my family. I break out in a rash and everything, but when I fuck up, I own that shit.”
The silence stretched between us. He took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s the first time I’ve had to apologise for nearly killing someone.”
“If you’d succeeded, you wouldn’t have to.”
He rubbed his jaw. “True, but… I’d still have felt bad. When I thought I had killed you, I felt… guilty. I didn’t know why, but my gut told me it was a mistake before Gio told me who you are.”
“If killin’ makes you feel guilty, you’re in the wrong profession,” I gritted. My younger brother’s toothy grin and rosy cheeks covered in mud, flashed in my mind.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever felt guilty about,” Santino said, making my blood boil. “That’s the point.”
“Glad my survival inconveniences your conscience.” This asshole needed to get the fuck away from me, quickly, before I did something that would mess up my plans to let her family live.
“You can sleep soundly again.” I flicked my cigarette away and stormed back into the pool house.
He didn’t take the hint. He followed me as I flopped onto the sofa and switched on the TV. He leaned against the living room doorframe, watching me.
“Do you not want to know why I pulled you down from that gantry, even after you’d spared my life?”
“Couldn’t give a fuck.”
“Hear me out. Just so I can feel less of an asshole.”
“That seems like it would be a waste of both our time.” I turned the TV up louder.
“Picture this,” he shouted over the noise.
He was like an annoying fly that wouldn’t piss off.
He lifted his hands as if conjuring a vision before him.
“My little sister, the apple of my eye, was kidnapped. Gone without a trace for six weeks. Her life means more to me than my own. I was losing my mind. Six weeks of pent-up anger, frustration and worry. Then… I get to unleash it. Face one of McKenna’s men in a cage to save her and bring her home.
And keep my wife safe from Sean, too. I had to kill you.
That was the deal. It was a fight to the death.
Me or you. I didn’t pull you from that gantry to save myself.
I did it to save my wife and my sister from Sean. ”
I stared at the Italian woman on the screen, speaking rapidly, not listening or understanding a word.
“You’re still an asshole.”
Santino smiled. I glared. His amused expression wavered, replaced by seriousness.
“I know Sean took away everyone you loved. I don’t expect your forgiveness, only your understanding. I was protecting the women I love.”
My jaw clenched. Hard. I turned off the TV. His dark brown eyes held mine, searching. Even though I understood more than he’d ever know, I said nothing.
“I know you were under Sean’s control. I know you weren’t fighting me because you wanted to.”
“That’s a lie.”
You don’t know anything. You don’t know what you took from me.
He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. I looked out the window, trying to bite back the truth. I fought him because I wanted him dead. For Connor. But I stopped because… I wish I remembered, but I knew it was for Soraya. I’d been willing to let my brother’s murderer live for her sake.
“What do you mean?”
Fuck. All I wanted to do was confront him about Connor, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I’d risk them all finding out that Callum was Connor before they helped me reach Sean.
“Fightin’ was all I knew. Killin’ was all I was good for. I didn’t want or feel anythin’.”
“If that were true,” he said, studying my face. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”
I rolled my tongue over my teeth, shaking my head.
“Was it because of Soraya?”
I tensed at the mention of her. He noticed, cocking his head.
“According to her, you saved her life multiple times. You fought to protect her from Sean. You must have felt something for her.”
“Thanks to you,” I growled, turning my head towards him. “I don’t remember.”
He licked his lips, nodded, and said, “Again. Sorry for that.”
“You done? Or do you have more apologies to make?”
He smirked. “I’m done. You can tell me to go fuck myself now.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
He saluted and turned towards the door with a smile. The arrogant prick had somehow come in uninvited, apologised for trying to kill me, defended his actions, irritated the fuck out of me, and still had the audacity to leave, looking pleased with how it had gone.
He stopped, hand on the door handle, and glanced back at me. “We leave for Belgium at six in the morning.”
I stared at him. “We?”
“We,” he grinned. “You. Me. Together. Killing Sean. It’ll be lovely.”
I set my beer down on the table and stood up. “I’m goin’ with Giovanni.”
“Change of plan. He’s staying behind. I offered to go instead.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to be there. Sean had Aria’s mother killed, tried to kidnap my wife, tried to destroy me in the process, and took my sister.”
That’s when I saw it in his eyes. Beneath the jokes, the cocky exterior, and the designer clothes lay the lethal hatred I knew too well.
“McKenna is mine to kill,” I growled.
He raised his hands. “Just want to be your cheerleader. I promise I’ll have your back tomorrow, not try to stab it.”
It was his back he should be more concerned about.