Chapter 16 Allegra
ALLEGRA
Time passes. The house is silent. I’m locked in Cassian’s bedroom pacing, trying to make sense of what’s happening.
Rami is here. In the same house as me.
I finally make myself sit on the floor pressing my back to the bed and push my hands into my hair. What if he tells him? What if he tells him what I did?
Fuck. I need to think. I need to fucking think. I shouldn’t have let Cassian go down there without me. I should have gone with him. I should have taken Enzo’s gun and killed Rami before he could say a word.
What if he tells Cassian what I did?
I force a deep breath in. I need to calm down.
Footsteps sound outside the door. I jump to my feet as the lock is turned, the door opened. I don’t know what I expect to see. It’s not this, though. Not Cassian shirtless and bloody and looking a fucking wreck.
The sight of him makes me stop. It’s not just the wild look about him. It’s what’s in his eyes. Like for the first time in the time I’ve known him, he’s caught off guard. Like he didn’t expect what he got.
I know why.
He knows. Rami told him and he knows.
I drop my head, unable to bear his gaze. I’m too ashamed.
“Look at me.”
He has two things in his hands. A gun casually held by his thigh. In the other is his shirt. It’s stained blood red.
I look at that and his words come back to me. His promise. In pieces.
Cassian closes the door.
“Look at me, Allegra.”
I’m slow to drag my gaze back up to his. His expression hasn’t changed. He looks wild. Like a beast.
He knows. There is no doubt.
“He’s a liar,” I say, cursing the tears that stream from my eyes. Always tears. Angry or hurt or terrified. Always fucking tears. I hate them. I fucking hate them so much. “You can’t believe anything he says.” My voice breaks. “He’s just a liar.”
Cassian comes to stand a few inches from me. He tosses the gun onto the bed. I close my eyes. I don’t want to. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him to see me. He brings his hand to my face, wrapping around the back of my neck, his thumb gentle on my cheek.
“Look at me, babygirl.”
I shake my head, suck in a breath as tears drop to the floor.
“Allegra.”
I finally do it. I have to. I turn my gaze up to his.
His eyes search mine, a furrow between his brows. Does he see my shame?
“Pieces,” Cassian says. He watches me as I watch what drops out of the bundle he’d made of his shirt. I knew, didn’t I? I knew. It still turns my stomach to see it. See them.
I count.
Eight.
Eight fingers.
“He’s a liar,” I try again, but we both know who the liar is here.
“He didn’t lie about this though, did he?” he asks, thumb and forefinger touching the ring finger of my left hand. “Your mother’s ring. That’s why you had it.”
Tears. More tears.
“That bastard made you do it with your mother’s bloody ring.”
I drop my head lower even as I feel myself moving toward him, closer to him, wishing I could disappear in him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.
I shake my head, tasting the salt of my tears. I look up at him. “I was too ashamed,” I manage.
Cassian wipes a tear from my face with his bloody hand then smears it down over my mouth, my throat. It’s Rami’s blood.
“Is he dead?” I ask.
“Dying.”
“Did it hurt?”
“It’s still hurting.”
I nod, my lip trembling, a strange acceptance of what is.
“I need to ask you something,” he says.
It’s hard to look at him, but I owe him this, don’t I?
“Did he have you?”
A sob.
“Allegra. Did any of them have you?”
I shake my head.
“Did Malek?”
“No.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault, you know that right? I wouldn’t blame you. Tell me if any of them—” He can’t finish. He forces a deep breath in, eyes anguished.
I shake my head again. “No, Cassian. I swear. Rami touched me, but he didn’t… rape me. And Malek, he tried, but he couldn’t. He tried, but then there was all that commotion.” I look away again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’m so weak.”
“Don’t look away from me,” he says, hands on my face, thumbs smearing tears across my cheeks. “Don’t ever look away from me. And don’t ever keep secrets from me no matter what, understand?”
It takes all I have to keep from looking down and I nod.
What did I expect from Cassian? Condemnation?
Disgust? I am damaged goods. I was damaged goods already when he took me.
He knew that. One look at my hand and he’d know.
One look inside my eyes and he’d know. Broken.
Irreparably damaged. The missing finger was just the outside.
Now? I can’t stand myself. “How can you stand to look at me?” My voice breaks on the words and Cassian hugs me violently to him.
“How can I ever look away from you?” he says, his voice raw. He kisses my forehead, and I cling to him.
“He brought in a priest,” I start, needing to confess this.
To tell him. Tell it all. “He brought in a priest, and he made him watch when he cut off—” my voice breaks and I need a minute.
“The poor man threw up.” I’m crying again.
Fuck. I’m crying again. “And then he made him marry us. And I couldn’t…
I don’t want to be his, Cassian. I’m yours. I’m yours. I belong to you.”
“You are not his, Allegra,” Cassian says, kissing me, his mouth hard against mine.
Nothing erotic in this. No love making. No fucking to get off.
“You were never his. Not for a single moment, not even one.” He pushes me onto the bed, his weight heavy on top of me, making it hard to breathe.
He continues kissing me and I kiss him and he’s pushing my dress aside and unzipping his jeans.
When I taste the copper of blood my stomach turns, but we don’t stop. We both need this.
When he pushes into me it’s a furious thrust. I’m not ready and it hurts, but maybe I need to hurt. Maybe he needs it too.
He thrusts again and when I try to kiss him, he draws back, gripping my jaw instead, eyes locked on mine.
“You are not his.” He repeats it like a mantra, each thrust driving the point home. Each thrust forcing the breath from me.
We’re not making love, but it’s not love making I want.
He’s taking me back. Claiming me as his again. That’s what this is. And I want to be claimed by him because maybe in that claiming, maybe in this violent fucking, I will be cleansed. Forgiven.
Maybe, I will belong to Cassian again.
Fresh tears roll down my temples. I am married to Malek Lombardi. I’m married to fucking Malek Lombardi because I’m a coward. A fucking coward. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself so much.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, touching his face, wiping away the smear of blood. “I’m so sorry.”
He fucks me harder, cock thick inside me, too big, too painful and growing still. When he finally throbs his release, I don’t think he takes any pleasure in it. Not this time. He stills inside me, our breaths pants and he cups my face, thumbs wiping away tears, leaving blood smears behind.
“I’m going to make a widow out of you, Allegra,” he says. “I’m going to kill Malek Lombardi with my bare hands and make a widow out of you.”