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The hate she felt wasn’t for me.
It was for him, which made no sense, as she had told me back in the cell that he was a good man.
But she didn’t feel that way today.
She would be on her knees begging, if she could. Worshipping me like a god if it meant retreating from this place.
I stepped back, shadows from trees cloaking us, hiding us from view as Stefan stepped forward to draw the drapes. He paused, staring right at my car. But he couldn’t see it, as the lights went off when I killed the engine. The music playing wouldn’t be heard from the house.
I removed her fingers from the strands of hair wrapped around them, ready to remedy her stress. My own hand weaved through her hair, softening the places she fuzzed.
I kept moving back, drifting through the darkness with this woman acting as a second skin.
The drapes closed, and I didn’t hesitate to get us in the car, now that I could open the door and not have him see the internal light that wouldn’t turn off until I closed the door behind us.
She didn’t let go, a bundle of limbs and wet clothes in my lap. She shivered against me. I started the engine, blasting the heater to keep her warm. My hand traveled up her dress, rubbing the cold from her skin. Her fingers moved over me, from my chest to my face, where stubble pricked her skin.
My free hand moved to her face, too. Two fingers beneath her chin forced her gaze on me. She looked away from the questions in my eyes.
What’s wrong? What the fuck did he do?
I was combing through her wet hair with my fingers before realizing it. She didn’t relax, and I didn’t stop.
“Take me home. Your home. I don’t want to talk about it.” Her words were firm, confirmed by tight lips, flaring nostrils, and a million silent tears.
I tried peeling her from me to place her in the passenger seat, but the moment there was any kind of distance between us, even just an inch, she broke apart.
Sobs fell from her mouth, some caught in her chest, making her breaths sharp and painful. She curled in on herself, making herself smaller.
I didn’t fight her for a response. In truth, I didn’t want to hear it. I wasn’t ready. I also wasn’t ready to leave her here alone and upset while I ripped apart her scumbag father with nothing but sharp nails and teeth.
Because I knew.
Deep down, I fucking knew.
She would rather die than go home...and there were only so many things that could have made her feel that way.
I pulled her back in close, knowing what she needed at this moment. Me. Just like earlier. And knowing that I could come back to end this son of a bitch at any time.
And I would be back.
Minutes became an hour before I lifted her from my lap to the passenger seat and ensured her seatbelt was on for safety.
I put the car into drive and coasted down the everlasting driveway, turning the headlights on as we slipped out of view of the house.
The journey home was shorter than it should have been. Our hands were joined in her lap the whole way.
We sped down quiet dirt roads as my mind raced with thoughts of all the ways I could end Stefan.
And not one of them was fucking good enough.
Chapter 24
Feebee
Mercer carried me inside the house, the fading aroma of Nonna’s cooking welcoming us home. She was already in bed, the house in darkness. He flicked a light switch, and the room brightened up to show me Damiano was gone, along with all the blood.
I didn’t ask or care how.
