AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How is he dangerous?” I ask again, fighting the pull of sleep.
“Orlando De Luca?”
I nod.
“He’s the only man Nico fears.”
The name registers, and for the first time, another piece of the puzzle clicks into place. “De Luca. Isn’t he your ex-girlfriend’s, er, ex-fiancée’s father?”
Dante’s arm tightens around me, his voice taking on an edge. “Alina is not my ex-anything. And you may want to stop calling her that, seeing as she’s going to be my sister-in-law very soon.”
It takes me a moment to process this information through the growing haze of the morphine. “Oh,” I say finally. “So you’re on board with the idea. I thought you said I was delirious.”
“You’re not delirious. Just in shock.” Dante murmurs against my neck, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear in the confined space of the van. “Speaking of shock . . .” he pauses, and I know he’s weighing his next words. “Benjamin O’Shea.”
I inhale sharply, and the scent of leather and Dante fills my nostrils. For a moment, I’m back in that room, watching Benjamin crumple to the floor.
“He was shot right in front of me,” I say, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.
Dante’s hand finds mine, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my skin. “How do you feel about it?”
I consider the question, probing at the emptiness inside me. “Numb. Shocked. Terrified,” I admit finally. “I suppose it’ll hit me in a few days. But right now . . .”
I trail off, searching for the right words while Dante patiently waits. He’s almost unnaturally still. Dante isn’t accustomed to waiting for people to find their words. Yet he remains motionless, softly stroking my hand.
Finally, I say, “Right now, he’s just the man who sold me to a hideously vile monster in exchange for an army.”
As I speak, I feel a coldness settling in my chest. It’s not grief, not yet. Just a hollow acknowledgment of the truth that eluded me for years.
Dante nods slowly, his steely eyes studying my face, and I wonder what he sees there.
“Are you okay though?” he asks softly. His free hand comes up to trace the ball of my injured shoulder, and I lean into his touch, craving more. “Is there anything else I should know about?”
“Anything else like?” I ask, a bit puzzled by his tone.
Dante’s voice takes on a dangerous edge, reminding me of the ruthless man beneath the gentle exterior. “Like if I need to paint the streets of Philadelphia with blood?”
His words send a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and something else I’m not ready to name.
I understand his unspoken question and I feel a flood of relief because Dante would do exactly that if Sean Hall had really hurt me. I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m okay. I mean we fought and I kicked his ass. Eventually. Only, I threw out my shoulder stabbing him from an awkward angle.”
Silence.
“Okay, No, he didn’t rape me,” I admit.
Dante releases a pent-up breath.
“But there were . . . other women there. They’re not just house staff.”
“He traffics women on the side.” Dante watches me for a bit then declares, “I’ll see that they’re all set free when we return for a thorough cleanup.”
I think I know what Dante means by cleaning up. “Really?”
He sighs dramatically. “Well, you started a war when you drew first blood and killed their leader. There’s bound to be sympathizers crawling out of the woodwork, so I’m going to have to finish it, aren’t I?”
I raise my still trembling hand up between us, considering the weight of what I’ve done. “I can’t believe I did that to Sean. I suppose I should blame you, Dante. You’re the one who taught me how to kill.”
He flashes me a grin. “Oh, I take complete ownership of both the crime and the criminal. But, tell me, how did it feel?” he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper. “In the moment?”
