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“No.” A tear slips free, and I’m back with Nunzio again—the smell of his sweat and cologne mixed with liquor. The feel of his hands all over me, his teeth biting at my flesh, his cock spearing into me with a brutal thrust. God, he’s everywhere.
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my palms into them until tears leak from the corners, leaving a stinging in their path down my face. I draw deep breaths, holding them as long as possible so the nausea can pass, but nothing works. Nothing makes the savage thoughts easier to bear.
Realization slams into me like a freight train. Nunzio is watching. Even in hiding, he’s watching. How?
I launch up and pull my phone from my jeans pocket. Jesus Christ, is he…my phone?
“This is not happening,” I mutter to myself as I start to pace, glancing at the devil’s note lying on the bed—the bed I share with my husband. The fear and the panic that tiny piece of paper stirs is like having a ticking time bomb lodged in my gut, about to explode at any moment.
A clammy chill spreads across my skin, my mind spinning with a million thoughts. To think I was worried about Nicoli finding out before I got a chance to do the test, yet Nunzio knew the moment I hung up my phone. It’s like my life has become a sinking bridge of irony, and the more I try to keep it from collapsing, the heavier it gets—the more cracks threaten to bring the entire foundation down in one heap of destruction. Just when things finally seem to return to normal between Nicoli and me, Nunzio manages to fuck it up from the cave he’s hiding in.
Anger replaces fear, white-hot and violent. He’s not close, yet he finds a way to screw with my head. It’s like he’s everywhere, like he’s in my blood and there’s no way I can escape him.
With a snarl, I grab the paper and crumple the note in my fist. The urge to destroy something, anything, is overwhelming, and every emotion slams together in one giant explosion of chaos. I’m panting, my heart pounding when I weave my fingers through my hair, trying to fight the mayhem threatening to possess me. Not once did it cross my mind that Nunzio would make contact, that he’d be stupid enough.
I let out a bitter laugh that’s replaced with a cry of rage as I grab a vase of roses from the side table and hurl it at the wall. It shatters on impact, water and porcelain shards exploding across the room, red roses smashing into chaos around it. A sharp pain slices through the anger and I glance down to find a jagged piece of porcelain embedded in my forearm, blood welling around it.
I just stare at the wound for a second, mesmerized by the crimson droplets sliding down my arm, triggering flashes of my hands covered in blood. Then the sting registers and I grit my teeth against it.
I sink down on the edge of my bed, yanking the porcelain from my arm with a hiss. Blood drips onto the floor, the bright red tears escaping my flesh oddly satisfying. The pain seems to help ground me in the present, chasing away the ghosts that haunt my mind.
The bedroom door is flung open, and Leandra appears with a worried frown. “Are you okay? I heard a commotion—” She sees the bleeding wound on my arm. “Oh, my God, Mira. What happened?”
That’s the moment I can no longer keep myself from breaking as I let go of all my strength and allow the fear to consume me.
Leandra’s expression softens as she rushes over, kneeling beside me and grabbing a handful of tissues from the side table. She presses it gently against my arm, careful not to hurt me further.
“It’s okay,” she whispers soothingly. “I’ll get the first-aid kit, and we’ll get this cleaned up. Okay?”
“It’s not okay,” I choke out as I shake my head. “Nothing is going to be okay.”
“Mira, no,” she murmurs. “It’ll be okay. I swear.”
“No.” I let out a shaky breath as the tears flow freely down my face. It’s as if a dam has broken inside me, and all the emotions I’ve been holding back come crashing out.
I look up and into her eyes, seeing the sadness and worry reflect from her eyes, and I say the only thing I can say.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
ChapterEight
NICOLI
The dank, dimly lit room reeks of blood and fear. It took me all but five minutes to decide that the first guy Maximo dragged in here didn’t know shit, which meant I had no use for him. Hence, his corpse is propped up against the wall, his head hanging eerily to the side with a bullet wound through his chin, up his ugly goddamn face, and out the top of his skull.
Caelian repeatedly flicks the top of his Zippo as he stares at the dead body. “I can officially say that the wall has more brains than this motherfucker.” He snickers at his own wise-ass joke.
I turn to face Alexius. “Is he for real?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Hey,” Caelian snaps. “One of us has to have a sense of humor around here. Imagine if all of us were pitch-black-hearted assholes like you two.”
“Says the one who hunts women for a sport,” I bite back.
“Con-sen-sual,” he enunciates. “Not that you’ll know what it means.”
“Can we just get back to killing?” All three of us turn to face Isaia, who’s been spectating in the back corner of the room.
