Page 114 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

Every time she thought of the sun going down, shethought about a dark, cold parking lot and hands around her throat. She heardher cries for help and the husky laughter mocking her before a fist rammed herface. She could taste the blood in her mouth and smell it in the air.

She was right back there in that moment, curled on theground, being beaten to death by someone she didn’t even know, and totallyhelpless.

Emma let out a slow breath, willing her anxiety away.

“You all right?” Calisto asked.

She kept a safe, appropriate distance from his side asthey walked up the front steps of the Donati home. People were watching them,after all. Enforcers guarding the house, and even cops, since the attack hadbrought with it the attention of the officials.

“I just want to be home,” Emma said softly.

The house she lived in with Affonso hadn’t exactlyfelt like home for her before, but at the moment it was the closest thing shehad. Three days after she was admitted into the hospital, the doctors signedher papers to leave.

Calisto’s hand met the middle of her back and rubbedgently. “Few more steps, bella.”

Emma smiled, but it faded when Calisto dropped hishand to search for the house keys in his pocket. Confused, Emma waited as heunlocked the door and opened it to what seemed to be a quiet, dark house.

Licking her split lip, Emma ignored the bite of painthat went along with it. “Where is Affonso?”

Not once had her husband come to the hospital to visither. He didn’t even send a message, and the phone in her room never rang with acall. She assumed he was at home, working on figuring out who it was that hadattacked her.

Emma had asked Calisto where Affonso was, but he neverhad an answer. That, or he avoided the question.

It wasn’t that Emma needed or wanted Affonso, but shethought he would at least show some concern for her. She had been left fordead, and it was probably because of him or his business.

Yet, she got nothing.

Calisto cleared his throat, and nodded toward theopened door. Emma shot a glance over her shoulder, seeing two men leaningagainst a black car parked at the end of the long driveway. She recognized themas Affonso’s men.

Obviously, Calisto didn’t want to have thisconversation outside. Emma followed him into the house, taking her stepsslowly. She hadn’t suffered any broken bones or cracked ribs in the attack,thankfully, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t sore. Her lower half had taken afew hits and they’d left bruises behind that were tender to the touch.

She was sure that had been intentional.

The beating was bad, but her attacker seemed to knowwhat he was doing. It was almost as if he knew just the right spots to hit herthat would cause damage, but not enough to be serious. He knew the right placesto hit that would leave bruises, but not broken bones.

He’d made her bleed, swelled her face, and injuredher, but he didn’t kill her.

The man—whoever he was—had killed her enforcer.

She watched when the man shot Carter.

If he had wanted her dead, she would have been.

Her beating and the way it turned out was intentional.

Once Emma was inside the house, Calisto closed thefront door behind them. He helped her out of her jacket and sneakers, beforeputting her things away. He did it all without even asking her if she wantedhim to. Just like how he didn’t leave her side at the hospital unless heabsolutely had to. It helped her more than she could explain just to wake upand see Calisto there.

It made her adore him even more.

It didn’t matter how wrong it was.

Calisto was right for her.

“You’re avoiding what I asked before we came in,” Emmasaid.

Calisto sighed, and faced her. His hand cupped herjaw, and his thumb swept her jawline. She knew he was surveying her bruisedface, and taking inventory. For every mark that had been left on her body, hewas going to make someone answer for them.

Emma didn’t have to ask to know.