Dear God, don’t let him be dead.
Don’t let her family be killed because of her failure to protect them.
A sob raked her throat. “Goddammit, I said stop this fucking car!”
He slowed the growling sports car and eased off the empty highway to the shoulder. As soon as the vehicle stopped, she leaped out. She paused only long enough to toss her high heels into the grass, then started running the opposite way on the rough gravel that edged the pavement.
Ettore’s curse exploded behind her. “What the hell are you doing?”
He caught up to her instantly, gifted with Breed genetics that made him faster than any other creature on the planet. He blocked her path, his big male body filling her vision and all of her senses. When she tried to dodge him, his hands came down firmly on her shoulders, holding her still.
“Talk to me, Arabella. Tell me what this is about.”
“My family.” She couldn’t contain the shiver that rocked her when she thought about what they might be enduring because of her, possibly at this very moment. “Massioni promised me that if anything ever happened to him, he’d have them killed.”
Ettore’s scowl deepened. “Your father might have something to say about that. Your brother, Consalvo, too.”
She gazed up at him, shaking her head in misery. “My father’s dead. So is Sal. I guess you didn’t know. How would you, right? You left and never looked back.”
He flinched as if her words stung as much as a slap. Yet when he spoke, there was only quiet, patient concern in his deep voice. “What happened?”
“It was Sal,” she said, still wounded by her brother’s fall from grace—and the betrayal that followed. “Three years ago, my father made the mistake of turning over the vineyard to Sal. Things didn’t go very well. He was careless with the books. Worse than careless. None of us realized how deeply in debt the business was—or why—until Sal’s mate, Chiara, confided in me about his gambling. She was worried for him, and for the future of their infant son. But it was already too late. Sal got mixed up with bad people, the worst of them being Vito Massioni.”
Ettore blew out a sharp curse. “The idiot. Sallie owed him money?”
“A lot of money. More than any of us could pay. By the time we learned what he’d done, Massioni was out of patience. He tortured Sal, nearly killed him.” Bella took a fortifying breath. “My brother was scared and desperate, in fear for his life. He couldn’t have been thinking clearly… At least, that’s what I’ve had to tell myself in order to forgive him for what he did to me.”
She watched Ettore’s eyes darken with grave understanding. “Your brother is the reason you’re with Massioni?”
She nodded. “Vito showed up at our Darkhaven one night, along with a dozen armed men. He wasn’t there to negotiate. The men shot my father in front of all of us. Sal was going to be next. He made all kinds of promises, offered to give Massioni the house, the vineyard—everything he could think of. None of it appealed to Vito, of course. He had plenty of property, plenty of money. Then Sal looked at me.”
“No.” Ettore’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Jesus, he didn’t.”
Bella swallowed. “Sal told him about my gift for scrying. He told Massioni to imagine how much richer he could be if he had the ability to see the future. Sal promised that I was worth ten times as much as the debt he owed. In the end, I’m sure he was right. Massioni took me away that night, after giving his men the order to kill Sal.”
Ettore’s eyes were no longer dark, but crackling with shards of amber that ignited with his rage. As he spoke, the tips of his fangs glinted bright white behind his lips. “That cowardly son of a bitch. If your brother were alive right now, I’d fucking kill him myself.” He reached up to touch her face and she could feel the power of his fury beneath the tenderness of his fingers.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I did what I had to in order to survive. Chiara and my little nephew are what matter most to me. They’re the reason I stayed with Massioni. He held their lives ransom to make sure I never crossed him or tried to get away.”
“Well, he can’t hurt anyone now,” Ettore said. “As of tonight, Vito Massioni’s either dead or damned close to it.”
“No. You don’t understand.” She stepped back, shaking her head. She wished she could stand there all night under the warmth of his caress, but her dread was only intensifying by the moment. “You don’t realize what you’ve done, Ettore. He gave instructions to his entire criminal network to hunt down Chiara and Pietro if anything ever happened to him. If he’s dead, so are they. Or they will be soon.”
Ettore studied her for a moment before hissing a tight curse. “Your brother’s widow and her boy—are they still at the vineyard?”
She nodded.
“Fuck. That’s three hours in the other direction.” He stared at her, grim but resolute. “If we push it, the Pagani should get us there in under two.”
“Does that mean you’ll help me?”
“To my last breath, Arabella.” He cupped her face in his strong palm, his eyes blazing with determination and something deeper. Something that lit a dormant hope in her chest and made her veins tingle with heat.
She knew he felt the same kindling of emotion too. It was there in his glittering eyes, and in the lengthening points of his fangs.
He may have abandoned her without explanation a decade ago, but all of the attraction and need that had existed between them was still there. Still burning inside both of them.
“Come on,” he said after a long moment, his voice rough. “We’d better go.”