Matteo grabbed his phone and jumped out of the van. “I’ll call Gianna. She’ll rip me a new one if I don’t tell her we’re fine.”
So many people had worried for their loved ones who risked their life for me. I couldn’t imagine what Gianna and Isabella had gone through while Matteo fought against mad bikers to save me.
Dad picked up his phone. His expression told me he was calling Mom. “She’s safe,” he said first thing.
I could hear Mom’s shuddering sigh. Then Dad held the phone out to me. I took it with shaking fingers.
“Mom,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, Marci, I’m so happy to hear your voice. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms.”
“We’ll be home in about an hour,” Dad called.
“Hurry,” Mom said softly.
Dad wrapped his arm around my shoulder as he led me into the house, trying to hide his limp but it must have been bad if he couldn’t hide it even around Mom. And even Amo hovered close by as if I needed constant surveillance now. Some of the violence had left his expression but not all of it.
“Get a grip,” Dad murmured. “Your mom doesn’t need to see you like this.”
Amo nodded and briefly closed his eyes. I could see his face morphing to something gentler and more boyish, but it was an obvious struggle, and his eyes, when he opened them, still felt off.
The moment I stepped into the house, Mom jumped off the couch. Valerio was with her and so were my aunts Gianna and Liliana, and my cousins, Isabella, Flavio, Sara, and Inessa. Romero and Growl kept watch like Matteo had said. Mom rushed over to me and Dad finally released me, only for Mom to take his place.
Mom hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe. I winced when her palms brushed the fresh tattoo on my upper back. She pulled back with tear-filled eyes full of worry. Her gaze flitted over my ruined ear before she forced it back to my eyes. Her palm still lightly rested on the bandage over my back. “What happened to your back?”
I didn’t want to tell her. Not because I was ashamed. I wasn’t. I was furious and scared. Furious because Earl had done this to me and scared that I’d always have to carry his judgment of me on my skin. When I didn’t say anything, she looked to Dad. The man who’d slaughtered several bikers in an act of fury and strength looked tired in that moment. His guilt over what had happened to me was unmistakable in every line of his face, but worst of all in his eyes. Amo made sure to look anywhere but at Mom, which was probably for the best, considering he still had that madman gleam in his eyes.
I didn’t want to put the burden of telling Mom about the tattoo on Dad. She didn’t look at him as if she blamed him for what happened, but I still worried that their relationship had suffered because of my kidnapping. My parents were absolute relationship goals in my mind and the thought that something might change that was almost worse than what had happened to me in the last few weeks.
“They tattooed me,” I said, trying to sound blasé.
The color drained from Mom’s face and Dad’s lips tightened in an effort to restrain his fury for the men who’d done this to me.
Mom glanced at Dad questioningly, but she didn’t ask what the tattoo was.
“We’ll have it removed as soon as you feel up to it,” Dad said firmly. “I told the doc to make all necessary arrangements.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Valerio came up to me and hugged me too. “Next time I’ll kick biker ass too when they kidnap you.”
I choked on laughter. “I sure hope this was the last kidnapping, and you aren’t supposed to curse.”
He rolled his eyes and I tousled his blond mane before he could duck away. After more hugging from Gianna and Isabella, Aunt Liliana, Romero, and my cousins, I finally went upstairs, bone tired. I quickly excused myself, overwhelmed by the wave of emotions I felt.
Alone in my bedroom after the first shower in what felt like days, I peeled the bandage off my back and turned toward the long mirror. I sucked in a sharp breath. Maddox had told me what the tattoo said but seeing it with my own eyes still felt like a punch in the stomach.
The black letters looked almost smudged and were thin. They reminded me of tattoos that prisoners got behind bars. The words Vitiello whore glared back at me. They sat right between my shoulder blades below my neck. A whore stamp how Earl had called it. I swallowed once, then I turned away from the mirror. Once people found out about what went on between Maddox and me, I would hear the insult often.