“Tatum, are you okay?”
The ringing in my ears dissipated as my mind and vision became clearer, color and sound slowly returning.
“Tatum?”
He pulled me up, and my head spun, a throbbing ache pushing against my skull. I wiped my palms across my face, and when I opened my eyes, my vision now crystal clear, I saw that my hands were covered in crimson…blood.
My heart stopped.
I looked at Castello, who was crouching in front of me, dark eyes fixed on me with concern. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
“What…”
I caught sight of the gun in Castello’s hand then looked to the floor. There was Nicollo, with only half a face, lying in a pool of blood.
Oh my God.
I swallowed hard, bile pushing up the back of my throat.
“You shot him.” I looked up at Castello. “You killed your cousin.” I never thought I’d see the day where I would be thankful for someone’s head being blown off.
He took my hand in his. “Come on. We need to get you out of here.”
He helped me up, and the second I managed to straighten, I looked into his eyes. “Why did you come back?”
With a gentle touch, he tucked my hair behind my ear. “I came back because I was there.”
“Where?”
He held out a white sheet of paper. “Between those jumbled thoughts you needed to sort through. I was in there somewhere.”
I glanced down at the paper and saw the same image I had drawn on the other sheets…only this time there was a scar across the side of the man’s face, and one pupil was elongated in the shape of a teardrop.
Castello pointed to Italian writing at the bottom of the sheet.L’unico.
The one.
Chapter 22
CASTELLO
I had to come back.
Thank God I came back.
I was on my way to my bedroom when I accidentally dropped the sheets of paper that burned my fucking hand. The anger and rage that buzzed through my body was so strong, it surpassed the fury I felt when I found out my brother had been murdered. And I knew why. I knew why I was so consumed with intense indignation. Because my jealousy was fueling it.
When those sheets scattered around me, one of them caught my eye—the one Tatum was now clutching in her hand.
Her very last drawing was one of me, with my scar—L’unico.
That was the moment I realized there was no decision to be made. There never was. I had no fucking choice but to protect her, no questions asked.
I rushed back to her room only to find Nicollo on top of her, his cock in his hand, seconds away from claiming what was mine.
I reacted.
With nothing but red clouding my vision, I took out my gun, aimed…and pulled the fucking trigger. And God forgive me, but when Nicollo’s lifeless body fell limp, half of his fucking skull splattered against the wall, I savored the moment. This was justice. This was retaliation, vengeance, payback—and all because my actions protected something worth protecting.Her.