There’s an engraving on the blade that readsSiempre te tengoand I let my finger slowly graze over it. I don’t know what it means, but a warm feeling softens the tightness in my chest as I read it. The handle holds a green gem that, oddly, matches the emerald of my eyes.
Could this have been mine before the injury? If it is—is Elio hiding it from me or is he keeping it safe until I remember? Probably neither. What could something like this dagger mean to someone like me? I’m only a mafia princess.
Reluctantly, I replace the dagger where I found it, picking up the file to make sure I leave without it looking like someone has been in here messing with Elio’s things. The nameBrenneris labeled on the file, and I stare at it a moment before deciding it wasn’t worth looking into further. The file was on top of the dagger, maybe it belongs to the family with that surname.
“It’s time for your medicine,principessa,“ Elio says in a low voice from behind me. I squeak and spin around grabbing my chest in case my heart decides it wants to exit my body the way it’s beating.
“Jesus, you scared me,” I say breathily.
Elio’s lips thin as his feet eat up the ground while he closes the distance between us. He cages me against his desk and leans down so his lips are only a hair’s breadth from mine. His hand comes up to cup my jaw and I flinch instinctively at his touch, both of us surprised by my reaction. What the hell?
Elio tilts his head and scans my face.
“Are you alright,bella?“ he asks.
“No,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
I clear my throat.
“Your dagger is beautiful.”
His gaze drops to the blade on the desk behind me, then snaps back to mine.
“I think I like my view better.”
Elio wraps his free arm around my lower back and pulls me closer, the hand that was cupping my jaw sliding to cradle the back of my head. I stiffen, unsure what is happening since he’s been doing everything to avoid me for days and now he’s acting like nothing’s happened.
“I don’t like this,” he says, dropping his forehead against mine. “I miss you.”
I nearly choke on a laugh, but I swallow it down, knowing better than to stir the pot with him when he’s already upset with me.
“I never want you to feel like you can’t be safe with me,bella,“ he continues, brushing his lips against mine. “We can rule the world together, you and I. No one will be able to touch us. No one will be able to take you away from me. Our children will be gods of the underground. I want that. Your safety and your forever. I’m sorry.”
I nod, silently accepting his apology.
“I still want to wait until our wedding night,” I say, pulling back from his hold to look him in the eyes.
His lips purse, showing his disapproval, but he quickly shakes it off and dips his chin.
“Anything for you,” Elio says, dropping his head down to the crook of my neck and kissing my bare skin.
“I need my medicine,” I remind him, and he pulls back to look at me. “You said it was time.”
Elio looks at me for a short moment, then his hands drop from my body, and one dives into his pocket. My body sags in relief when I see him pull out the vial and syringe.
22
Liam
Thenicotineburnsmythroat as I take another drag on the cigarette. Staring out toward the woods without really seeing anything, I inhale the toxins again, chasing the feeling of ease it’s not bringing me.
I rarely smoked cigarettes before, only here and there, and mostly in social settings or when I drank—which happened to be a lot, now that I think about it. The habit has become an addiction that might be a bitch to kick later, but I can’t be worried about lung cancer when half my soul is fucking missing.
I keep finding myself in places where I spent time with Malia. Like now, on the terrace, right where I fucked her while she hung over the ledge. Thinking about that time and how I declared war on her, it seems like some fucked-up dream now. The majority of the time we’ve known each other, I’ve done nothing but chase, chase, chase, and chase. Even now. Only, for the first time, she’s not running. But I’m still stuck in the endless cycle of hunting.
My phone rings in my pocket and I ignore it, pushing the button on the side to silently tell whoever that is to fuck off. Almost immediately it starts to ring again, and I pause, flicking my cigarette into the abyss of the night and realizing it could be about Malia.
Fishing it out of my pocket, I look down at the screen and see Donovan’s name lit up. Malia’s brother has been the only one in my corner lately, especially when his best friend is being his usual bitch self. I don’t know if it’s more for my benefit or Breckin’s, but it is what it is. I’m not sure if second-guessing the Olin’s trust is going to last until the day I die but, knowing me, I’ll hold onto that bit of distrust like my life depends on it. Because it very well might.