Page 82 of The Wrong Mafia Bride
"I should have been there," I gasp out between sobs, my voice broken and barely recognizable. "I should have—I could have?—"
"No," Gabriel says firmly, his arms tightening around me. "No, Bella. Do not do that. Do not blame yourself."
"I am his guard," I choke out. "I was supposed to protect—I should have been protecting him, not?—"
"You were protecting Erin," Luca interrupts, and his voice is gentle but unyielding. "That is what he asked you to do. That is what he wanted."
But it doesn’t matter what he wanted because he is dead and I was not there and nothing will ever make that okay.
I hear footsteps—heavy, running—and then Dante's voice, sharp with concern. "What happened? Gabriel, Luca, what the fuck?—"
He stops. I can’t see him, but I can feel the moment he takes in the scene—me on the floor between Gabriel and Luca, the phone abandoned nearby, my entire body shaking with sobs I cannot control.
"Rosalina," Dante says, and he is beside us in an instant, dropping to his knees on the hard tile. His hand finds my face, turning me toward him, and I see his expression shift from concern to devastation when he sees whatever is written on my face. "Flower, what happened? Are you hurt?"
I can’t answer. Cannot form words past the sobs still tearing through me.
"Seamus O'Connor is dead," Gabriel says quietly, his voice tight. "Killed this morning. That was Margaret on the phone."
Dante goes very still, his hand frozen against my cheek.
Then he is pulling me from Gabriel's arms into his own, gathering me against his chest and holding me so tightly I can barely breathe, but I don’t care because breathing hurts and existing hurts and everything hurts.
"I am sorry," Dante murmurs into my hair, his voice rough with emotion. "God, Rosalina, I am so sorry."
I cry until I have nothing left, until my throat is raw and my eyes are swollen and my entire body aches from the force of it. I cry for Seamus, for the father I lost, for the life I had that is gone now. I cry for Erin, who doesn’t know yet, who is on a farm in Texas thinking she is safe and free. I cry for Margaret and all the people at the O'Connor estate who loved him.
And I cry for myself, for the girl who thought she could have it all—love and happiness and a fresh start—without paying for it somehow.
Because this is the payment. This is the cost of choosing myself over duty.
Seamus is dead and I was not there.
Eventually, the sobs fade to hiccupping breaths, and then to silence. I stay curled in Dante's arms with Luca and Gabriel pressed close on either side, and I stare at nothing, feeling hollow and scraped raw.
"What do you need?" Dante asks finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you need and I will get it for you."
I don’t answer for a long moment because I don’t know what I need, don’t know if there is anything that could possibly fill this enormous hole that has opened up inside me.
"Erin," I finally manage, my voice hoarse and broken. "I need to call Erin. She doesn’t know yet. She needs to—I have to tell her."
"Okay," Dante says immediately. "Okay, we will get you the phone and you can call her."
"And I need—" My voice cracks. "I need to go home. To the estate. For the funeral. I need to?—"
"We will take you," Gabriel says, and there is no question in his voice, no hesitation. "Whenever you are ready. We will all go with you."
"You do not have to?—"
"We are going," Luca says firmly, his hand finding mine and squeezing. "You are not doing this alone, Lina. Not a chance."
I close my eyes, fresh tears leaking from beneath my lids, but these are different. Not grief, exactly. Gratitude, maybe. Relief that I do not have to face this alone.
"Okay," I whisper. "Okay."
Dante presses a kiss to my forehead, long and gentle. "We have got you, Flower. Whatever you need, however long it takes. We have got you."
And sitting there on the kitchen floor, surrounded by three men who have somehow become essential to my existence in the span of two months, I let myself believe him.
