Page 32 of Stay Little Fighter

I open my mouth to reply, to beg for him to let me go back to our wing and forget any of this happened, but I couldn’t get a word out even if I wanted to.

“Your existence becomes more and more irritating by the day, but between my sons and your naive father, they won’t let me rid the family of you.”

Swallowing heavily, I force a breath into my lungs as I fight to remain calm.

“But here you are. No one knows where you are. You’ve done the hardest part for me, and all I would have to do is put a bullet through your head and throw you over the wall for the gators to deal with. By the time anyone thinks to look around the property, you’d be long gone.”

I could scream, but what good is it going to do? No one is going to help me, no matter how innocent I am in this situation.

The only thing I’ve done wrong is love his son.

“Please,” I whisper.

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in the sound, only cruelty. “So weak. Just like my son when it comes to you. You make him soft in a world he can’t afford to be anything other than ruthless.”

I open my mouth to reply but quickly snap it shut again. It’s not like I can refute his claims when he’s right. Ronan is soft when it comes to me. He treats me like I’m his entire world, like I’m the sun in his sky, and denying it would be pointless.

I barely notice his hand moving before I’m shoved against the side of the house with his grip around my throat so tight I can barely suck in a breath.

Tears fall against my cheeks even as I curse myself for it. He’s right. I am weak. Years of training. Years of drills to ensure I could get away if I were ever cornered, and here I am. Frozen.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never actually faced danger like this, or maybe it’s the fact that I can’t fight without even harsher repercussions. No one is going to believe Salvatore threatened me, and if I happen to get a hit in, he’ll have reason to kill me without even having to hide it.

Stars blur my vision as he presses harder against my throat, cutting off my air supply.

Panic and acceptance wash over me at the same time. All the things I never got to do and everything I took for granted fill my mind as the darkness creeps closer, beckoning me.

“My son will be better off with you gone. He’ll see.” He’s not speaking to me anymore, instead musing to himself as he watches the light fade from my eyes.

I allow them to fall closed and my body to slump. Death will be more peaceful if I let it happen rather than fighting it.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself as my mind wanders to my final moments with Ronan. The way his fingers brushed through my hair, how his breath felt against my cheek as he laughed at something stupid I said. How his warmth brought a peace to my mind that nothing else has ever been able to.

If nothing else, at least I knew what it felt like to be loved.

Just as my mind begins to fade, Salvatore’s hold is torn from me, causing me to drop to my knees.

Agony burns through my lungs with every breath that forces its way in as my hands grip my throat. The feel of his hands is still there even if he’s not holding me anymore, and if by some miracle I survive, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop feeling his hands around my throat.

Swiping at the tears soaking my cheeks, I try to force my eyes open but I can’t see through the fog.

“Are you fucking crazy?” a familiar voice snaps. “You’ve hardly made your dislike for her a secret. Did you think that Neil wouldn’t catch on when they couldn’t find her? That Ronan wouldn’t realize you had something to do with it?”

“This is none of your business,” Salvatore argues.

“This is absolutely my business because something like this destroys a family, Dad.” Damon hasn’t sounded anything other than mean when I’ve been around for almost two years, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound quite so menacing.

I finally manage to force my eyes open, grateful for the clouds that cover the moon because the headache pressing between my eyes is almost unbearable.

Damon stands chest to chest with his father, rage vibrating through his every muscle and I can’t seem to take my eyes off him.

Maybe it’s because you should never take your eyes off the most dangerous person in the room, or perhaps it’s that he’s defending me after spending so much time pretending to hate me.

“She’s just a girl.”

“No. She’s your underboss’s daughter and the love of your son’s life. Whether you like it or not, you kill Chloe, and you’ll have a mutiny on your hands.”

“Only if you tell them,” he challenges.