Page 48 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
“She’s already gone.”
“No wonder that family is almost wiped out. They’re so predictable.”
I pick up my pacing again. “She could have killed me and saved herself a lot of trouble.”
“Well she didn’t, and she made her choice. Again. It’s time you let it go. We need you here. The Elite have all but halted Nero’s trade through the city.”
I sigh. “I can’t ‘let it go,’ and you don’t need me. The Elite have been causing issues for months.”
“How long do you think they’ll simply play with us, Sasha? You know them.”
Logic would dictate that they’re simply building to one big attack. Mine and Una’s very existence is a torch of rebellion in their eyes. We represent anarchy, a catastrophic failure of the system they hold so dear.
“You need to come back here and help us handle this. No one knows them like us.”
Why must everything always be so complicated? “I can’t. I have to kill Bianchi. I owe Adelina that much.”
“Are you serious? You don’t owe that girl a damn thing, Sasha. How many times does she have to walk away from you? How many times is she going to fuck you over?”
I clench my jaw but say nothing because no amount of explanation will ever make her understand. She sees what she wants where Adelina is concerned.
“I know you don’t have much experience with this, but this—what she’s doing—it’s not love.”
“Una, this isn’t up for debate.”
“So, you would help her before me?”
I snap, my temper spiking. “You have an entire mafia around you! She has no one.” A pent-up breath catches in my lungs. “And neither do I.”
“You have me,” she says quietly. “You’re like my brother.”
“And you are as a sister to me, but I have nothing that doesn’t involve you, Una. Adelina is mine. I love her,” I breathe. “Just…let me have something of my own. Let me fight for her the same way you fought for Nero.”
There’s a long beat of silence that stretches on and on, and I almost expect her to hang up. “What do you need?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.
“I need to be dead, at least as far as Bianchi is concerned. What would you do if Adelina had killed me and run back to him?”
She snorts, and I can picture the twisted smile on her face. “Consider it done.”
“As soon as she is free of him, I’ll come back.”
She hangs up, and I clutch the phone in my hand. I know Una will sell my death, no doubt threatening to rain down hell on both of them. I just need Bianchi to believe that Adelina is on his side because if he doesn’t… I feel sick thinking about what he will undoubtedly do to her. Irrational anger simmers beneath my skin, tainting clear thought. I should have killed him a long time ago. I had a perfect opportunity at the wedding, but she was so adamant that she wanted to be the one to do it, and I let her have that. I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t know how to handle the situation: her and me. She needed revenge, and I felt so guilty because her father’s death was my doing. I thought I at least owed her that much—Enrique’s blood. I realize now, I owed her life. I owed her father his daughter’s safety, not this.
I pour another glass of whiskey and bring it halfway to my lips when I hear the side door to the kitchen crash against the wall. There’s a shout, more like an anguished cry, and it sounds so pained that my heart immediately leaps into a sprint. Adelina—it’s all I can think as I stride the short distance to the kitchen. When I round the doorway, all I see is a crowd of men, guards mainly, gathered around a single spot near the kitchen door. I shove them out of the way and see long, dark hair, and blood, so much blood. No, no, no.
I push through the men and see Gabriella’s lifeless body. My first reaction is sheer relief that it’s not Adelina. Her throat is slit from ear to ear, and dried blood cakes everything. Aside from the blood though, she looks almost peaceful, her golden skin now washed white in rest. It’s not Adelina, but it’s definitely a message. And Adelina is not safe.
Lorenzo is on his knees on the floor, his face clutched in his hands as heavy sobs wrack his large frame.
“Where is Adelina?” I ask him, my voice cracking.
He just shakes his head, so I grab his shoulder, forcing him to acknowledge me.
“Where is Adelina?” I repeat, almost shouting.
“With him.” He spits the word on a snarl before he drops his head and cries once more.
I know he saw Gabriella as a daughter of sorts, especially since the death of her actual father, and his grief is palpable. Mumbled prayers slip past his lips, and I wonder if his faith helps him to justify this violence somehow. I can only imagine Adelina’s pain, how broken she will be at the loss of her sister. I want to drive to that Villa and destroy the entire house. I’d burn it to the ground if Adelina weren’t inside it.
