22. Liliana

Chapter 22

Liliana

T he next week, I was in a fog, a bubble of going to work and coming back home. I didn't go anywhere aside from places like the store or laundry mat, and, instead, sequestered myself away like a hermit.

I'd created a self-imposed prison.

It was a monotonous life, and the longer it went on, the more I hated it. The last month had made me feel as if I were living in someone else's life, walking in their shoes, trapped within them, and able to see everything. And through it all, I couldn't react.

It was a Saturday night when I clocked out and headed home, my purse slung over my shoulder, my hand in the bag.

Although I still had the knife with me, I also had pepper spray, my finger pressed over the nozzle just in case and always at the ready.

Nobody really bothered me, not aside from that one college douchebag. But I hadn't seen him since. I'd stayed away from the pub after that incident, but being cautious meant little.

The streets were busy for the weekend, college kids milling around, older people enjoying their drinks on the outside patios at the little, chic bars.

I glanced at the street to see cars passing. A dark SUV with tinted-out windows caught my attention. There wasn't anything special about it. It looked like any other vehicle that I saw. But as I stared at it, I felt this strange tingling in the pit of my belly.

My mind instantly went to Matteo. I wanted so badly to believe it was him. Foolish, stupid girl , my mind whispered.

Wanting to play with fire even though I knew I'd get burned was apparently a new trend with me.

I rounded the corner and glanced over my shoulder at that SUV once more. I swore I felt the driver watching me even if I couldn't see through the dark windows.

When I faced forward once more, I ran into somebody so hard I stumbled back and had to brace a hand on the building beside me. He cursed out a juicy and lewd comment.

"The fuck. Watch where you're going." His voice was deep and raspy, a little lazy because it was clear he'd been drinking.

I only gave him one quick look before mumbling an apology and continuing to walk.

Fuck this. I was going to move to the mountains. I'd find a little cabin in the middle of nowhere. If I was going to feel alone amongst crowds of people, I might as well feel the same way by myself without these fuckers invading my space.

Go to Matteo, my mind whispered. Demand he be honest with himself and you.

I was making a change tomorrow. Fuck this place. I'd pack up my bag, head to the bus station, and pick a city far away. And when I got there, I'd do the same thing. I wouldn't stop until I was in the middle of nowhere.

Coming up on my building, I was suddenly pushed from behind. I stumbled and fell to my knees, my hands landing hard on the ground, the heels of my palms getting scraped up.

"Oh shit," the slurred, masculine voice said from behind me.

I was about to pull myself up, but his hands on my waist propelled the action so I had no choice to do it on my own.

"I'm sorry." He laughed.

I shoved myself away from him, looking down at my skinned palms, and hissed out when I felt the sting of them when I ran them down my jeans.

"It's fine." I went to leave when he grabbed my arm.

"Hey." His hand tightened on my wrist, and I grimaced.

"Let go." I pulled on my arm, but his hold was like a vise.

He let go but moved forward so I was forced to step back. I realized we were now in the side alley in between a closed bakery and car dealership.

"I think I've seen you before." He was grinning, all sweaty and smelling of beer. "Yeah." He pointed to me, his smile widening. "You work down the street. At that fifties diner, yeah?"

"I have to go." I went to move around him but he stepped forward, crowding me so I moved back again, the brick of the wall forcing me to stay in place.

Something changed in his expression the longer he stared at me.

Heart slamming hard in my chest, I kept my focus on him as I reached in my bag and curled my hand around the first thing I felt. The knife.

My flight-or-fight instinct kicked into gear. But more importantly… my strength rose.

"I bet you smell good." He leaned in. "I bet you feel even better between those long legs." He pressed his body against me, his erection thick and threatening.

Fuck. No.

"Come on," he murmured, his hot breath in my face. "We're alone. I'll be fast. It'll be over with before you even know it." He reached down to pull himself out of his jeans, but I didn't let him get that far.

I had the knife out, but he saw it and curled his lip, swinging out with his fist. His knuckle clipped my chin, but he was too drunk that it barely skimmed me. I knew if he had the opportunity, he would knock me the hell out.

I swung out, but I didn't know if I'd connected. It was only when I felt the spray of blood covering my face and neck that my breath stalled in my chest, and I was frozen in place.

I felt those droplets dripping down my cheeks and chin, that slippery fluid slowly turning sticky as it covered my fingers and wrists.

I felt my eyes widen in shock at the massive gash on the side of his throat. He placed his hand on the side of his neck, his mouth open in shock when he brought his fingers to his face to see blood covering them.

For long moments, we just stood there, staring at each other. Both of us were in a state of absolute horror.

But this? I'd never hurt a man like this. I'd never killed a man before.

"You stupid fucking bitch."

Although I knew that wound had to be life-threatening because of the amount of blood that poured out, it was like a strength coursed through him as he narrowed his eyes, bared his teeth, and charged at me.

I swung my arm out, the handle slippery in my grasp from the blood. I expected him to slam into me and take me to the ground, but that never happened.

Somebody came out from the shadows and pulled the guy back, tossing him away, as if he were a rag doll. His body landed with a hard thump on the pavement.

He only had half a second to understand what was happening before the massive body was taking the knife from my grasp, kneeling beside the asshole, and opening his neck from ear to ear.

Oh. God.

Even in the shadowy alleyway, I saw his flesh open up, parting so easily. Blood spurted out, pulsating with each beat of his heart.

Matteo was here. He'd come for me.

After a long second, Matteo stood menacingly over the dying man. The dim light from the streetlamp washed him in a muted yellow glow. I felt my eyes widen as Matteo slowly turned to face me. He smoothed his palms over his suit, his hands looking dark like spilled ink covered them.

Blood.

The dark rage that came from Matteo was like icy fingers along my body, a tangible grasp around my throat. I grew dizzy from it. My legs threatened to give out from under me, but Matteo was by me a second later.

He pulled my body close to his, his gaze locked on the side of my jaw where I'd been hit.

"I wanted to kill that motherfucker for even looking in your direction." He kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, and finally gave me the lightest press of his lips to my jawline.

Matteo started leading me out of the alley, and I kicked my chin up, refusing to act weak and defenseless. I tried to push him away and walk on my own, but his deep chuckle and the way he kissed the top of my forehead had me leaning against him.

"Sono qui per te. Lasciami essere la persona su cui ti appoggi. Solo per questa volta, Amore."

I'm here for you. Let me be the person you lean on. Just this once, Amore.