Chapter Twenty-Four

I arrive home near dawn, feeling safe enough to avoid any visitors so I can make my exit. Limbs heavy, back stinging, I'm exhausted from hours of driving aimlessly, my body sore from countless minutes spent staring into the dark road ahead, directionless. I have no idea what it's going to take to move on from here, but I'm leaving. Not tomorrow, or the day after, now.

I have the money.

I've lost my fucking sanity for it, but it's over. This ends today. The toxicity of the relationships I've formed is making me venomous. I'm so far from the girl who pulled up to this house a year ago.

Securing the house, I set the alarm, knowing that anyone who wants inside can and will get to me. Walls and doors mean nothing to these men, and at this point, I'm sure none of them will stop me from leaving. Because maybe now they see me as a poison too. We've hurt and betrayed each other. There's no coming back from that. And Tobias's absence, his silence, only confirms that once again, I've played the fool. I might not know what love is, but I now know what it isn't.

I push all thoughts of Tobias away as I pull the packed suitcase from beside my bed and begin loading another. I should have been packed before I hit the garage, but I was too angry to come up with a better plan. Instead, I counted on arriving home at the late hour, expecting that anyone looking for me would give up when they saw I didn't return home. It's when I hear the disarm of the front door that I know that my plan backfired.

I'm not alone.

Fear cripples me as I stand in the center of my bedroom, waiting. Never did I fear these men before, and never did I ever think they would hurt me.

Nor did I think they would push back over a couple of tires.

Okay, a lot of tires. Every tire in the parking lot.

Tires that will cost them a small fortune to replace. In the grand scheme of things, it was a psycho ex -girlfriend move. And that spectacle made me look like the guilty one when I'm anything but. But who marks a woman without their consent?

Lunatics in a power struggle. I'm forever branded because of them, because of their selfishness.

I blink and see Dominic standing in the threshold of my bedroom. A gun tucked in his waistband with the tip of a silencer attached to the end of it.

A silencer.

Swallowing, I eye it and take a step back, and he holds his hands up.

"Cee." He shakes his head as if my reaction is ridiculous. "Come on."

I'd shown my ass tonight, made myself look unstable. Unreliable. Emotional. A liability.

"I'll pay for them. All of them. I-I was angry." I take another step back, and he chuckles incredulously before pulling the gun out of his jeans. I hear the thump of it land on the stairs as he makes his way into the bedroom. "No gun, okay?"

"W-what are you doing here?"

He eyes my suitcases and then brings his silver gaze back to me. I can't control the shake that overtakes me, nor the panic that starts to rapidly consume me.

"I'll pay for them, Dom. I swear. I won't say anything. I'm leaving, see?" I nod toward my suitcases.

"Come on, Cecelia," he scoffs. "Really?"

"I was angry. But I d-didn't t-tell anyone."

"Why are you shaking?"

"I can't believe anything you say." I eye my cell phone where it sits on my nightstand, and he shakes his head dubiously.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

"I don't know you."

"Yes, you fucking do. You know me," his tone is guttural, full of disappointment, and it throws me.

"Now you care about me? A few hours ago, you looked at me like I meant nothing to you."

He blows out an exasperated breath. "Well, I'm a bit fucking ripped up at the moment. And you do know me."

"I don't know anything. I'm not a loose end, okay? I won't say anything to anyone. I haven't told a soul, Dom. I swear."

"Jesus," he says, scrubbing his face with his hand, his expression turning sick with worry. "What have we done to you?"

I swallow. "I just want to leave now." I do my best to control the shake in my voice as a tear spills over. "C-can I please just go home?"

He studies my expression, and nothing but hurt shines in his eyes when he steps toward me, and I flinch.

"Did he tell you to come here?"

This time he's the one who flinches. "Please tell me you don't think that of me. I could never hurt you."

"I don't know what to think anymore." I cup my mouth holding in my sob. "I don't know what to believe."

"Jesus Christ, I think this hurts more than coming home to find you with him." He hangs his head before bringing his eyes to mine. "Cecelia. I would never, ever, fucking hurt you. Not for anything or anyone or any reason." He takes a step forward. "Come on, baby, look at me."

I shake my head.

"Damnit, Cecelia, look at me. Right now."

I lift my eyes to his.

" See me. It's me."

My heart seizes when he takes another step forward, and another and I stop my retreat, his name bursting from my lips in an anguished cry just as he pulls me into his arms. We clutch each other as my fear subsides, and I realize just how far I've fallen down the rabbit hole.

"Goddamnit," he whispers, pulling me tightly to him, his voice riddled with ache, "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Have we twisted things so much?"

I clutch him to me, pressing my face into his neck as he covers me with his hands, running them along my back and down my arms. "What have we done to you?" His voice is full of emotion as he pulls me tighter to him, and I inhale his faint but familiar scent.

"I just . . . don't know what to believe anymore."

"We fucked up so bad with you, believe that."

He pulls away and stares down at me, his eyes searching mine, his tone desperate. "Tell me you know deep down we aren't those guys?"

I shake my head, unable to form words.

"Cee, that's not us."

"Last night, I was drugged and tattooed. Are you sure you're not those guys?"

"Jesus"—he cups the back of his neck—"you're right. I can't blame you for thinking the worst, can I?"

He exhales a breath and pulls out his burner phone from his jeans before sitting at the edge of my bed. Tension begins to brew as he looks over at me.

"Ten months," he says as I study him just as carefully, feeling every single day of the space those months put between us. "We should have told you we were coming back. I wanted to. Sean wanted to keep to the deal we made with him to prove Tobias wrong. He didn't think..." He exhales a loaded breath, "I guess it doesn't matter now."

I lower my eyes to the carpet as he clasps his hands between his knees. A long silence passes before he speaks up.

"He's right, you know. My brother spoke the truth. He's spent half his life setting things up, always in the background, doing everything he could to fucking get this thing together. To make sure we were taken care of." I look him over and see the exhaustion in his posture, in his eyes. "He was telling the truth."

"I'm not sure you know the meaning of that word. That any of you do."

"You wanted in," he reminds me. "This is in."

"Not this way," I counter. "And not at this cost."

"I told you more than once you didn't want the truth. Why do you think I tried so hard to push you away at first?" One side of his mouth lifts. "You were so fucking perfect." His eyes cloud with memory. "Standing there in my yard that day, and after..." he shakes his head. "I wanted to hate you. I tried so hard to hate you."

"Didn't notice."

We share a sad smile.

"We always knew the truth would be the end. We always knew that keeping you in the dark was the only real way to keep you. You were amongst liars, thieves, and killers," he says softly, "way too fucking good for any of it, and I think we clung to you because you represented everything we wanted to protect, but could never be."

"I never saw you that way. Not ever."

"Until tonight, huh?" He hangs his head. "Even if we're trying to do right, we aren't saints, Cecelia."

The familiar pang of my name on his lips stings me, and I breathe through it.

"I'm no saint either. You made sure of that. I was a game."

"No"—he tugs at my hand so I'm standing above him—"never, you were never that."

"Tell me why you're here."

"You didn't miss me?"

My eyes instantly water. "Every day, rain or shine." I huff and slap the tears from my face. "Jesus, why can't I hate you?"

"For the same reason I can't hate you."

He eyes his phone and sets it down before a sad smile tips his lips. "I haven't seen him look at any woman the way he looked at you. I've never seen him light up like that. I knew it the minute I saw you together. I knew that we were fucked. Sean did too."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. I can hate him all I want for taking what didn't belong to him, but it's true."

"We didn't mean—"

He jerks his chin. "I can't hear that right now, okay?"

"Well, I'm not a possession. Despite the fucking branding on my back. No one has that right over another person. This is supposed to be about free will, remember?"

He laces our fingers. "You make that hard to remember. And we were too late." He looks up at me, and all I see is hurt. "We were too late."

"So, you guys fucking mark me? Throw a fit and fucking mark me?"

He squats and leans in, pressing his forehead to my stomach. "I can't do this now. I can't...just...make him happy."

"I'm leaving, Dominic. Right now. That's what I'm doing."

"You may be, but we both know he won't let you go."

"He doesn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, nuzzling my stomach before looking up at me. "I'm so fucking sorry for all we've put you through. I want you to know that. We all are."

I swallow. "I might be pissed at you, too, but I'm sorry about the cost to you. I never got the chance to tell you I'm sorry about your parents."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I don't understand how you could—"

He snaps his gaze to mine. "Be with you?"

I nod.

He stands, and time stops when he cups my jaw. And it's just me and my cool dark cloud. We lock eyes for long seconds. "That's one question I can answer," he whispers, his eyes piercing as he leans in, "yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes," he strokes my face. "I've been in love."

The words strike hard, and I burst into tears at the sound of them.

He grips me in his hold before pressing a brief kiss to my lips and pulling away. "But she went and fell in love with my brother."

He brushes a tear from my cheek as I look up at him. "I swear to God, I didn't want to. I clawed his eyes out for as long as I could."

He gives me a weak chuckle. "I believe that." He clears his throat and eyes the suitcase behind me.

"I'll never forgive him," I say, the ache intensifying.

"I'll leave that up to you."

"Will you?" I ask.

He sighs. "He's my brother, hell, in a way, he's been like a father, too. I don't know, Cee. It's been a fucked-up couple of days." He scrubs his face. "Come on, let's get you home."

"Not without answers, first—"

His phone goes off, and he lifts a finger to me before he reads the text and his eyes fly to mine. "Fuck."

The look on his face has me paling. "What is it?"

He jerks his chin to quiet me before he races out of my bedroom.

I move to follow him and freeze when Dominic speaks up from the top of the stairs.

"What brings you here, Matteo? It's a little late for company."