Chapter Eight

Domani

Finley and I spend the night at the cabin, making love into the late hours. Eventually, she passes out beside me, too exhausted to hold her eyes open any longer. I let her sleep for a few hours, but I don't. I walk the perimeter of the property, keeping my eyes peeled. Rafe would have had time to get someone to me by now, but if he's sent anyone, they don't show themselves.

I don't count on his mercy. If he can prevent a war and protect the family, he has to do what he has to do. But so do I. And whether he believes it or not, the only way that war doesn't find its way to his doorstep is by killing Cillian. Leaving him alive merely delays the inevitable.

I wake Finley at dawn. We leave the same way we came, with the sun barely cresting the horizon. But I don't head back to Chicago. At least not right away. We head southwest toward St. Louis. I want my ring on her finger before I go back to deal with her uncle.

I take backroads, avoiding the interstate in case Rafe has anyone posted up, looking for us.

Not even halfway there, Finley gets bored of looking at cornfields and cows. There isn't much else in this part of the state. She starts prowling through my shit.

"Jesus, Domani." Her brows climb higher with every weapon she discovers. "How many weapons do you have in this car?"

"Enough," I say grimly.

"How many is enough?"

"As many as it takes to get the job done, mio sole."

"How many people have you killed?"

"More than you're prepared to hear."

"Ten? Fifteen?"

"It's more than that, tesoro."

"A lot more?"

I nod.

"Five hundred?"

I cut my eyes at her, which makes her laugh. She's fucking with me. That surprises me. "You're not horrified by who I am, are you?"

"No," she whispers, sobering. "I understand you. Maybe better than I'd like to admit. If you're a monster, I'm a monster too. You think I wouldn't do the same thing to people like my uncle if I could get away with it? The people he's hurt don't haunt him. They haunt me. The people you've hurt don't haunt you, but the people they hurt? They haunt you. We're alike, Domani. In every way that matters, we're alike."

"Cristo," I mutter. She's so fucking intelligent, it's frightening. Most people aren't emotionally aware. They don't know what they're capable of because they aren't willing to face themselves. She knows because she's not afraid to look deep and examine even the darkest parts of herself. She doesn't run from them. She simply accepts them for what they are.

She knows that dark thoughts and violent delights don't make us monsters because she's faced true monsters. She's lived with evil. She's listened to the screams of its victims and smelled the burning flesh when their pleas fell on deaf, uncaring ears. Darkness balances light. One can't exist without the other. But evil? It's a bottomless pit of hopeless agony and despair. No light will ever burn it out. No good will ever balance it. It exists only to kill and consume. And in the end, to destroy.

We ride in silence for several miles before she grows bored again.

"What are you doing?" I ask, eyeing her warily as she unlatches her seatbelt and climbs to her knees in her seat, a look on her face that I've gotten to know well. She's up to something that's going to get her little ass in trouble.

"Trying something," she says, stretching across the console between us. Her hand lands on my cock.

"Fuck," I groan, slamming my head back against the seat.

"You can stop me if you want. But we both know you don't want." She palms me through my pants, smirking. She's right. I don't want. There's not a chance in hell that I'm telling her no right now.

She unzips my pants, delving her hot little hand inside to drag my cock out. I grit my teeth, trying to keep my eyes on the road instead of on what she's doing. I quickly set cruise control, figuring it's the safest way to keep me from crashing into a fucking tree when she's got her hands on my cock.

"Are you always hard, Domani?"

"When you're nearby? Yeah. Always."

This makes her smile. She wraps her fist around me, gliding it up and down.

"Tighter," I growl.

She squeezes, watching my face to see if she's got it right.

"Yeah, just like that."

She strokes me again. My hands are tight fists on the steering wheel, all of my attention focused on keeping the damn SUV on the road.

"Spit on it, Finley. Get it nice and wet."

"Nah. I think I'll do this instead." She flattens herself across the console, diving for my cock.

"Fuck!" I roar, the SUV swerving sharply as her hot little mouth closes around the head of my cock. I quickly course-correct, swerving back into our lane.

She plunges down, taking me as deep as she can. Choking on me.

I whip the car to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes before I flip it and kill us both. One hand goes to the back of her head, my fingers delving into her hair. I drag her up, forcing her to take a breath.

She fights me like a little hellcat, eager to get back on my cock.

"You want more, mio sole?"

"Yes," she hisses.

"Take it."

She does, plunging down on me again and then again. She sucks my fucking soul from my body, humming around me as she sucks and licks and drives me wild. If she's unskilled, so I am. It feels fucking fantastic.

I pump my hips, unable to stay still as she owns me. She likes when I do that. She likes it even more when I hold her still while I do. I fuck her face for a moment, using her to get myself off. She moans around me, trembling.

My balls draw up, my spine tingling.

"I'm going to come, tesoro. Do you want it down your pretty throat?"

She bobs her head eagerly.

Fuck, she's perfect.

I groan, pushing and pulling her down on me. My balls give up the fight. I hold her down, growling her name as my seed spills across her tongue and down her throat. She swallows eagerly, drinking every drop I give her.

I watch in rapt fascination, marveling that this beautiful little monster is mine. My heart. My soul. My queen.

I drag her across the console into my arms, taking her lips in a deep kiss. I don't fucking care if she tastes like me. She's mine.

"Mmm," she moans when I let her up for air. "I like this cornfield."

I chuckle, pressing my face to her throat. Cristo, she makes me feel alive in a way I never have. "Get your gorgeous ass back in your seat before you see far more of it than you intended, mio sole."

She flashes me a grin, scrambling back over the console into her seat. Once she's settled and I've tucked my cock back into my pants, I reach for her hand, lacing our fingers together. She turns a blinding smile on me, her eyes lighter than they've been since she woke in my bed, what seems like a lifetime ago.

I brush a kiss across her knuckles and pull back out onto the road, heading for St. Louis.

I rent a room near the ballpark, paying in cash. Her eyes light up when she throws the curtains open and realizes she can see the Arch from our room.

"I've never been anywhere," she whispers, staring at the Arch with one hand on the glass as if she aches to touch it. "That's what I dreamed about my whole life. Going places. Seeing the world. Just escaping." She turns to look at me. "I've seen more with you in one day than I've seen my whole life, Domani."

I tug her into my arms, brushing my lips across her forehead. When this is over, I'm going to take her everywhere just to see the wonder in her eyes every time she sees some new sight. It's like magic to her. I'll give her the world. Every fucking corner of it.

"Thank you."

I tip her head back, brushing a kiss across her lips. "Don't thank me for taking you from that place, Finley. You didn't belong there."

"I meant, thank you for giving me the last twenty-four hours. It's the first time I've ever felt normal."

"Get used to it, mio sole. This is only the beginning."

"I hope so."

"I know so. I won't allow anything to happen to you."

"Then we should probably get moving," she whispers. "The longer he has time to plan, the worse it'll be for everyone."

She's not wrong about that. The longer we give him to make a move, the less time we have to strike first. I intend to be back in Chicago by morning. Which means I need to move fast if I'm getting a ring on her finger today.

"I need to make some calls. Why don't you shower?"

"What kind of calls?"

"We need to get you an ID and a social security card," I murmur. "We'll need them to have a marriage license issued. I know a guy who can make it happen, but I need to track him down."

"Oh. I didn't think about that."

I brush my lips across her forehead. "Go shower, mio sole. I'll handle it."

She turns toward the bathroom, but I grab her hand at the last moment, halting her.

"Wait." I pull my phone from my pocket, tuck strands of hair behind her ears, and snap a photo to send to my guy for her ID. "For your ID," I explain when she shoots me a questioning look.

"Oh." She scowls at me. "You could have let me brush my hair, Domani."

"You look beautiful, tesoro."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. Instead, she stomps toward the bathroom, muttering under her breath about annoying men. I smile, watching her go. She isn't half as annoyed as she likes to pretend.

Once I hear the shower running, I start making calls.

It doesn't take long to track down my guy.

"You need it this morning?" Aero Doukas complains. "You're asking for a fucking miracle, Brambilla."

"I'm aware. I'm also willing to pay for a miracle. Can you make it happen or not?"

"Depends on whether the police are involved," Aero says. "I can make an ID that'll pass visual inspection to someone untrained, but if a cop gets ahold of it, it's a different story. I need more than a few hours to work that kind of magic."

"The police aren't involved." Cillian can't call them. He can't afford to have them crawling through every inch of his home, not when he's killed God only knows how many people inside. They'd drag him out in cuffs long before they started looking for Finley.

"Fuck. Send me her photo. I'll get what you need," Aero says. "Double the usual."

"When will it be ready?"

"Give me until noon."

"Eleven."

"Noon."

"Cazzo," I growl. "Fine."

"Meet at the usual spot?"

"No. The dress shop on Olive Street downtown."

"The dress shop?"

"The bridal shop."

He whistles. "You getting fucking married or something, Brambilla?"

"Something like that."

"Well, goddamn. I'm going to mind my fucking business and not ask any questions before I end up in the middle of some bullshit I don't want to be in the middle of, but congratulations."

A smile touches my lips. Aero is an unusual man, but he's been useful to me over the years. He doesn't work for the mafia. He runs his own thing. We all have our own networks. We never know when we may need them. Sometimes, the best thing we can do for the family is call in outside resources. Sometimes…we need those same resources for ourselves.

No one initiates with plans to betray. Honor matters to every single one of us who swear the oath. It's what keeps us together when everything else is falling the fuck apart around us. But sometimes, circumstances change, and we're forced to change with them. We adapt, or we die.

I'm an adaptive motherfucker.

I'm not a disloyal one, though. Rafe may think I've betrayed my oaths. But I see it differently. I've done everything I could to keep them. I didn't leave to avoid them. I left to avoid breaking them. And I'm going back for the same reason.

"See you at noon," I tell Aero and then disconnect.

Unlike yesterday, I don't have dozens of missed calls and texts. I have only one from an unknown number.

Don't go home.

I don't have to ask to know who sent it. I know.

Coda.

Fuck. I guess it's begun, then.