Chapter Forty-Five

Intuition isn’t something I’ve been granted the same way others have. A gift that sparks up at certain times for guidance. It’s never been that way for me. For the entirety of my life, it’s been my daily fuel and has never failed me. Not once.

The thing that’s kept me exactly where I need to be. In the right places, at the right times.

So how did I get here?

How in the fuck did I get here?

By ignoring my intuition long before I allowed myself to fall.

By blurring the sand streaming through the hourglass to multiply it, make it last, even as I saw it slipping away.

By playing deaf to every whispered sign and, instead, reveling in the fire she ignited inside my heart.

By ignoring the roar of warning that told me to hand her the gun, tossing it instead, if only to dim some of the fear in her eyes. A look I feared all along. A look that comes with the knowledge of what I’m truly capable of.

A look that told me she was finally convinced that I was the bad guy I told her I was.

A look of terror that ate me alive as she cowered from me when I entered her bedroom. In mere seconds I recognized the realizations I had failed to protect her from. The truth that this was never a game, and we hadn’t exaggerated the stakes—but underplayed them. A look that told me she thought I would be the one to deliver those consequences.

A look that annihilated me enough to toss my gun too far out of my reach.

It was when her eyes cleared, and she truly saw me as she had all those months ago, that I was gifted those few precious seconds of exchange. A collection of minutes where I was able to confess my fears, apologize for my deceit, and finally deliver my ill-timed declaration wholeheartedly.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ve been in love.”

A declaration I fucking refused to hold inside another second, knowing it was too late. A confession that gave me a bittersweet sort of peace, along with the notion that one day, I might be a worthy man deserving of the love I selfishly took.

And now?

Now I’m standing front row and dead center to the consequence of feigning ignorance to those instincts.

But in doing so, I was rewarded with a piece of paradise, a minute more with my ignorant bliss.

And I took it.

That’s how I got here.

Even if my gun now resides in enemy hands.

“What brings you here, Matteo? It’s a little late for company.”

I spike my tone enough that if Tobias is anywhere in the near vicinity, he’ll come. But I feel the intuition I’ve overlooked one time too many kicking in as my entire being erupts in awareness.

It’s too late.

Intent on keeping Matteo a safe distance from her, I engage in pointless back and forth while maintaining the focus of the monster in front of me. The threat in his eyes and posture looming mere feet away from the one thing I refuse to be robbed of.

I’ve lost enough to life’s hand. It doesn’t get to have her.

Feeling it when Cecelia emerges from her bedroom, I calmly tell her to step back. I don’t want her seeing the depravity radiating from this motherfucker. Though alike in some ways, this sick fuck considers spilling blood a pleasure.

We’re entirely different in that respect.

At least I have that. Even if I can identify with him in a few ways, I won’t lose sleep over spilling his blood.

For her, I’ll become the goddamn boogeyman. Matteo reads as much in my eyes, of that I’m sure, even as he threatens her in an attempt to rattle me.

Before I can take another step, Tobias sounds up behind me.

“What’s good, brother?”

“Got this handled,” I relay before asking Matteo about his brother’s whereabouts—my confidence in Tobias. Refusing to think about the half-dozen ways this has already gone wrong, I’m reassured when I hear Tobias address Cecelia to come to him. Just as relief briefly filters in, Andre’s voice sounds. The three of them go back and forth in meaningless exchange as Tobias tries to reason with me to wait. But I voice my objection because of what I know and see—no longer ignoring my instincts. It’s so fucking clear in Matteo’s eyes that he’s salivating for this.

That makes two of us, motherfucker.

Knowing I can take this piece of shit out through sheer will alone—whether he has the advantage or not—I assure Tobias I can. It’s the threat behind the front door that I’m wary of. It’s going to take time, even at top speed, for our birds to get here.

When Tobias snaps at Andre to back off, I take another step down, separating the monster from her. With each one, I feel the chains that have bound me start to strain and break, one by one. Cecelia is at the forefront of my mind. The noise surrounds me, the collective screams of the other innocents I’ve sworn to avenge propelling me forward. Getting lost in the void of the eyes staring back at me, adrenaline starts to take over.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

This monster is going to pay for them all, even as my brother pleas with me, and I assure him there’s no deal to be made. This was inevitable, and another unmistakable inkling tells me that I knew it well before now.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

It’s Cecelia’s call that stops me from embracing the dark snaking its way into me. Focusing on her, I allow myself the chance to tell her that briefly, she gave me a glimpse of a happiness I hadn’t thought I was capable of.

“Cecelia,” I address firmly, my heart lurching into the rhythm she created.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Tobias attempts to cut in, calling my name, but I refuse him.

“I’m talking to Cecelia.”

“Yes?” she replies, voice shaking with fear.

“After this, want to watch a movie?”

Ignoring any outside noise beyond our exchange, I tell her of the memory that kept me going in France.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Of a time I felt complete and whole.

“You can make that cheddar popcorn I love, and we can crowd under that blanket that smells like . . . what’s that smell?”

“Lavender,” she releases in a shaky rush.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Of a life we might have had . . . if I didn’t have so many fucking monsters to slay.

“Yeah, and I’ll watch a chick movie because all I really want to do is watch you watch it. Your face gets all dopey when you get love drunk.”

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

“We love rainy days, don’t we, baby?”

“We do,” she croaks, voice breaking.

Tilting my head at Matteo in challenge, I make my declaration clear to Tobias to ready himself. “We don’t fucking negotiate with terrorists.”

Taking another step toward Matteo, Cecelia’s voice reaches me in elevated panic. “Dominic.”

“What is it, baby?”

“S’il te plaît, ne fais rien de stupide. Je t’aime.” Please don’t do anything stupid. I love you.

“Je sais.” I know.

Her declaration fuels me as I stand between her and the monster I swore to protect her from while her love sets me free. For a brief time, she was my solace—my reprieve. The only dream of a future I allowed myself to have, but she can’t be. Not anymore.

Too many monsters.

“Dominic,” Tobias orders gruffly. “Stand down, right fucking now. We’re still talking.” I feel the desperation in his order, in him, as he rattles behind me to stop and think it through. But I have, for far too long, and I’m finally ten steps ahead.

Sorry brother.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Irony strikes me then that I’ve been waiting for what seems like a lifetime to start this war. But with my brother’s confession about Roman—about Cecelia’s mother—I waited in vain.

As I inch closer, my intuition grants me a revelation that ignites me.

All this time, I’ve been waiting to pull the trigger when I am the fucking trigger.

Feeling the truth of that to my core, I lift my chin, eyes mirroring the black gaze of the monsters I’ve battled my whole life and everything they represent—the system that set us all up for failure. That put us at war with each other as they watched on in amusement while creating more power-hungry predecessors. All of it’s there—the poverty, the pain, the suffering, the division, and all for one thing that has never been successfully bought or retained in human history—control.

It ends here and starts here.

I might not be able to take them all out, but this monster . . . this fucking monster is mine. With a head full of vengeance and a heart fueled by blue fire, I feel the last chain break free as I take my next step and engage the abyss. “Care to dance?”

“Honored, my friend,” the evil replies.

“Make it a good one.”

“Dominic, no!”

White hot pain blinds me as it shoots through my limbs as I’m struck forward by another bullet—this one ripping through my shoulder. My eyes find Cecelia, relief covering me to see her whole and untouched as a wave of pain blinds me, and I reach for her. A second later, she’s in my arms as I collapse against the wall, fire circulating in my belly as a chill skitters up my spine.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Pain takes hold, breaths hard-earned as Tobias appears, cursing while trying desperately to plug the holes running through me. Cecelia’s cries drag me back to her as I take relief in seeing them both unscathed.

“Go,” I tell them both with what energy remains as their words blur, my pulse slowing as the pain takes over.

Whoosh . . . Whoosh . . . Whoosh . . . Whoosh.

Feeling myself slipping, Cecelia pleads for me to hold on, apologies pouring from her lips. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Focusing on my brother, I see my fate solidify in his eyes and, in return, give him words I know he’ll understand. Words that, deep down, he’s always understood and a truth I’ve always known. “Nous savions tous les deux que je n’allais jamais voir mes trente ans, mon frère. Prends soin d’elle.” We both know I was never going to make it to thirty, brother. Take care of her.

Seeing the promise in his eyes, I feel the urgency of the threat waiting behind the front door, and voice as much. “Go,” I manage through a cough, tasting the blood coating my mouth as I wheeze through the pain. “Please.”

“No,” Cecelia shakes her head furiously, demand in her deep blues. “Sorry, you can’t go, Dominic, because I dreamed your future up for you. Hang on, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Staring up and into the soul of the woman worth warring over—who gave me a glimpse of heaven on earth, aware of just how much power her love holds—I again curse the fucking fate that allowed it to be taken from me. But just as that thought drifts in, what I thought I’d been robbed of is gifted in the way it always has been, through her, because it was never about the weather, time, or place.

Whoosh . . . Whoosh . . . Whoosh . . .

Her warmth engulfs me. The atmosphere shifting as tumultuous storm clouds gather in her eyes, and her rain begins to pelt me—all burden lifting, along with any remnants of anger. A bone-deep chill sweeps through my body as the pain abates, and her turbulent blues pierce and hook me, sweeping me away.