Page 50 of Of Vows and Betrayal

I find the door to the back room and fling it open. Romero’s hand grips Ophelia’s arm, tight and possessive. Her eyes widen, flickering between relief and fear, her body tensing at Romero’s grip.

“Get your fucking hand off her,” I growl, my voice low and deadly. “Or I swear I’ll cut it off.”

Romero looks up, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Ah, the loyal bodyguard. How quaint.”

“I said, get your hands off her.” I step closer, my fists clenched and muscles coiled, ready to strike.

Romero’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t release his grip. “You’re out of place, dog. This is none of your business.”

“It became my business the moment you touched her,” I snap, stepping closer. “Let her go. Now.”

“Oh, did you let him fuck you, bella?”

And then I snap. In a blinding rage, I seize the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair tightly. With a surge of anger, I slam his face into the wall, feeling the sickening crunch of bone beneath my palm. He staggers, blood streaming from his nose, finally releasing Ophelia. She stumbles, her legs giving out. I catch her, my arms encircling her protectively,but the scene around us is chaotic. Romero’s groans fill the room as blood pools on the floor.

And then I see them—the marks on her upper arm, the unmistakable fingerprints, red and angry against her pale skin.

I trace them softly. “He did this?” It’s not a question, and when he groans and I see his hand on the floor, I act on impulse and step on it, breaking his fingers.

Romero screams, clutching his hand, but I don’t care. My only concern is Ophelia. I hold her close, my rage simmering just beneath the surface.

“Let’s go,” I whisper to her, my voice softer now, though my body is still trembling with anger.

She nods, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek, mingling with the relief and fear in her eyes. The sight tugs at something deep within me, a primal need to shield her from the world’s cruelty. I lead her out of the restaurant, ignoring the stares and whispers from the other patrons.

Once we’re outside, I stop and look down at her, my heart aching at the fear in her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, lips trembling. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone with him.”

“Don’t apologize,” I say, gentleness masking the turmoil inside me. I need her to know it’s not her fault. “You did nothing wrong. I’m here now, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“We’re in trouble. In so much trouble.” She looks up at me, her eyes full of fear.

She’s right, of course. She always sees the truth, evenwhen I refuse to. Despite all my connections, even I’m not sure I can pull off maiming the consigliere’s son. And yet, I didn’t think twice and would do it again if needed.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll fix this. I promise.”

“How?”

I have no fucking clue. “I’ll find a way.” I hail a cab. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“My place.”

Seething, I sit there, fighting the urge to lash out. I should be comforting her, but the rage inside me won’t be silenced. I’m angry at her father for pushing her to go out with that limp dick, I’m angry at that guy for daring to put his hand on her, and then I act—destroying her whole world with one text.

Me: Unleash port authorities.

I’m angry at myself for letting it happen and I’m angry at her for going out with him.

“You said you wouldn’t do it.” It’s a dick move. I know that, and I’m about to apologize when she speaks.

“I know, and my reasons are so childish.” She rests her hand on her bright-red face. “I heard what you said to the priest, and you said you could never want me.”

I stop breathing. This is why she left? This is why she sought comfort.

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