Page 47 of Psycho

PSYCHO

I fucked her three times, attempting to get my fill, and held her while she cried. Then, I watched her sleep restlessly. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. Everything about her is simply stunning. Still, I can’t forget her plans, and I can’t trust her in the future. Yet, I can’t kill her because, as she said, I’m fucking weak, so I’ll let another man do it for me. One I won’t be forced to look at again. Hell, I’ll probably kill him for it.

Things have always been black and white for me. I don’t forgive and I don’t forget. If you come for what’s mine, you don’t exist. Anastasia can’t be different. Yet, every time I think of killing her, I physically feel ill.

Anastasia lies on my chest sleeping, but begins to stir. She claws her fingernails into my chest, while whimpering my name repeatedly.

“Massimo,” she cries, obviously having a nightmare.

“It’s okay,” I coo, knowing full well I’m a goddamn liar. In mere hours, her world is going to go from dark to pitch black. Jimmy will beat her and rape her brutally. His favorite is chasing a woman straight into a bear trap. He’ll sit laughing, as the steel claws sink into her skin and bones. Am I any better than he is? I get off on cutting her skin. It’s simply a different type of torture.

She pops her head up, her wide eyes on my face, as a gasp escapes from her lips. Tears fall down her face, twisting something inside me, and I don’t like it. I’ve wanted her tears in such a feral way, but not now, not because of what another man will do to her.

“Now you cry, little lamb?”

“I’ve never been more heartbroken. Not since my son died.”

Rolling her over to her back, I gaze into her eyes with curiosity.

“Heartbroken? Not scared?”

She blinks fast, trying to stop the tears, but they keep falling.

“I’m scared. Terrified, but knowing I love you, and you feel so little for me that you’re doing this…”

Anastasia closes her eyes, and takes a shaky breath before continuing.

“That’s worse than anything he’ll do to me.”

I don’t understand how a woman could think she loves a man that kidnapped her, and tortured her, but I don’t say anything, as much as it confuses me. She’s clearly mistaken. I’m not the man a woman falls for. I can’t love, and I can’t be loved. Fucking her good, and often, has made her think she feels something she doesn’t. She can’t.

“Is your mother alive?” She asks, and I swallow hard as I nod, because I know where she’s going with this.

“Does she know what you’re doing? Would she be okay with this?”

She wouldn’t, although there’s no doubt my mother would agree to put family first, always. My brothers won’t forgive this, even though they wouldn’t have said much if I had killed her. We eliminate threats. It’s what we do, but this is something we don’t do. I keep hearing my brother’s voice in my head.

‘We don’t traffic people.’

I don’t respond to her about my mother, and I’m sure I don’t need to. She continues trying to change my mind.

“Let me go, Massimo. You can even tell him I ran. I’ll go, and you’ll never see me again.”

Narrowing my gaze at her, I look at her like what she said is fucking stupid, and it is.

“Let you go? I was never going to let you go, little lamb. That’s not an option. You cannot walk out of here and live your happy life. You cannot be fucking trusted. I should be the one to take your life. This is the punishment you deserve. But I can’t.”

Anastasia collapses in my arms, like she’s lost all her fight. The same one she’s going to need, to have any chance of surviving Jimmy.

For the entire time I’ve had her, she has never cried for herself, but she does now. Burying her face in my chest, she drenches my skin with her tears.

“I know what I did. What I planned to do, but it’s different now. I would never hurt you or your family,” she cries through hiccups. I wish I could believe her, but I lost all ability to trust anyone outside of my family years ago.

“What have you done?” My mother cries, while rubbing her hands over her face.

I stare at her with confusion, and try to take her hand, but she pulls it away.

“Only you could have given Julia the information she needed. Only you.”

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