Page 18 of A Trap So Flawless

“Bikers,” I reply. “I think. I saw motorcycles.”

He breathes out harshly on the other end.

“Curse just called me from fucking jail. He shot two of them. It’s going to take me some time to get his situation sorted out. And what about Uncle Vinny? Curse said he thought he got hit.”

“Yeah.” I’m surprised by how quiet and even my voice is. There’s no tremor, nothing to indicate I was the one trying to keep his blood in is body with my own two hands. “In the chest. He’s in surgery.”

“Christo Santo.”

“Sal got hit too,” I say woodenly. “In the head. I guess I’m a widow now.”

I try to catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, but it’s obscured by steam from the shower. Like a veil.

“I’m coming down there tonight,” Elio says. “I just need to make sure Deirdre’s safe first. The bratva are making some fucking moves right now.” He swears. “This is the worst possible timing for us to show weakness.”

“Timing. Yeah,” I reply without emotion. “And what about the timing of Darragh’s return?”

Silence.

The quietness enrages me. Hot anger floods my body, piercing the numbness.

“Answer me, Elio! Curse is with the police. Papà might not make it through the fucking night.” My voice cracks on that last part, but I keep on going, my voice rising higher and higher. “What the hell do you plan to do about Darragh in the meantime?”

“Why are you asking me about Darragh?” Elio replies. “He hasn’t been a problem since he used my ribs and kidney as his own personal punching bag.”

Oh my God. He doesn’t know. Papà didn’t tell him. Neither did Curse or Mamma…

Probably because they all knew he’d lose his fucking shit.

“Darragh is the one who threw Dario off that roof.”

“What the fuck are you-”

“And I was engaged to him. Am engaged to him.”

“To Dario? I know, I-”

“No!” I practically screech. “To Darragh Gowan! He gave me a ring! And it was all sanctioned by Papà! But then Papà found out about what happened on that rooftop, found out about the lies, and he dragged me here to marry Sal instead. I don’t think Darragh even knows.”

If this were a video call, I would hold up my ring finger like I was giving him the bird. Show him the heartbreakingly perfect yellow diamond.

“Well, Darragh coming back to Canada and finding out his fiancée has been married off to another man was not a variable I was fucking anticipating,” Elio says dryly. “I will come to Montréal tonight,” he reiterates. “I will see what can be done about Curse. And I will see to it that Darragh never fucking gets his hands on you.”

If only he knew. If only he knew how many times Darragh’s had his hands on me already…

How much I’ve grown to hate it and to crave it.

“Don’t do anything. Don’t talk to anyone,” he orders me. “Stay exactly where you fucking are.”

He hangs up without another word.

For a moment, I follow his commands. I remain motionless in the steamy bathroom with my phone pressed to my damp ear.

And then I’m moving. Getting dressed and grabbing my shit. A bag. Money. Credit cards. Extra clothes and toiletries. I’ve even got my passport, because there was talk of a honeymoon after the wedding. I toss that in as well.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be waiting, like a good little principessa, at the house. Or joining Mamma at the hospital to support her and wait for news on Papà. But I just… I can’t. I fucking can’t. Papà’s the reason we’re in this city at all. He would have happily married me off to someone who, on a balance of probabilities, probably murdered his first wife. I did my best to staunch his bleeding. I did my best to save him.

But there’s nothing else left for him inside me. Not now. Not here.

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