Page 80 of Atone

“Why not?” I ask.

“You saw what I did to Marco?”

“Yes, and you don’t scare me, Alex.” I press my lips tight, taking a shallow breath. “You’re not the only one with secrets and regrets. I’ve done my share of terrible things too.”

Remi’s scream echoes in my mind. I should have fought harder to save her. I should be out there hunting the man who hurt her. Instead, I’ve let myself get distracted. I was all she had left, and I’m failing to get her justice.

“We all have our failings.” Tears burn behind my eyes, but I hold the dam. “I’m not that different from you.”

“Except you are.” Once again, his hand finds my jaw,and he holds it like I’m shattered glass. “Your sins are forgivable.”

“And yours aren’t?”

He doesn’t answer that question right away. His gaze roves over my face, pausing where my lips press together.

“There’s no heaven for me at the end of this.” He slowly drags his thumb up over the apple of my cheek. “No forgiveness. No atonement. No peace.”

I can’t decide what makes me shiver. That it sounds like whatever he’s referring to isn’t over, or that he thinks he’s truly damned.

Truly evil.

“So why am I here then, Alex? If you’re that terrible and not worth it, then why would I subject myself to you?”

“Because it’s what you think you deserve.”

“You aren’t someone I’m just using to punish myself,” I whisper.

“I wouldn’t care if you were.”

“That’s really fucked-up.”

He shrugs. “It’s you.”

“And that means something?”

“It means everything, my angel.”

I swallow hard, trying to process how certain he sounds. After all these years without speaking, sometimes he still stumbles over his words just slightly, or his voice cracks. But there’s no hint of doubt when he talks about what I am to him.

No hesitation.

“I’m no angel. I’m not that innocent.”

“Never said you were.” Alex tilts my chin up, brushing his thumb along the ridge of my lower lip. “You’re the angel of death, Mila Bianchi. Because when I laid eyes on you, I was certain I’d crossed over.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Depends on how you look at it after what happened to me.”

I swallow hard, looking up into Alex’s eyes, and I dare to wrap my hand around his wrist. I ignore that he flinches when my fingers touch his scarred flesh, and I finally dare to ask him the question I’ve needed an answer to since the first day we met.

“What did happen to you, Alex? What did they do to you in that trial?”

26

WHAT YOUR TOUCH DOES TO ME

MILA

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