Page 69 of Lethal Devotion
I hesitate. “Of course.” Of course she needs to see her son. I need to go and debrief with Konstantin. But I don’t want to let her out of my sight just yet. Ican’t. It feels like a physical impossibility.
I follow her up the stairs, to her son’s room. She moves so quickly that I have to take long strides to keep up with her, and she’s out of breath by the time we get to it. She takes a deep breath as she stands just outside, then pushes open the door.
Adam is in the room, curled up in bed with a stuffed animal. It’s late—past midnight—but he’s awake, chewing on his thumb worriedly. The moment he sees Sienna, his green eyes—so much like hers—go wide and excited.
"Mama!" He scrambles out of bed and launches himself into Sienna's arms. She clutches him to her chest, stroking his hair as she whispers something into his ear, and I feel my chest ache watching them, as if it could crack open. I watch her hold him, her face buried in his dark hair, and it hurts to see the kind of family I’ve told myself all my life that I could never, and should never, have.
I've never had that. Never thought I wanted it. But watching Sienna with her son, seeing the way her whole body relaxes now that she knows he's okay, I understand why men start wars for their families.
I’m on the verge of starting a war for her.
"I was scared," Adam mumbles, his small voice muffled against Sienna's shoulder. "You didn't come home."
"I know, baby. I'm sorry. But we're here now, and we're safe."
"Both of you?" Adam pulls back to look at me over his mother's shoulder. "Damian came back too?"
I manage a tight smile in his direction. "Yeah, kid. I came back too."
The relief on his face is a sucker punch to the gut. This three-year-old was worried about me. Me, a man who kills for a living, who's done things that would give grown men nightmares. But this innocent little boy was scared that something might happen to me.
Adam looks back at his mother. “Mama, you’re dirty. And hurt.” He touches her face, and Sienna bites her lip.
“I just got into a little accident,” she says solemnly. “Just a little scrape, like when you trip and hurt your knee. But I’m fine. It just took a minute for me to get back.”
It’s a lie, through and through, but it would be impossible for her to tell Adam the truth. I doubt she ever will.
“You should clean up, Mama,” Adam says solemnly, and Sienna laughs, a bright, sharp burst of sound.
“Okay. But only if you promise to get some sleep. It’s very late.”
“I’m tired.” He yawns, clearly exhausted now that he’s no longer worried about his mother—and me. “I’ll go sleepy now.”
“Good.” Sienna carries him back to the bed, and I step out into the hall to let her tuck him in and say goodnight, feeling as if it’s something that I shouldn’t intrude on. After all, no matter what happened back there in the warehouse, whateverproofI had to give to Giovanni Russo, this isn’t my family. Sienna isn’t mine, not in any of the ways that matter, and her son isn’t my child. Her family is her own, separate from me—and it always will be.
Why the fuck does that hurt so goddamn badly?
When Sienna steps back out into the hallway, she looks surprised but relieved to see me there. And exhausted. She looks utterly, completely exhausted.
“I need to shower,” she says softly. “I need?—”
“I know.” I have that same feeling, the desire to scrub away the time spent in that warehouse, to carve it off of my skin and let it slither away down the drain. I know, logically, that it’s not my touch she wants to wash away, but still—that stings, too, in the illogical part of myself. I want to cover her with my body, touch every inch of her, leave it imprinted on her skin… and all she wants is to be clean of what’s just happened.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, and her lips twist.
“Yes and no. Yes, but I don’t think I could eat. I just need to shower… and sleep. That’s all. I’ll eat in the morning.”
My jaw tightens, but I nod. I’m already thinking of making sure food is sent up to her. She needs to eat, regardless. And I?—
I just need her. But now isn’t the time to talk about it, especially when I don’t even know what to say.
“I’m going to go talk to Konstantin. Make sure the estate is locked down. I’ll—” I press my lips together, a hundred different thoughts fighting for supremacy in my head. “I’ll come check on you. Later.”
I go and wake Mrs. Horvat, instructing her to take a tray of food up to Sienna’s room, and then spend the next hour going through the security protocols with Konstantin's men, checking camera feeds, making sure every entrance is covered. Konstantin tells me we’ll talk in the morning, that his priority is Valentina tonight, and I can understand that. He trusts me to make sure everything is secure. But my mind isn't really on the work. It's on the woman upstairs, probably standing under hot water right now, trying to wash away the memory of strange hands on her skin.
The thought makes me want to put my fist through a wall. It makes me want to go find Russo now, and peel his skin from his body. I don’t just want him dead, I want him tohurt. I want him to beg for mercy before I’m done with him.
I want all of Sienna’s pain etched on his body before he dies.
