Page 25 of Ruined By Blood
I remain silent as we reach the SUV. Alessio stands beside the open rear door, his expression unreadable in the darkness.
CHAPTER 10
The fight leaves her body all at once, like she suddenly realizes the futility of struggling. Good. I'm not in the mood for further complications tonight.
"Stay put," I growl, leaning across her to grab the seatbelt.
Her breath catches as my chest brushes against hers. I freeze, our faces inches apart. Those ice-blue eyes lock with mine. For a moment, everything stills. The tension between us shifts into something electric and dangerous.
I click the seatbelt into place, the sound unusually loud in the silent car. A loose strand of her hair falls across her face, and I reach up without thinking, tuckingit behind her ear. My fingers linger against her skin a half-second longer than they should.
"Don't try that again," I mutter, pulling away and slamming her door shut.
The driver's seat feels miles away from her when I slide in. I start the engine and pull out of the compound, heading for the country house where she'll be safe. For miles, there's only silence between us. She stares out the window, and I keep my eyes on the road.
I glance at Sienna's profile, illuminated by passing streetlights. Her jaw is set, shoulders rigid with tension, but I can see the exhaustion in the slight tremor of her hands.
I guide the SUV through the night, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing mile. Her shoulders remain tight, hands clasped in her lap like she's ready to bolt despite the seatbelt keeping her in place. Every few minutes, I catch her scanning the surroundings, memorizing the route or looking for escape opportunities.
The quiet is suffocating.
I reach for the radio then pause, glancing at her profile in the dim dashboard light. "What kind of music do you like?"
She startles slightly, turning just enough to eye me with suspicion.
"I'm not asking for your deepest secrets," I say, keeping my voice casual. "Just thought we could use some background noise besides the engine."
She returns to staring out the window.
"Let me guess," I continue, undeterred. "Classical? You seem like the type who appreciates Chopin."
Nothing.
"Or maybe heavy metal? Headbanging seems therapeutic."I mime a quick head-bang while keeping my eyes on the road. "Great outlet for aggression."
The corner of her mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly.
"Pop? Country? Please don't say country. I'll have to reconsider this whole protection arrangement." I'm not usually this talkative, but something about her stubborn silence makes me want to crack it open.
She shifts in her seat, and I catch the faintest shadow of a smile before she presses her lips together again.
"You know what? I'll decide." I press the radio button and start flipping through stations. News. Static. Some god-awful techno. I stop on a station playing old 80s rock. "How's this?"
When she doesn't object, I leave it on low volume, just enough to fill the space between us.
"I get it," I say after a while. "This isn't exactly how you planned your evening. But it's better than whatever alternative you were running toward."
Her hands tighten in her lap.
"You weren't running toward anything, were you?" I realize. "Just away. With no plan."
The muscles in her jaw flex as she clenches her teeth.
"That's the problem with running, Sienna. Without somewhere to go, you just end up lost. Or worse—found by the wrong people."
The shadow smile appears again, but there's no humor in it. It's a bitter acknowledgment that I've hit on something true.
The 80s rock continues to blast through the speakers as we drive. Enzo taps his fingers against the steering wheel, matching the beat of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" like this is some normal road trip instead of... whatever this is.
