Page 110 of The Mafia's Bride
Maybe I just needed someone to believe in me, to show me I could be strong.
Maeve drops into a crouch before me. Her dress from the auction is long gone, now in a pair of jeans and a band shirt, two sizes too big. Her dark strands are whipping behind her like a dark cape but it’s her eyes that strike me.
No longer emotionless or dead, they’re full of fear, panic, and anger.
Grabbing my shoulders, she tucks the blanket closer around me. “How are you holding up?”
Since holding me from the flames, I haven’t seen my sister. She’s been off, helping Nico, giving orders. I’m sure bribing cops to stay quiet. Or threatening them.
Shrugging, I nestle into the warmth of the blanket. It smells vaguely like mint. “I’ve been better. Being almost killed is not something I thought I’d have on my bingo card this year.”
Her lips twitch as if she’s going to smile. “You get used to it.”
There’s a heavy pause as she smooths the sides of the blanket. It’s like she can’t help touching it, touching me, to make sure I’m really here.
She clears her throat, avoiding my eyes. “Did he…” she trails off. “Did he do anything else in that house, Sloane?”
Tears well in my eyes before I push the emotions away. Unimaginable fear, shame, but pride well in my throat.
I won’t give into the fear of what might have been. I’m here, I’m alive. I survived.
Sniffling, I look to the rose-colored sky, feeling the first rays of dawn against my skin like a beginning of a new life. “He tried. Then he got a right hook for his effort.”
Something dark crosses her face and my breath stalls. It’s almost demonic the way it warps her face.
She tucks my hair behind my ears gently. “You did good, kid,” shecompliments quietly. “You fought back. You didn’t give up. You did really good.”
The praise in my big sister’s words undoes something in my chest, unlocking a part that needed to hear that. Ugly sobs rack my body and without another word, she wraps me into her embrace, rubbing soothing circles along my back. Like this is the most natural thing she’s ever done.
My hysterics turn into silent cries, but she doesn’t release me. Even as shoes crunch on the gravel before us and draws our attention skyward, her arms stay around me.
Killian kneels in front of us, flicking my nose like an annoying insect, something he’s done since I was little. “A stab wound and a gunshot? Someone’s showing her O’Brien roots.”
I can’t help the smile, because that’s high praise coming from the hitman.
Killian glances to Maeve, eyes hardening. “What do you want to do?”
“I fucking want him,” her words are cold, dark, chilling the air between us. “I don’t care if Nico has first rights. I want him, Killian.”
He inclines his head. “If they haven’t already killed him, I’ll get him.”
“If they have, I want the goddamn pieces.”
The killer leaves, and I look to my sister, curious. “What are you going to do to him?”
Maeve sighs, letting me lean onto her shoulder. She gently brushes a tear from my face, tucking the blanket around me again. Her black eyes look to the spot where Dom branded me. It’s as if she can see the tattered skin, the burnt edges through the layers covering me.
She’s haunted by it.
“You can get that removed,” she says, ignoring my question. “I can call a few doctors.”
Just like before, she avoids answering me. Only this time, it doesn’t feel like a slight, but a protection. She doesn’t want me tarnished by her misdeeds.
Maybe that’s always what her silence has been about. Protecting me from this world for as long as she could.
“I was thinking about it.” I swallow. “I could cover it with a tattoo.”
“Tattoo,” she muses. She nods as if she’s come to a conclusion. “Maybe even the De Luca infamous black rose. Considering you’re a De Luca now.”
