Page 68 of Tragic Empire
Lifting her chin with my fingers, I tilt my head. “Why do you think that?”
“Memories,” she mumbles. “They’re fuzzy—like they’ve been buried deep for a long time. But today seems to be bringing them to the surface. I think this has happened to me before. Losing my temper and… I didn’t remember, Cassio, I swear.”
“Hey, it’s all right?—”
“I wouldn’t have married you without telling you if I knew,” she interrupts, eyes swimming with emotion. “You shouldn’t be saddled with a killer basket case. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“Don’t say that,” I snap, pinching her chin between my fingers. “Stop acting like I should be upset or fucking disgusted, Ana. You killed someone, you may have killed more in the past. So fucking what? You think I haven’t delivered more souls into the afterlife? I guarantee my body count is higher than yours, Wife. Want to compare?”
“How can you be so okay with this?”
“Because I know you,” I insist, moving to cup the side of her face. “If she said something so vile you don’t even want to repeat it, she clearly deserved exactly what you gave her.”
“I shouldn’t have made a scene,” she argues, frowning. “Now you have to take care of another one of my messes. Aren’t you exhausted?”
“Not even fatigued, Wife. You think I can’t handle you?”
“You’re crazy for even wanting to,” she breathes.
“Then call me crazy, baby.” My forehead drops to hers. “Cause more mayhem, I won’t even blink. I don’t give a shit if you drop more bodies as long as it doesn’t hurt you, Ana.”
“It doesn’t. That’s the problem isn’t it? It should hurt me. Normal people don’t feel indifferent about killing someone.”
“You don’t feel entirely indifferent,” I point out. “Otherwise you wouldn’t feel bad about not feeling bad.”
“God, I’m a mess.” Ana sighs, tilting her head to lay on my chest.
“My mess.”
Kissing the top of her head, I rub up and down her arms, trying to assure her further that she has nothing to fear from me. I won’t reject her or show a single sign of distaste after what she’s done. Something tells me the woman she killed made a comment about me or our relationship, and Ana’s fierce reaction only captivates me further.
“Do you know why Cole liked me so much?” she whispers, her head lifting to show me that her eyes have shifted to appear cold and haunted. “He knew that deep down… I was a killer just like him. He saw it in my eyes, and he was right. I don’t care that she’s dead, I’m glad I ended her.”
“You say that like it scares you.”
“I don’t like it,” she admits. “I don’t know who I am, Cassio. I think this is why we started the memory sorting and disassociation lessons. I don’t think it was just to help me clear my head from overwhelming information. I think Cole helped me bury the parts of myself that I couldn’t stand to remember.”
My poor girl, she’s so confused right now. Wrapping her up tight, I pull my wife into my chest and hug her hard.
Her next words muffle into my chest, but I hear them loud and clear. “I don’t want to forget this, I need to remember what I’m capable of.”
“I don’t want you to bury anything, forza. I want you exactly how you are. You don’t need to be afraid of yourself, or scared to make mistakes. I’ll always be right here to pick up after you.”
“You mean it?”
“Baby, until you started to look sad, I was seconds from kissing the fuck out of you. I like all the parts of you, feral murderous ones included.”
Her breath hitches. “Yeah?”
“Fuck yeah,” I agree, kissing the top of her head. “Why don’t you go shower off and I’ll make sure everything is set for my father’s arrival, okay?”
I reluctantly let her go when she agrees, and prepare to address my capo. As much as he is my father—and a good one—Dante Moretti is also my boss. He will neither yell or punish me or my wife, but our meeting will likely be a bit formal. We have rules for a reason, and trying not to break them is expected.
By the time they arrive, Ana has showered, erasing all traces of blood from her body. She’s wearing a pair of black leggings and an oversized crewneck sweater, with her still-damp hair braided on one side of her head.
I’ve set up Killian’s office that I’ve been using for the past few weeks, and my father, Apollo, and myself bring Ana inside to discuss the matter at hand. She doesn’t seem as gloomy as she became in the kitchen, which is a relief. In fact, she looks a bit angry again. Likely still upset with the woman whose life she took.
Dad takes a seat in Killian’s chair while I sit across from him next to my wife, holding her hand for support. Apollo surveys the both of us with an assessing stare, but his composure gives him away. Everything is going to be fine. If it weren’t already handled, he would appear more agitated. Apollo hates when things are out of order, and most people would never pick up on his tells, but I’ve known the man my entire life.
