Page 28 of Unholy Night
"Then I'll make her family."
"How? You going to marry her? Make it official?"
"Let go of my wife."
The word explodes from me without thought, without plan. Wife. Not girlfriend, not woman, not even mine. Wife.
Leo's hand drops from her wrist like it's been burned. He stares at me, then at her, then back at me. The gun is still pressed to his temple, but I might as well have shot him. The betrayal on his face is complete.
"Your wife," he repeats, his injuries making his voice thick. "You're calling her your wife."
"Yes."
"You've known her five days."
"Yes."
"You're insane."
"Maybe." I don't lower the gun. "But she's under my protection. Permanently."
Natalie steps back from both of us, cradling her bruised wrist. The marks are dark purple already, Leo's fingerprints painted on her skin like evidence. The sight makes me want to pull the trigger anyway.
"You would have done it," Leo says, wonder mixing with grief in his voice. "You would have killed me."
"I still might."
He laughs, but it's broken, wet with more than blood. "You're dead to me," Leo says quietly, and I can hear his heart breaking in the words. "Dead to the family. When Dom finds out youpulled a gun on me, chose her over blood…" He trails off, shaking his head. "There's no coming back from this."
"I know."
My chest feels hollow. Empty. Like someone scooped out everything that used to matter.
"Do you? Do you really understand what you're giving up? The family, the protection, the power, all of it gone. For what? For her?"
I finally lower the gun, but keep it in my hand. Ready.
"Yes."
The simple certainty in my voice makes him step back, forgetting his injuries for a moment before the pain reminds him. He sees it now. How far I've already gone, how much further I'm willing to go. The cousin he knew, the one who always put family first, is gone. In his place stands someone who would burn the world for the woman behind me.
"You're lost," he says, pressing his hand to his shoulder where the bandage is soaked through, his leg barely holding him.
Leonardo's face goes white, then red. His hand moves toward where his weapon would be, then stops. Even now, even with everything broken between us, he won't draw on me. The family code runs too deep in him, even as I shatter it.
"This isn't over," he says, limping toward his things, each step leaving a small blood trail from his leg wound. "And when Dom comes to clean up this mess, when you're both bleeding out, you'll wish you'd chosen differently."
He pauses at the door, has to lean heavily against the frame, his leg barely supporting him. Morning light catches his face, and for a moment I see the boy I grew up with. The one who took beatings meant for me. The one who taught me to shoot. The one who helped me bury my father. My throat closes up.
"Your wife," he says again, tasting the word like poison. "You really think that means something? You think claiming her with words will protect her from what's coming?"
"It means everything."
He shakes his head, wincing as the movement pulls at his shoulder. His grip on the door handle is white-knuckled, the only thing keeping him upright besides will. "You're going to get her killed, Tomas. And yourself. For what? For love? Since when do we get to choose love?"
"Since now."
Natalie moves closer to me, and I feel her presence like armor. Her hand finds mine, fingers interlacing despite the gun oil and blood that still stains my skin. The touch is deliberate, public, a claim of her own.
