Page 145 of The Wicked
My gaze settled on her hand on my arm before I slowly looked back at her. “Get… your hands off me.”
She drew back in fear, almost stumbling, but Casmiro held her upright.
Tears streamed down her face as she clasped her palms tightly under her chin in a praying posture. “Let her live, please; shedoesn’t—she doesn’t know anything about the painting; she’s not even born yet, sir.” Her lips trembled. “When—when she’s born—you can take me—kill me, butcher me, I don’t—I don’t care at all, but just—let her live, sir, please.”
My gaze flickered to her stomach, then back to her tear-stricken face.
I dusted where she had touched me on my suit, gathering my composure as my gaze briefly flickered to Casmiro, whose expression resembled a plea.
“… Grief is normal. You can’t stop people from feeling it by killing them.”
I glanced at the other soldiers in the room before looking back at Sofia.
“… You’re stopping them from a future they could have had. A life. Maybe even better than the one we have.”
I tried blocking out her voice.
I was suffocating.
I loosened my tie, trying to free its hold around my neck. “Then”—my gaze flickered to Casmiro, silently telling him to do the exact opposite of what I’d ordered, and then back to Sofia—“take the easy way out, Sofia.”
Her eyes widened as she looked up at Casmiro, then at me.
The air was suffocating me.
I looked away from the crying woman. “You know what to do, Cas.” He nodded in understanding. Then I turned and motioned at the other soldiers. “Clean up the mess.”
With that, I was out of the room, taking a lungful of clear oxygen, but it wasn’t enough.
Go back in there. Finish the job.
I brushed past men who cleared the way for me.
You’re making a mistake, boy; she will come back for you. Finish the damn job.
I chased the entrance like I chased death.
Go back now, Marino, yo—
I got out of the building, letting out a gasp of breath.
Releasing my shaky hands from my pockets, I flexed my fingers, walking towards my house in the compound with a fast-thumping heart.
I looked up when I rounded a corner and halted at the sight before me.
Zahra was there, wearing a black dress, pacing back and forth and glaring at the soldiers standing in front of my building.
She did a double take in my direction, almost folding over in relief.
“Thank fucking Jesus.” She looked back at the guards. “Please give me permission to kill these motherfuckers. I’ve been standing here for almost an hour, and I don’t think Street bought my ‘need to relax, headache’ story.” She looked back at me. “And I bet one of them is planning to burst into my room to find arranged pillows on the—” She stopped midway, her gaze searching my face as her eyes slowly widened in concern. “What’s wrong?” She advanced towards me.
But I met her halfway before she could reach me, taking her hand in mine.
“You’re coming with me.” I pulled her towards my house, right past the guards and into my space.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Elio
