Page 34 of Vows of Blood

“Then why didn’t you tell me about it?” Luca demands.

“Because of the ‘or else’ part, duh,” I hiss down the phone, holding it in two hands and shouting at the microphone like it’s Luca’s face I’m screaming into, and his neck I’m throttling.

There’s silence. “Did you just say duh to me?”

I’m as shocked as he is.

"I didn't lie.” I sigh. “I just didn't tell you everything." Weary and with bigger problems than Luca right now, I sit with a sigh and sink back into the couch cushions.

"That's the same thing,” he insists.

"It's really not."

As I watch Vito sniff the food and look at me accusatorially, telling me he knows some of his meal touched the pristine floor, I can still picture Luca perfectly, jaw clenched, one hand dragging through his dark hair the way it always did when he was frustrated with me.

Some things don't change.

"It doesn’t look good, Sienna. It looks like you were in cahoots with the shooter, staying quiet so he could get away." Luca pauses for effect. “If this gets out…”

My stomach drops. Could anyone really believe that I had anything to do with this? I have no reason to be involved. "It wasn't like that. Come on, you know me."

Silence on the other end. For a moment, I think maybe he understands, maybe he's actually going to listen to me.

"I thought I knew you, but people change." His voice hardens. "You need to help me find him before he finds you."

This again. That shooter has probably left the country by now. He’s not worried about little old me. Even if he was, how’s he going to find me?

"I'll help," I say. "By going to the police. Like a normal person. They can protect me."

The laugh that comes through the phone is harsh. "The police? Yeah. You walk into a police station, and he'll know about it within hours. He’ll know who you are and where you live."

I scoff. “This is real life, Luca, not a movie. You're just trying to scare me into doing what you want.”

Not that I’d admit it to him, but it’s working.

"I'm trying to keep you alive," he shouts, his control slipping. "But by all means, be stubborn. Don’t tell me who he is and wait till he comes for you.”

“I don’t know who he is!"

Am I saying it wrong? What about this part is so confusing?

Turning on his heel, tail straight in the air, Vito refuses his food and prowls back toward his favorite armchair, my offering firmly rejected. He’s going to have to get a little less precious if he’s going to survive on the streets.

"I know that, but they don't.” Luca’s patience is worn thin. “And by going to the police, by suggesting you have important information to tell them, you'll paint a target on your back so bright that every hired gun in the city will be able to find you."

"I'm just supposed to trust you?” The idea is laughable.

The only danger I’ve ever been in, the only bad luck I’ve ever had, has been because of his family. Twice now. Yet I’m supposed to think he has my best interests at heart? "No fucking way. Never again."

“Sienna–” My name is a warning. His composure is cracking.

“Don’t. Don’t pretend you give a shit about what happens to me." I hang up.

My heart is pounding, blood rushing in my ears, as I stare at the phone in my hand. It starts buzzing again almost immediately. I decline it. It buzzes again. I decline it again, then switch it to silent and toss it onto the coffee table like it’s on fire.

Fuck.

The apartment feels too small, the walls pressing in. I grab my jacket from the hook by the door and yank it open, determined not to be bullied into doing what he wants.