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“You brought that bitch into our lives. Into our homes.”
I had.
Sebastian tore free. His rage had only grown wings. It sharpened, turning colder and more focused as he came at me again, undeterred, like nothing short of breaking me would be enough.
“I’ll fucking kill you.”
And still—I didn’t move to stop him.
“Do it then,” I choked. “I deserve it.”
Amid the chaos, the unmistakable voice of Vincent Caruso thundered through the space. “Jesus, what the hell is going on here, son?”
There was a stampede of heavy feet as three sets of hands threw themselves into the space between us. Marcel, Vincent, and Marcus grabbed Sebastian by the shoulders, the waist, the arms. They hauled him backward with everything they had.
He didn’t budge. He stayed glued to me, his fingers clawing into my throat. They yanked again, a chorus of deep, straining curses filling the air. This time they dragged him by his armpits. He kept kicking, his heavy boots connecting with my ribs as he fought the restraint.
Finally, Sebastian was ripped away.
I collapsed flat on the floor. My jaw felt entirely unhinged, a jagged line of fire throbbing with every beat of my heart. I rolled onto my side, coughing up a thick, dark glob of blood. I pressed my forehead against the cold floor, completely gutted.
“I’m so fucking sorry.” The words tore out of my chest, broken by a sudden, violent sob that rattled my cracked ribs.
Tears sliced hot, stinging tracks down my face.
A few feet away, Sebastian was a caged animal. He struggled against Marcus and his father. Marcel was holding a sobbing Tori. Every button on Sebastian’s shirt looked ready to pop with how hard he was breathing. His eyes reflected a hatred so pure it was chilling.
“Get your shit together,” Marcel hissed, slapping Sebastian across the face. “This isn’t helping. We need to focus on our Bellaruso. They planned to tell you tonight at the meeting.”
Sebastian startled. “What the fuck? You knew they were hooking up? You didn’t tell me?”
“Is there a Mrs. Caruso here?” a nurse asked.
Martina Caruso rushed forward. “Yes, that’s me. Someone called and said my daughter was attacked.”
The nurse gave her a grave but sympathetic look. “I have some questions and your daughter is in shock and refusing to answer. She is stable for the moment, but she needs surgery. Can you come with me?”
“Surgery?” I choked. “Is she okay?”
“Get the fuck out of here, now. You don’t get to know.”
“Son,” Vincent said.
“No,” Sebastian said, jerking away from his father before turning back to me.
“I don’t want to see your face again. Ever,” Sebastian spat. “You’re dead to us. And I swear you better not say another fucking word,” he growled at Marcel.
Sebastian turned and faced the wall. His back heaved, and Tori moved toward him. He crumbled like a small child into her arms. I held my ribs. The pain was excruciating now that a semblance of normalcy had settled and the adrenaline had subsided. I winced with each breath.
“Let’s get you checked out,” Marcel said, leading me away.
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
“You’re not.” He sighed.
He was right. I wasn’t. I’d never be again. My body was a symphony of aches and pains, but the emotional turmoil inside me was even worse. The guilt, the fear, the overwhelming sense of loss.
We navigated our way to the A & E department. Marcel approached the reception desk, explaining the situation to the nurse on duty. Her eyes flickered toward me, and she gasped. She took my name and waved to a row of chairs along the wall. I sank into the nearest one, cradling my side.
