Linda's POV
I woke up screaming.
Again.
The nightmare was always fucking the same—his hands on me, his breath sour with whiskey, my mother's shadow lottering in the doorway after. Not during. It's always after.
And she would stand there. She was always standing. Always fucking watching.
I sat up fast, gasping, sweat soaking through my shirt.
My left leg screamed in protest—the one I'd nearly shattered when I beat my stepfather with his own baton till it was physically impossible for him to hurt me.
Six years later, and it still ached like it happened yesterday.
Breathe, Linara. Just breathe.
But I wasn't Linara anymore. Hadn't been Linara since the holding cells.
I was Linda Marshall now and Unlike sweet kind naive Linara James...Linda Marshall was not a girl you fucked with.
I swung my legs off the mattress and sat there in the dark, listening to the rain.
Thinking about her. My mother. The woman who let a man crawl into her daughter's room and did nothing to stop him.
She knew. I know she knew.
I know she knew because I fucking told her the first time it happened. I got accused of being jealous of her happiness and her man. I was fourteen.
I was fourteen. And my mother did absolutely nothing to stop him.
And the rest of them? My aunts, my uncles, my cousins? They knew. Everyone knew. Nobody did anything.
And when I finally snapped, when I finally fought back, they acted like I was the monster.
He's your stepfather, Linara. You can't do that to family.
Family.
I almost laughed. Almost. If that was family, please label me an orphan.
I pushed myself up and limped to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. The faucet groaned as I twisted it, and I splashed cold water on my face over and over until I stopped shaking.
When I looked up, I caught my reflection in the cracked mirror—dark circles, hollow cheeks, eyes that had seen too much. I looked like hell. Felt like hell too.
Through the open door, I could see into the main room. The mattress was on the floor. There were pile of blankets. And Emilia? She curled up in the corner, one hand pressed to her stomach like she was already protecting something.
My chest tightened.
She was so young. So fucking young, and already the world had chewed her up and spit her out. Just like me.
But I had someone once. For one night, in a dirty holding cell, a girl with sad eyes had looked at me like I was human. Like I mattered.
Stick with me and I'll stick with you. She had said.
I'd been sticking ever since. Emilia Conti was my family.
I leaned against the doorframe, watching her sleep. Watching her hand move to her stomach again.
I made up my mind instantly. No way I stand idly like my mother did while she gets ripped apart.
No fucking way.
I'll save you, baby. Even from yourself if I have to.
Morning came, the rain finally stopped. Barely.
Emilia was awake when I came out of the bathroom. She was sitting on the mattress, back to me, shoulders rigid.
"Morning," I said, keeping my voice light. "You want the last of the—"
"Don't talk to me."
I stopped. "What?"
She turned, and the look in her eyes hit me like a slap. Hurt. Betrayal. Anger.
"You said you were going to shoot me." Her voice shook. "You looked me in the eye and said you'd put a bullet in my head, Linda. Some friend you are!"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Emilia, I—"
"You said it would be mercy. How's it mercy?! You said you'd rather kill me than let me keep my baby." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "That's not what friends do, Linda. That's not what family does."
The word hit me in the chest. Family.
He's your family, Linara. You can't do that to family.
I crossed the room and sat on the mattress beside her, not touching, just close.
"I am scared," I said quietly. "I am scared. The Marchettis kill pregnant women, Emilia. You know that. Paolo's wife—"
"Don't." Her voice shook "Don't you dare bring her up."
He's your family, Linara. You can't do that to family.
The voice rang in my head. I tried to block it out.
"I'm just trying to help" I reached for her hand. She let me take it. "The world is scary, Emilia. I am so fucking scared"
I let the tears drop down my face.
"I have been scared a long time" She reached out and wiped the tears away. "I can't lose you. You are my family. My soulmate. I will die for you, Emilia Conti"
I looked at her and she held my gaze. "Now, I have to do what's best for you, don't I?" I asked her.
"Luca is what's best for—"
"I found him."
Her eyes went wide. "What?"
"Luca. I found him." I squeezed her hand. "You are right. He's alive. He's been looking for you. I talked to someone yesterday who told me"
Her face changed—the hurt fading, something else taking its place. Hope. Bright and fragile and terrifying hope.
"We can go get him today," I said. "And then we can leave. All three of us. Get out of Little Italy, away from the families, start over somewhere they'll never find us."
She stared at me for a long moment. Then she threw her arms around my neck.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you thank you thank you—"
She kissed my cheek, quick and happy, and then she was up and moving, grabbing clothes, heading for the bathroom.
I sat there on the mattress, listening to the water run, and tried to ignore the weight in my chest.
He's your family, Linara. You can't do that to family.
She was so happy.
Bouncing around the safehouse like a little kid, packing her bag with shaking hands, talking nonstop about what Luca would say, what Luca would do, how Luca would look at her.
I smiled and nodded and helped her pack, and I didn't let myself think about it.
Because she was family and this is what family does. Protect.