" De Luca! We have your father! "
Alessio didn't even blink .
He fired . Two shots. The second man dropped. The third man dropped.
Silence again . Thicker this time.
" Liars ," Alessio said. His voice had no heat left . Just ice . The kind that burns .
He was still on his knees , gun up , chest heaving. Blood ran down his side in a steady stream . The stitches I'd done before were all torn . Useless now .
" Alessio–" I reached for him .
" Stay down " He didn't looked at me . He was scanning the doorway , waiting for number four. " They want you alive so they will wait ."
" My father's been dead six years ," He said suddenly. Talking to me or the bodies , or maybe to himself . " I buried him . I dug the grave ."
My stomach dropped. " Then why–"
" Because they want to see if I'll hesitate "
He Finally looked at me . Empty black eyes.
" I didn't "
He pushed to his feet using the bed frame .
His face went white with pain , but he locket it down . Caged it .
" We need to move now before the rest comes. "
He crossed to me and hauled me up . Not gentle . His hand was slick with blood where he gripped my arm . " Can you walk ? "
" Yes " my legs were shaking , but I'd crawl before I told him no .
" Good ." He shoved his gun into my hands again . This time he didn't wrap his fingers around mine . He just expected me to hold it . " Safety's off . Don't point it at me ."
A phone vibrated from his pocket . He pulled it and read the screen . Stopped breathing .
Then he turned into me.
A photo . An old man . De Luca eyes , tied to a chair . Blood on his face , but still alive .
Text below : Six years is a long time to hold your breathe son. – M
Alessio made a sound which I have heard for the first time from a humans mouth .
He threw the phone. It exploded against the weapons wall.
" He's alive ," He said , not to me but to the room . To the dead men . " My father's alive ."
He turned on me . Fast . Too fast for a man with two bullets in his hand. Bullets dropped on the floor . His other hand caught my jaw , tilted my face up . His thumb smeared the blood all across my cheeks .
Claiming . Branding.
" M is for Moretti ," He said. His voice shook .
With Rage , or something worse .
" They took him . Told me that he was dead . I have been fighting his wars , cleaning his mess for a ghost. "
His thumb pressed on my skin . Not hurting.
Anchoring . " I have to go get him ."
" You can't even stand straight . " I snapped . My hands went up to his chest before I could even think . His skin was burning . Fever or fury . " You will die before you would get into the car ."
" I don't care "
The rook was dying around us. Feathers from the shredded sheets still drifted down , catching in his hairs , on his shoulder , on the blood which wasn't dry yet . The air smelled like gunpowder and iron .
He swayed on his feet . Barely . Noone else would have noticed. But I was watching his body like mine . Because if he drops , I drop .
That was the deal I didn't remember signing .
" You think this is brave?" My voice cracked.
I hated that it did . " Bleeding out on your wedding night ? That's totally stupid. "
His laugh was quiet. " My whole life is stupid principessa! Marrying you was the smartest thing I have done ."
Liar . But the words hit anyway. Landed under my ribs next to his blood on my hands.
The morettis had his father for six years. Lied to him . Used him . And he'd build an empire on that lie .
Now the ghost is breathing , and Alessio De Luca was going to tear the world apart to get him .
" I do care! " The words came out from my mouth before I could stop them .
His eyes flared. Something dangerous and hungry lit up in them . His hand slipped from my jaw to my throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. Feeling my pulse hammer against his palm .
" Say that again ," He ordered . Quiet.
I should have lied . Should have shoved him .
Instead i doubled down .
" I'm not watching you bleed out for a man whom you already have buried twice. "
He laughed. One broken sound . Then his mouth crashed into mine .
No warning. No permission. Just heat, blood and tongue. He tasted like copper and vengeance . His free hand fisted in my ruined dress , hauling me against him . Against the blood . Against the wound . He didn't care .
It lasted three seconds , or maybe four .
Long enough to ruin me .
He ripped his mouth away , breathing like he'd run mile . His forehead dropped to mine . " You don't get to care about me , moglie . It will get you killed . "
" Too late ." I was shaking. Not from fear . From him . " You married me . You said 'mine'. Now deal with it . "
His eyes searched mine . Looking for the lie .
For the weakness. He didn't find it .
" Fine ." He stepped back . Cold again . King again . " You want yourself in my world , you bleed in it ."
He stalked to the closet and kicked it open .
Inside : all black . Suits . Shirts . Pants , on the other hand – Dresses. All my size . Tags still on.
" You bought this all " I said . It wasn't a question.
" I buy everything I want ." He tossed a pair of pants and a shirt for me . " Change . You can't run in it . And I'm not carrying you ."
He started ripping his own shirt off .
More blood . And there – below his ribs , on the back – second wound. Exit .
" You were shot twice ," I whispered.
" I was shot thrice " He didn't look at me .
" Third one's in my shoulder. "
He picked up a fresh shirt. Black . Like his soul .
" Five minutes ," He said . " Then we go get my father . And you stay behind me . Always."
He paused at the broken door . Looked over his shoulder at me .
" And principessa?" His gaze dropped to my mouth . To the blood he had left there .
" Wipe my blood off your lips , or the morettis will think I have already marked you as a widow ."
I didn't wipe it off .