Chapter 39

FREYA

Without warning, an ear-shattering scream left Luca’s mouth. He clutched his chest and his entire body shook as he bent down and began breathing heavily.

He seemed to be in extreme pain. Having no clue what to do, I just watched.

Luca shook his head violently and clutched his hair. He screamed “No!” loudly and fell to his knees.

This went on for a few minutes, and while it did I tried to come up with a plan for getting away from the crazy monster in front of me.

Had I caused this by saying I was going to leave?

~What the hell is happening?~

Suddenly, Luca stilled as he looked down, still clutching his head. And then his eyes snapped to my wide, frightened ones. That cold, steely expression was there. Bruzzatore.

“~Destino~,” he said, his voice stiff.

I scooted backward as far as I could as I looked at him through teary eyes. I brought my knees up and hugged them close to my chest.

Looking determined, he stood slowly and began to approach me. I whimpered when he finally came to stand directly over me.

I wasn’t sure what to say as he stared down at me. His eyes searched my face for something. Then he reached a hand up, seemingly preparing to hit me again.

I immediately brought my arm up in defense and moved away from the imminent blow.

“I’m sorry!” I yelled. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything! I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry…,” I sobbed.

But the blow never came—nothing did.

I sobbed for a few moments, not even trying to keep my composure. I felt completely broken.

“~Destino~,” I heard Luca say in a gentle tone that surprised me. I shook my head, not wanting to meet his gaze or for him to see my pathetic state. “~Il mio amore…~” he said with more force.

I looked up at him slowly and was shocked by what I saw. He had tears in his eyes as well, running soundlessly down his cheeks.

I’d never thought I would ever see Luca cry. And as much as he frightened me right now, I still hated to see him cry. He reached down again, and, this time, I didn’t flinch.

I watched in fascination as he placed his hand gently on my knee that was still pulled up to my chest. “Sorry,” he said with real sorrow lacing his voice.

Bruzzatore had never really directly communicated with me before. I’d see him always lurking just underneath the surface. When he did come out it was usually to take care of some threat. But now, I could see him staring clearly back at me, trying his best to tell me something.

I wasn’t sure if he felt any differently toward me than Luca did, but I found myself hoping that maybe a part of Luca still wanted me. “Do you still want me?” I asked him quietly.

Sadness shone in his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. Slowly, very slowly—almost as if he was afraid to scare me again—he brought his hand up to cup the uninjured side of my face.

He gently wiped away my tears.

“~Il mio amore~. Mine,” he said. He brought his forehead down and connected it with mine. “Mine,” he repeated.

That told me all I needed to hear. Luca might not have wanted me for anything other than sex and power, but Bruzzatore still wanted me for me.

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him close to me. I desperately needed to be comforted and told that everything was going to be okay.

He returned the hug with full force, wrapping his arms around my middle and then securing my legs around him so that he could pick me up.

He hummed deeply, his body vibrating against mine.

Burying his face deep into my neck, he kissed my brand softly, and my body shuddered.

He continued to hold me for a few minutes as I sobbed and released all of the emotions that I’d been holding in for the last couple of days. After a little while he started to move, and I clutched onto him harder, not wanting him to let go or for Luca to take over once again.

I held on to him so tightly, I forgot about my injured cheek and cried out as it connected with the side of his neck.

Luca groaned when he heard my cry—so loudly I could feel it. It was enough to freak me out and make me loosen my hold on his neck.

He immediately walked us over to his bed and set me down gently, moving back a bit so he could inspect my injured face. I wondered if I looked as broken as I felt.

After a moment of inspecting the bruise, he walked silently into the bathroom. When he came back out, he was holding a wet washcloth.

As Bruzzatore brought the cloth up to my face to clean my wound, I grabbed his wrist gently before he made contact and said, “Be gentle, please. I think my cheekbone may be broken.”

This made his entire body shake, and I could tell he was trying hard to rein in his emotions. He nodded once, then slowly raised the cloth to my cheek once more. I winced when it connected, and Bruzzatore groaned.

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,” he said over and over again as he cleaned my wound. I could tell that this was hard for him and that his apologies were sorrowful and genuine.

Once he seemed satisfied with his caretaking, he sat down next to me and pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms securely around me.

Finally, I built up the courage to ask what was on my mind: “What did I do wrong? What did I do to make him hate me so much?”

Bruzzatore groaned softly and tugged on my waist to bring me closer to him. “I”—he paused—“I, err…”

He shook his head, and I could tell that he was struggling to express himself. Bruzzatore was Luca’s way of dealing with moments of high stress and tension. All he knew was how to take action. Things like talking and expressing feelings other than anger…that was supposed to be Luca’s job.

He groaned loudly in frustration and tried again: “I… No. Sorry.”

I frowned. There was no way that he was going to be able to explain anything. He could barely get a few words out.

I sighed sadly. “It’s okay,” I said, not liking to see him struggle.

“Will you just tell him that I’m sorry? Tell him that I’m so sorry for what I did and that I hope he can forgive me. I don’t want him to be mad at me anymore. I want things to go back to how they were before.”

Luca shook his head violently. “No. No.”

“What do you mean ‘no?’ You won’t tell him?”

He shook his head again. “It’s not…” He put a hand on his chest. “Sorry,” he said. He patted his chest again. “Sorry.”

“I-I don’t understand,” I said. “What do you mean? What are you sorry for? It’s Luca who should be sorry.”

But suddenly Bruzzatore groaned loudly and clutched his head as his body began to shake again. He snapped upright onto his feet, and I fell off his lap and hit the floor. I groaned in pain.

“Stupid fucking idiot!” Luca yelled as he grabbed at his hair. Then he bent down and roughly yanked me up by the arm so that I was standing. “Whatever he did or said to you had nothing to do with me.”

My shoulders slumped and I nodded my head to show my understanding.

He grabbed my chin and pulled my face close enough to his that I could feel his breath. “You’re not going anywhere I don’t tell you to, you hear me? You’re my ~destino~.” He shoved me away. “Sleep somewhere else.”

I straightened up, trying to keep my dignity as I reached for the handle of the door behind me.

“And Freya?” Luca said.

I turned to look at him.

“Sleep there tomorrow too.”

I nodded and left through the door, closing it behind me.

Luca was right about one thing: I wasn’t going anywhere.

As long as Bruzzatore wanted me, I would be here. I knew now that something was wrong.

And I was going to figure it out.