Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
This whole city is going to burn to the ground when I’m done getting my revenge.
Chapter 28
Lucy
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Adriano says as Luca helps him to the couch.
I stare at my husband’s bloody shirt. He’s got a bandage shoved against his side, and it’s drenched and sticky. Luca looks almost as bad, though I think the blood on him is from someone else.
“What happened?” I ask, unable to move. Fear keeps me stuck in place. I’ve never seen so much blood before in my life.
“Ambush,” Luca says, his face hard. Then his voice softens almost to a whisper. “I should check the guys on duty and make sure none of them are loyal to Frank.”
“Take care of it.” Adriano nods at him, and Luca strides off.
My husband leans back. For a moment, his eyes flutter shut. His face is pale, and he’s clearly in a lot of pain. I’ve never seen this kind of violence before in all my life. Even though my parents were addicts and constantly getting into trouble, they never crossed the line into physical abuse.
I’ve been sheltered. Money and privilege all but guaranteed I’d never see anything like this in my life.
But I married a violent man. I knew it the moment I first saw him. And even though he’s a nightmare and a killer, I still want him, and I still need him right now.
I force myself to move. I’m not Lucy Willing-Morris anymore.
I’m Lucy Marino, the Don’s wife, and I have to be strong for him.
“How bad is it?” I say, rushing to his side.
“Not too bad.” He glances at me and smiles a little. “You look worried.”
“You’re shot.” I gently move his hand and look beneath the towel. There’s a single wound there. “Oh my god, Adriano. You need a hospital.”
“The doctor’s on his way.”
“You need an operation.”
“Then we’ll do it here.”
“This is insane. Adriano—”
“No hospitals,” he says sharply, staring at me hard. “Listen to me carefully. Frank tried to kill me today, and he might try again. We’re all in danger until we find him. Until then, we’re staying here in the house where I can make sure you’re safe.”
My heart races into my throat. Frank tried to kill him? The old Capo did this? But Frank seemed so kind and loyal, or at least he was always nice to me the few times I met him.
I try to imagine Frank shooting Adriano and find it almost impossible to believe.
But this is his world. Adriano’s life is blood and bullets. If I’m going to survive it and become a sharper, stronger version of myself for him, I have to trust him first.
“What can I do?” I ask, desperate to help him.
He only smiles and takes my hand. “Sit with me. Talk to me while we wait.”
“Should I tell you a story?” I ask, feeling giddy with terror. I can’t believe this is happening right now. My husband’s bleeding on the couch, and one of his most trusted advisors wants him dead.
“You can tell me anything you want.” His eyelids flutter. “Just so long as I get to hear your voice.”
“Stay with me.” I slap him lightly.
He smiles. “How’d you know I like it rough?”
“Because you’ve been inside me enough at this point that it’s pretty obvious.” I slap him again, a little harder. This time, his eyes open.
“Come on, wife. Tell me a story. Keep me distracted.”
“Alright, okay, a story.” I rack my brain, and for whatever reason, all I can come up with is the worst night of my life. “I was twelve when my dad died. I don’t know why I’m bringing this up now.”
“What happened to him?” Adriano asks.
“He was an addict. Both he and my mom used pretty heavily all my life. I understood at a really young age that they had a problem. Grandmother tried to shelter me from it as much as she could, but they were pretty terrible. They stole from her, stole from the family, and would disappear for days and days. Dad died during one of the rare happy periods.”
Adriano takes my hand. “I’m sorry you went through that. If I could go back and protect you, I would.”
“I know you would.” I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Dad was worse at hiding his addiction than Mom was. She tried to pull it together when I was around, but Dad always slipped up. There was this one week, though, this perfect little week, where they were both keeping it together. I’m sure they were high as kites most of the time, but they were hiding it and acting like parents. We went to the movies, they took me to the zoo, we did all that sort of stuff. We watched movies at night. Dad would nod off, probably from the drugs.