I wanted to scream at them that I hadn’t suffered the way they thought I had, wished they would hate me, but I wasn’t brave enough for the truth.
“Next time you consider fucking with us, look at your niece, Dante, and remember how you failed her.”
Dante’s face was stone, but there was a flicker of something dark in his eyes.
I couldn’t meet their eyes. Burning shame sliced through me at what I had let Remo do, at what I had done. What I had wanted to do, what I still wanted to do.
Remo leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. “I own you, Angel. Remember that. You gave me a part of yourself and you’ll never get it back. It’s mine no matter what happens next.”
Dante, Danilo, and my father looked on the verge of attacking, their body’s tense, expressions twisted with hatred and fury. They wanted to protect me when I no longer wanted saving, couldn’t be saved because I was irrevocably lost.
I turned my head slightly, meeting Remo’s cold gaze. “I’m not the only one who lost something,” I whispered. “You gave me part of your cruel black heart, Remo, and one day you will realize it.”
Something flashed in Remo’s eyes. Those cruel eyes that haunted his victims’ nightmares … how long would they haunt me? Especially all the times they hadn’t looked upon me with cruelty or hatred but with a far more terrifying emotion.
Then he tore his gaze away from me to stare at my uncle. All I could think was that he hadn’t denied my words. I had Remo’s cruel black heart and maybe that was the most painful realization of all.
“Hand over Scuderi,” he said.
Dante gripped the rope that coiled tightly around a struggling Scuderi and dragged him toward us. I’d known my uncle all my life, but I’d never seen that look on his face. Utter fury and regret. He thrust Scuderi to the ground halfway toward us. “Release my niece, now,” he ordered.
Remo chuckled. This was a trick. This had to be a trick. Remo had said it himself: I was his. He owned me. Body and soul. He wouldn’t let me go. The worst was that deep down I hoped he wouldn’t—and not just because I didn’t want to live among the family I’d betrayed so horribly, but also because the idea that he could give me up so easily tore at me.
His dark eyes locked on mine, possessive and triumphant, and he leaned down. For a heart stopping moment I was sure he’d kiss me right in front of everyone, but his lips lightly grazed my cheek before they stopped at my ear. “I never thought you’d give me this look on the day I released you— as if giving you freedom is the worst betrayal of all. You shouldn’t want someone to cage you in. You should long for freedom.” He exhaled, his hot breath against my skin making me shiver. “Goodbye, Serafina.”
Remo released me then shoved me away from him. I stumbled forward, away from him, my heart thundering in my chest. Strong hands grabbed me and quickly ushered me away from Remo. I walked toward my family, my fiancé—freedom—but it didn’t feel anything like being free.
Dante was beside me and Danilo stepped toward me, reached for me, and I flinched, feeling unworthy of his touch after I’d betrayed him, betrayed the Outfit with Remo. Dante and my father both tensed, and Danilo lowered his arm and stepped back from me with a look full of utter hatred toward Remo. But Remo’s expression was the worst because when I met his gaze I knew what it said.
I own you.
I half fell into my father’s arms, and he hugged me tightly, whispering words of consolation that I didn’t catch, pulling me away toward their car. My eyes weren’t on him.
Fabiano loaded his father into the back of the car before he got in. With another glance at me, Remo followed and drove away. Drove away.
And again I shivered because part of me, the part that terrified me most, missed Remo.
I own you.
He did.
Dad got into the back of the car with me, still hugging me to his chest and stroking my hair, and a new wave of guilt overcame me. Dante got behind the wheel, and Danilo sat beside him. My fiancé glanced at me through the rearview mirror, and I ducked my head, my cheeks flaming with shame.
“You are safe now, Fina. Nothing will ever happen to you again. I’m sorry, dove. I’m so sorry,” Dad whispered against my hair, and I realized he was crying. My father. A Made Man since his teenage days. Underboss of Minneapolis. He was crying into my hair, right in front of his Capo and my fiancé, and I fell apart. I clutched his jacket and cried, ugly cried, for the first time since I could remember, and my father hugged me even tighter.