Bella is hurt, and it’s all my fault.
Bella is hurt, and it’s all my fault.
Bella is hurt, and she’s leaning on Rico.
“You’re bleeding,” Bella says to me, voice hoarse.
I’m on my feet, taking long strides toward them. “Get the fuck away from her.”
Rico leaps up, hauling Bella with him before holding up his hands. “Chill the hell out, bro.”
“I’m not your bro. This happened because you two fuckers left her alone,” I snarl, as I pull Bella to my side. Exactly where she’s meant to be. Where she will always be.
“Stop treating me like a child,” Bella snaps and crosses her arms. Her voice lacks genuine anger with her shuddering breaths… She sounds broken instead.
Fuck.
“Not right now, Bella.”
“Fuck you, Roman,” she sneers, breath shuddering.
Roman.
She said Roman.
No. No, she wasn’t thinking about it that way. She’s just saying the name because it’s what she calls me when she’s angry. She doesn’t want to end this. Us.
“We need to get your inhaler. If they hadn’t fucking left you alone, you wouldn’t be hurt.” She doesn’t believe my words. Neither do I.
I can’t blame them when I’m the one who should have known better. This is the second time I’ve put her in danger.
“No. This happened because you brought me here,” she cries, then steps back to cough. “And look at you.” She waves at the gash in my arm, but I don’t feel the pain.
In the distance, the sound of a door crashing open has the two brothers snapping their heads. Bella doesn’t seem to notice or care. She’s too busy staring me down.
Rico throws my duffle bag at me, somehow getting into my locker while everything else was turning to shit. “Cash is in there.”
“Leave before more shit hits the fan,” Damien growls, already walking away with Rico.
I curse under my breath and reach for Bella’s elbow, but she yanks herself out of my reach. “I know where the car is.” With that, she spins on her heel and starts running, leaving me behind in the darkness. I follow behind her, fumbling with the bag to get her inhaler as the sound of her ragged breaths fills the night air.
If she thinks she can run away from me, she’s wrong.
If she thinks that one word will make me leave, she’s fooling herself.
I made her a promise, and I intend to keep it.
Chapter 29
ISABELLA
1） The romance authors lied. Real-life mobsters are scary, ugly, the bad kind of dangerous, and should not be romanticized.
2） I am beyond sick of getting kidnapped and all the emotional and physical bruising that comes with it.
3） Fuck Roman Riviera.
I realize there’s something off-kilter about my current state of mind, but I think it’s highly justified.
My face hurts. My throat is raw. My lungs burn. My ribs are probably an unnatural shade of purple.
In the span of three days, Roman-fucking-Riviera almost got me killed twice. No guns were involved this time, but the prospect of all the horrifying things the cartel could have done to me is far more terrifying than getting my brains blown out.
And it’s all Roman’s fault.
Sure, I’ll take part of the blame. Yes, I should have had Damien accompany me. Yes, maybe I would have heard the man come in if I didn't drink so much. Yes, I should have insisted not to come. But I’m not the catalyst for all this.
Maybe I should be distraught about thoughts of what ifs. Like, what if Roman didn’t save me? What if Vargas sent more than one man? But I can’t bring myself to truly feel the anxieties regarding the what ifs because what’s done is done, and tomorrow is another day where Vargas and his men still live.
“Riviera killed two of our men. And now, he gives us a pretty, breakable gift,” the man said.
Me.
The Vargas Cartel put a gun to my head two days ago because of Roman. And tonight, the Vargas Cartel almost took everything away from me because of Roman.
I even talked to him last night about the Vargas Cartel, and he still brought me to the arena.
Maybe I deserve all this for being a bystander in countless deaths and beatings. It could be the universe’s way of getting retribution for all the depravity I’ve inadvertently participated in. So maybe I’m not mad at Roman that it happened, but I’m pissed that he could have prevented it, and he didn’t.
After every trauma, I’ve experienced a different reaction. When I found Marcus and Greg, I was shocked about what I saw, but angry that Roman was back. Then, at the Horror House, I was scared and sad, and I only became angry when he started talking. Now? Sure, I’m shocked. Any person would be. But that’s not the emotion pumping through my veins right now. What will I feel the next time Roman puts me in danger? Acceptance?