Devil’s Thirst: A Mafia Stalker Romance (The Moretti Men Book 1)
Devil’s Thirst: Chapter 38

I’ve never witnessed a drive-by shooting, but I imagine I got a glimpse of how it might feel. Sante’s whirlwind visit leaves me stunned. I can’t imagine what would have him so upset that he’d lash out like that. I play his words over and over in my head.

…families keep secrets from one another, which leads to people making bad choices…

What secret did Conner reveal to Sante? He must have learned something that upset him—something that affected his decisions. It wasn’t exactly his decision to move to Sicily, so I doubt it’s related to that. Something about his father’s death? Could be. Aside from that, the only thing I know he’s been involved with lately is me … and Talbot.

I lower myself back onto the couch, a chill setting in.

Sante has been working with Oran and the other Byrnes to take down John Talbot. They know he has video of Lina. They’ll be hunting for that video.

Stupid, stupid Amelie.

I never considered what else they might replace in that search.

My stomach seizes painfully tight, and I can’t hold back the vomit that rises in my throat. I run to the bathroom and make it just in time. I heave until my abs are sore, and nothing but acidic saliva is coming out. After I rinse my mouth in the sink, I sit on the cold tile floor with my back against the wall. Freya lies next to me with a gentle whine. I absently stroke shaking fingers through her soft black fur to comfort her.

…families keep secrets from one another, which leads to people making bad choices…

He knows.

That’s why he couldn’t look me in the eye.

That’s why he couldn’t stand to stay here for more than a minute.

He knows that I’ve been keeping a secret from my family, and learning the truth has made him regret coming back for me. It all fits too perfectly.

He knows the truth and wants nothing to do with me.

Pain unlike any I’ve ever known cleaves my chest wide open. I thought I’d known every form of pain before. As it turns out, there’s always a new and more devastating variation lurking in the shadows.

I hold my hand flat over my chest, where I’m sure a gaping hole must be because only a physical injury could hurt this bad. Surely, his rejection can’t be the sole cause of such agony.

Yes and no.

His rejection confirms my greatest fear—I am too damaged to ever be loved.

I am too damaged.

To ever.

Be loved.

I crawl to my bed and summon enough strength to climb up and under the covers.

I get Freya to join me. If my suspicions are right, Sante won’t be back.

Sorrow holds me in her suffocating embrace for hours before I finally succumb to sleep. I think I fought against the reprieve of oblivion because of a foolish refusal to cling to one last spark of hope that Sante would come back, but it never happens.

I wake at sunrise to replace Freya and I are still alone.

Being right has never felt so devastatingly awful.

“At least I have you, girl,” I whisper to my sweet puppy.

She licks my face, and somehow, it makes me feel the tiniest bit better. I know she needs to potty. I’d probably stay in bed all day if it weren’t for her. Instead, I force myself to take her for a short walk. It’s enough to get my blood flowing and my thoughts focused.

Today is my big opening night. My debut in a principal role with the National Ballet Theater. I have spent my life dreaming of this sort of accomplishment and refuse to let him or anyone else steal it from me. My heart may be broken, but that does not have to prevent me from dancing.

By the time we get back upstairs, I’ve embraced a newfound determination to quit being a victim. I may be hurting inside—I may feel like crumbling—but I have the strength to persevere. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.

I am a survivor.

Me: You up?

Lina: Unfortunately, why?

Me: I’m coming up.

“Come on, girl. Let’s pack our things. I think it’s time for a change of scenery.” Time for a number of changes.

I gather Freya’s bowls and food since she’ll need to stay with Lina while I’m at the theater. It’ll be a long day, and I hate to leave her alone. Plus, it’s a good chance for her to make friends with Violet. I also pack an overnight bag for me. I won’t be done until late, and I’d prefer not to come back here. Too many painful reminders.

“Lina’s going to think we’re moving in,” I mutter as I grapple with a rolling suitcase, the dog, and her giant bed. I want Freya to be as comfortable as possible after uprooting her yet again.

When Lina opens her front door, her eyes widen as she takes in the chaotic mess in front of her. I was feeling so inspired that I’m still in the clothes I slept in from yesterday and haven’t even brushed my hair. I may even have vomit on my shirt. Anything’s possible at this point.

“You have a dog,” she finally manages.

I give her a small smile. “This is Freya, and a lot’s gone on in the last twenty-four hours. Mind if we come in?”

“Puppy!” Violet comes running around the corner, startling Lina into action. She swoops up her daughter and gives Freya a wary glance.

“Sorry. Come on in. You just surprised me.” She relieves me of the dog bed and deposits it by the door. “Are you staying with us?”

“I thought I might tonight. I kind of need Freya to hang out here today and thought it’d be easier to crash here after the performance.”

“Of course, yeah. That works.” She stands, hands on her hips, still taking everything in. “So this is … Freya?” she asks. Violet strains toward the floor, wanting to get closer to Freya.

“Yeah, she’s a personal protection dog, but she’s super sweet. We got her yesterday. Picked her out especially because she was raised with little kids around unlike most of the other dogs.”

Lina looks even more guarded as she studies the large shepherd. I dig around in the suitcase and pull out the muzzle Cartwright gave us. The dogs are trained to wear them, so the apparatus doesn’t bother her.

“We’ll definitely use this until everyone is comfortable with one another. Or indefinitely, if that’s best.” I totally understand her concerns. A mother should absolutely want to protect her child.

My sister takes a relieved breath. “Thank you. She’s a gorgeous dog.” She puts her hand forward and lets Freya sniff her, then lets a still-straining Violet get her hand sniffed.

“She’s so well behaved, and I feel safe having her with me. I wish I’d thought of it before.”

“Where’d you get her?”

“Sante found some highly recommended breeder up in Poughkeepsie. You wouldn’t believe how much she cost.” An ache radiates through my chest at the reminder of how generous it was of Sante to get her for me.

“I was just having coffee—come sit with me and tell me how that’s all going.” She leads us to the kitchen, where she gets me a steaming mug with plenty of creamer, the way I like it. I keep Freya leashed at my side. Lina has a moment of indecision about Violet, but eventually decides to let her down. The toddler goes straight for the dog, of course, but I encourage her to be gentle, and Freya shows no signs of distress. After a minute, the opening credits start to run on the cartoon Vi has on TV, snagging her attention. She runs back to the living room, sees her breakfast on her big girl table and chairs, and completely forgets about the dog.

I look at my sister while she’s smiling proudly at her little girl. Lina’s such a great mother. She’s an awesome sister, too, and an all-around incredible woman.

I should have trusted her with the truth.

She could have handled it. I could have handled telling her. It would have been hard, but we could have gotten through it together.

There’s no time like the present.

Yeah, I know. Cut me some slack.

“Lina, I have something to tell you,” I say softly. “I should have told you from the beginning, but I didn’t want to cause you more pain when you’d already been through so much. And then the years went by … and there didn’t seem to be a reason to dredge up the past.” My gaze struggles to meet hers, replaceing solace in the swirling circles of creamer on the surface of my coffee. “I told you that I knew the name of the man waiting for me in that hotel room, and I did, but that wasn’t … the whole truth.”

When I steal a glance at my sister, her entire body has gone rigid, and ferocity intensifies her stare. She seems frozen in her unblinking state. A captive in a building she knows is about to come crashing down around her.

My chin begins to quiver, but not entirely because of the memories. My heart is aching most because of the pain I know I’m about to bring her.

“I told you I ran before he could touch me. I lied.” The last two words are hardly a whisper, barely more than a poorly formed breath. But it’s enough. The full impact of the truth barrels into her.

Her eyes slowly close, and her lips part on a broken exhale.

“Mellie Bellie, I’m so, so sorry,” she says before meeting my gaze with watery eyes.

“You did everything you could to protect me. You warned me Mom might try something awful.”

“I should have told you exactly what she’d done to me so you’d be prepared. I was too vague.”

I shake my head. “No, you can’t try to take the blame like that. That’s a big part of why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew as soon as it happened that that was what you’d warned me about and if you knew, you’d blame yourself.”

She reaches over and takes my hand in hers, a tear running down her cheek. “She promised me you were never to be touched. She promised me.”

Lina allowed herself to be raped when she was only seventeen when our mother threatened to substitute my six-year-old self if Lina refused. She sacrificed herself for me. I only found out the truth after I ran away to my sister—after I’d been raped, too. Knowing what she’d done secured in my mind that lying to her had been the right thing to do. How awful to know you voluntarily suffered something so horrendous … all for nothing.

“You paid the ultimate price for me—a piece of your soul—and I have no words to express the depth of my gratitude. You have been more of a mother to me than she ever was.” I have to swallow back the emotions threatening to steal my voice in order to continue. “I told you I fought back and ran because that was what I wished I’d done. That would have been worthy of you and the incredible example of strength you’ve shown. But, I didn’t fight. I let it happen, Lina, and I’ve been so ashamed of that.”

A sob breaks free, though I keep it as quiet as I can, not wanting to traumatize little Violet. Lina is up in a heartbeat, and then we’re locked in an embrace of shared pain and solidarity. We bleed tears of sorrow for one another, cathartic tears that seep into that years-old festering wound in my heart and finally starts the healing.

“Huggies!” Violet cries out before throwing her arms around our legs to join in.

The joy of innocence turns our tears to laughter. We pull away and wipe our faces. Vi takes her cue to run back to the living room for another bite of banana.

We sit back down at the table and collect ourselves, taking sips from our mugs.

“I’m glad you told me,” Lina says softly, “but why now? Has something happened in they guys’ hunt for Talbot?”

My blossoming relief withers back to solemnity. “I think so. Last night, Sante came home really upset. He said something about families lying to one another leading to people making bad choices. He couldn’t even look at me. I realized that in searching for tapes of you, they could have found a tape of me, too. I never even considered it might exist, but why not? That way, Talbot could relive the experience over and over,” I say with disgust.

“He couldn’t look at you?” Lina balks, her face contorted in disgust.

I shake my head. “He was there for a few minutes, lashed out, then left. He never came back,” I whisper. “I think it made him reconsider our relationship. I’ve struggled with … intimacy. I haven’t ever actually had sex since the rape.” The admission is embarrassing. I know it shouldn’t be, but it is what it is. “I’ve done other stuff, but when it comes to that part, I panic. I think he put it together and realized I’m more of a mess than he’s prepared to take on.”

She rises from her chair like a vengeful goddess, the kitchen lights even casting a glowing halo around her golden-blond hair.

“Fuck. Him,” she decrees with a pointed finger and a lifetime of wrath.

Violet jumps up and down in the living room. “Fuck ’im. Fuck ’im,” she calls gleefully.

Oran chooses that precise moment to saunter out from the bedroom. He looks at his daughter, then at us. “I miss something?”

Lina waltzed over to my suitcase. “Yes, lots. This is Freya. She and Mellie are going to stay with us for a bit.”

Oran looks at my dog, his wife, me, then back to his daughter. “Sounds good. What’s for breakfast?”