Page 59 of Vicious Redemption

Slipping out of my heels, I pad softly across the room to him. It hurts too much to stay away. To watch him hurting and do nothing. “Leo,” I ask tentatively, my voice small and uncertain. “How can I help?”

I place a hand on his shoulder, willing him to turn toward me so we can face this together.

He whirls, and my heart stops at the sudden hand around my throat. The snarl on his lips is almost as terrifying as the wrath in Leo’s eyes, and he completely blindsides me as he steers me backward until I’m pinned against the wall.

“Did you know?” he growls, the accusation in his tone making my stomach tremble. “Were you in on it this whole time?”

For the first time, I feel Leo’s underlying potential for violence directed my way.

It’s terrifying.

Cold adrenaline floods my system, making me shake uncontrollably.

“Leo, you’re scaring me,” I gasp, tears stinging my eyes as my heart stutters.

And though the hand around my throat isn’t hurting me—he’s not choking me in any way—I still can’t breathe as my terror grips me, making me freeze.

The fury vanishes from Leo’s face in an instant, horror and regret replacing it immediately as he seems to come back to himself. “Fuck,” he hisses as he withdraws his hand like my skin suddenly burned him. He steps away from me like he doesn’t trust himself to be so close.

In the next moment, he slumps into the overstuffed reading chair that sits in the corner. And to my astonishment, he drops his head into his hands and starts to cry. It’s the soft, broken sobs of a man who’s lost his way. His shoulders shake with silent grief, tearing at my heart. Pain rolls off of Leo in waves, a torture that frightens me as much as it makes me want to cry.

Sitting gingerly on the floor by his feet, I want to comfort him, but I’m scared to touch him. Like one might approach a wild animal caught in a trap, I watch closely, creeping nearer but not daring to come the whole way. “Leo?” I murmur tearfully.

He pulls himself together quickly, lifting his head to look at me with bloodshot eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tia. I didn’t mean… I never should have touched you like that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like I’m going insane.”

“You’re not,” I assure him, though I’ve had that very thought myself. I could see it in his eyes earlier. I should have known he might be dangerous. But I’ve never genuinely feared for my life like that before. Not even after I witnessed him blow a man’s brains out in the woods.

That day, I thought he might kill me if I didn’t run. But it would be a logical decision, a painless death brought on by my being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Feeling his unbridled rage as he held my life in his hands just now? He felt wild and powerful enough to rip me to shreds.

Now, he just looks agonized for having touched me in his crazed state. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. I’ve lost the one man I could rely on to be honest with me—even if he knew I wouldn’t like the answer. My father was the only person who truly had my back…” He swallows convulsively, hanging his head as his curls cascade over his forehead. “But it’s no excuse for handling you roughly. If I hurt you…” He holds his hands palm up, looking at them like they, too, have betrayed him.

My heart throbs, and I quickly brush away the tears that threaten to escape my eyes. “You didn’t hurt me,” I assure him. “Just scared me, is all.”

He nods, his face filled with remorse.

“Leo, you can trust me,” I promise, scooting forward on my knees until I’m mere inches away. And though it makes my heart race, I tentatively reach for his open palm. “I love you, and will never do anything to break your confidence again. I swear I didn’t know.”

Our palms meet with a jolt of electric tension, and my stomach flip-flops with anxiety.

Then Leo’s hands softly enclose mine, holding me like he would an injured bird he wants to protect. His hazel eyes raise tentatively to meet mine, and in their depths swirls a tumult of emotion.

“Would you say that even knowing I intend to kill your father?” he asks softly, his low voice agonized. “Because I’m confident that Don Guerra had something to do with my father’s death. And this time, I will not show mercy.”

I know I can’t ask it of him again. If my father really did have a hand in Don Moretti’s death, then nothing I could say or do would possibly be enough to earn him another chance. I’m not sure I would want to if I knew for a cold, hard fact that it was true.

But after dinner with my parents tonight, I’m not so certain.

My father’s words sounded genuine. They sounded true to who my father used to be—that man who could see reason and rule with respect and mercy. And when Leo said Don Moretti had died, my father didn’t gloat.

He actually seemed… surprised.

Stomach in painful knots, I dare to beg for my father’s life one last time. “Will you at least wait for the autopsy? To get the full story? It could be a coincidence.”

“It’s not,” Leo states firmly. But still, his eyes soften as he searches my face. “But if that’s what it will take for you to make your peace with my decision, I’ll wait for the autopsy. Then I’ll get a confession from your father before I take his life.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, but I’m grateful he’s willing to compromise enough to give it time. Maybe he’s right. Maybe my father is just a villain, a power-hungry monster who would kill a man who’s defenseless and bedridden in the hospital. But I hope not.

For my sake and the sake of my four younger sisters, I hope that kind of cruelty doesn’t run in our blood.

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