Page 56 of De Luca: The Saint

I glance at the massive picture above his bed. It’s me laughing. It’s not a photograph but an oil painting. I stand shocked as I stare at the image. When did he do this? It wasn’t here when we broke up. Is this how I looked when we were together? Was I ever really this happy? In the painting, my eyes shine with pure bliss. I snap myself out of my memories and continue looking for Damian.

Walking to his office, I turn the knob, but it’s locked. Is this what the key is for? I insert the key in the door, unlock it, and step inside. The image in front of me is now permanently seared into my brain. Damian sits on his office chair behind his desk, eyes closed, gun nearing his mouth.

I gasp, “Damian, no.”

He pauses but doesn’t open his eyes. My heart shatters, watching him. This is not the strong man I know. Damian has gone to a far darker place than I ever expected. I knew he was hurting but taking his own life?

“Put the gun down.”

Damian groans in pain, “Kitty Kat, even in my final moments you’re here. You shouldn’t be. You’re supposed to be off living your best fucking life.”

Taking a deep breath, I speak honestly, “I can’t live my best fucking life without you, Damian. Please put the gun down.”

As if he thought he was imagining me being here, his eyes pop open, wide with surprise, “Katherina.”

“Please, baby, put the gun down,” I cry.

His dark, broken eyes connect with mine, “This is how I make it right. Please go so I can make it right.”

I shake my head, “No. This is not right. Do you know what this,” I wave to the gun, “would do to your brothers? To me? This would be the worst thing you’ve ever done to me, Damian. What happened in that basement wasn’t your choice. This is.”

My initial instinct is to grab the gun from him and stop this, but I think better of it. I will never be able to physically overpower him. Somehow, I have to reach him with my words.

“Walking away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Damian. It still feels like I’m bleeding out. Please, I’m begging you to stop the bleeding.”

His gaze connects with mine, his eyes hold more pain than I ever imagined. I want to rush over to him and throw my arms around him and tell him it’s going to be okay.

However, everything I know about gun safety tells me that’s a terrible idea. I’d never forgive myself if he accidentally discharged the weapon and killed himself. As long as he’s talking, he’s not dead.

“I need you to go, Kat. Please don’t make me do this in front of you.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as I beg for his life, “Baby, I know how much you hate what you did. Don’t you get it? You saved me. Now, I need you to save yourself.”

He glances at me, still holding the weapon in his hand pointed under his chin, “I would’ve killed any man for doing what I did. Why should I get to live?”

The anguish becomes too much to bear, I fall to my knees in front of his desk as I sob, “Because I love you, Damian. I fucking love you. Don’t make me live the rest of my life without you.”

Tilting my head back I gaze at his handsome face, “Please.”

He sighs audibly, “Don’t cry, Kitty Kat. I fucking hate it when you cry.”

Slowly, he sets the gun down on his desk, “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

I walk over to him, push his chair back, crawl onto his lap, and place my hands on either side of his face, “Damian, I’ve already forgiven you. You were forced as much as I was. Now, it’s time to forgive yourself.”

He stares into my eyes, “What if I can’t?”

Leaning forward, I kiss him on the forehead, “You can, but you need therapy.”

He chuckles softly, “Mafia men don’t go to therapy, Kat.”

I raise an eyebrow, “I’ll be your therapy then.”

Shaking his head, he says, “You should go. I promise I’m not going to,” he glances down at the gun.

I understand his meaning, but I shake my head no.

“I’m not leaving you. The way I shouldn’t have two years ago, Damian. You will physically need to remove me from the building.”

---