Page 78 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

I take another sip and close my eyes, but the tears still stream through. “Shh,” he whispers, leaning closer. I feel the touch of his calloused fingers on my cheeks, wiping them away.

“I’ve lost two of the most important people in my life in the past three years. Antonio and Professor Castellano. I’d hate to see you join that list. They meant the world to me, you know?” his voice, deep and gravelly, sears into my soul.

I open my eyes to see his furrowed brows almost touching my forehead. When he speaks again, I feel the air around us shift, his lips almost near mine. “I don’t want to lose you, Camela. I need to know the truth so I can protect you if you’re in harm’s way. Please, whatever it is, rip off the band-aid. I can’t have you in the ground too.”

His hands clutch mine with such possessive force that my fingers hurt. I pull them back and turn away my face. He pushes himself away from me, a flicker of hurt in his expression.

He doesn’t know I did this for him, because after what I tell him, he won’t want me anywhere near him. My heart breaks, shatters almost. He thinks he needs to protect me, when all along, it is I who unleashed the chaos in his world.

The greatest apology I can give him is the truth.

“I don’t know where to begin, Vincenzo,” I tell him. My voice comes out shaky and nervous. But, a small smile plays on his lips. He’s pleased with me. “But I think we can begin from the very start.”

He leans back and crosses one leg over the other, sipping his scotch, his gaze tearing into mine. "I was raised by a man known only as 'The Handler’.”

“At the orphanage?” he frowns.

My heart attacks my ribs, and a pain crawls down my chest and arms. “There never was an orphanage. I was raised in the woods somewhere, alone, in isolation with another boy by The Handler.”

Vincenzo’s face darkens as he realizes this story will be darker than he thought. “I never knew his name,” I continue. “It’s been kept a secret for he trained us both to become,” my voice hitches here, but I just rip off that band-aid, “assassins without remorse or mercy."

He pushes his chair further away from me, the horror he feels written clearly on his face. I pause, searching for the right words, the ones that might somehow soften the blow of what I am about to say.

But there are none. There is only truth, raw and unfiltered, and the hope that it will be enough for him to forgive me.

"Back when we first met, I wasn't just a random stranger who stumbled into your life. I was on a mission, one that I never thought would lead me here, to this moment.” I swallow hard, trying to buy time I know won’t matter, one last second, where we belonged to each other.

He leans forward, his voice cold and detached. “What was the mission?” he asks, stealing away the time I so needed.

I close my eyes and speak, my words a near whisper I pray he misses. “Vincenzo, I was the one who was trained and sent to kill your friend, Professor Julian Castellano."

He doesn't react immediately, but I can hear the subtle tightening of his jaw as he processes what I've just said. My heart clenches, fearing that this confession might be the end for us. But I owe him the truth – all of it.

“And… and I did,” I add, opening my eyes. “I killed him.”

Vincenzo's stunned silence cuts through me, a tangible presence in the room that chokes the life out of me. Seeing the painful betrayal etched on his face is a blade twisting into my very core.

He recoils from me, pushing his chair back further, his eyes narrowed. His hands are red, from how hard he clenches them.

"During my mission," I continue, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, "I discovered an ancient artifact – the golden arrow. The one your men are searching for. For the first time in my life, I stole something from a mission. I took it as a souvenir, but it became so much more.”

I look at his contorted face, and I am the cause.

“How many?” he asks, through gritted teeth.

A moment of confusion sways me from the point. “H..how many?”

“People did you kill?” he asks, even-toned.

Suddenly, I understand what he’s asking.

My hands tremble in my lap, and I force myself to take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. “I never killed your brother,” I say.

He sucks in air, through his nose, and parts his lips, letting it go. For a second, I think he’s relieved. I need him to understand, to see that despite the darkness of my past, my love for him is real.

“I never told the Handler I stole that arrow,” I continue. “He sent me out to look for it. He knew your relationship with the professor, how close you were. He thought you had the arrow, and he wanted it. I didn’t know you, and so I remained quiet. Besides, I couldn’t exactly tell the Handler what I did. The plan was to infiltrate your party, and kill you. The Handler would then follow in search of the object.”

“Then what happened?” he asks, refusing to look at me. His eyes are closed, like he’s trying to picture the truth I hid from him, and reconcile it with what I showed him.

---