Page 68 of Bound in Promise
“I know. I’m going to make sure of it.”
“But—” My husband spins toward me, his face twisted in a blend of pain and annoyance.
“I can’t let shit like this go,” he warns. “Can’t you see how that got us here in the first place? I didn’t kill the motherfucker when I should have, when I found out he wanted to hold my brother’s debt against us, and he auctioned you off to some dickwad. A dickwad who, more than likely, planned to rape you while his wife slept in the next room. Did you want that, princess?”
“No,” I retort with a furious blush. “But I don’t want you to die, either.”
Dante scoffs at me. “Your confidence in me is inspirational, princess.” I snarl, mad as hell that he thinks I have doubts about him in this moment. “I’m not surprised you feel that way. I haven’t done a good job keeping you?—”
I tug on his shirt, cutting his tirade short. “Stop it. I’m not blaming you for anything. This isn’t your fault.”
“This is all my fault,” he argues. “If you hadn’t called Enzo, this would all be over. I’d be dead. You’d be fuck knows where.”
“Dante, please. I just want to be done. I want to walk away. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“If I don’t take care of Angelo, you’re going to be on the run until the fucker dies,” he informs me. “I don’t want that life for you. After all this, the last thing I want is for you to be looking over your shoulder every two minutes.”
“I understand. But I’m not willing to sacrifice your life for my peace.”
“I’m not dying.”
“Can you promise me that?”
“Yes,” he says confidently. As I feel his assurance settle over me, I also notice the serene silence that’s replaced the echoes of gunfire. “Don’t worry about me, princess. If I know my friend at all, Enzo has that fat fuck at gunpoint and is just waiting on me. It’s what we do, what we always used to do. I trust him with my life. I trust him with yours.”
The man is hell-bent on taking out the enemy and nothing I say is going to stop him. That fact hurts more than I thought it would.
I really don’t know why though. I convinced him to let things go with Liam after he kidnapped me and was going to let his junkie of a friend rape me and then he came back and made things even worse than they already were with Lombardi. Now we’re dealing with the current shitshow. If I had just let Dante handle things before, they would have never progressed to this now – with my husband being almost killed and me being sold off and almost raped again.
So, I’m not sure why I’m taking it so personally, but maybe he’s right. If Angelo isn’t dealt with, this is never going to be over. And we definitely don’t need a repeat, or worse.
And this is who Dante is.
He handles problems.
“Whatever you want to do, Dante,” I manage to force from my lips, fighting back the burn of tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.
His features soften slightly before a murderous rage transforms his chiseled features.
His fury, his desire for revenge is stronger than his commitment to me. I can’t change him. I told him I loved him, and he still wanted to ship me off to Paris. If I can’t get him to stay, then I have to accept that our story is truly coming to an end.
The man is beyond stubborn.
I guess that’s what being a lone wolf for too many years does to you.
“C’mon,” he urges, guiding me toward an open window. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
I go with him, giving up on explaining that all I want is for us to leave. I don’t want to look at Angelo again. I’m so beyond tired of all this.
I didn’t want to leave the States before, especially without Ellie, but it’s a future that I crave with all my being now. I’ll make the best of it and finish up school in France. Who knows when my best friend will be able to join me, but at least I can do the legwork of finding us a place for when she does arrive.
In the meantime, I’ll embrace the time alone as a chance to lick my wounds. To grieve the loss of my husband.
A husband who refuses to stay married to me.
22
DANTE
