Page 88 of The Devil's Pawn

“Baby?” he says with so much tenderness, it nearly rips out my heart.

Thank God for the mist, because when he sees me, I don’t know what he’ll do. What he’ll think.

Will I disgust him? Will he turn away from me like everyone else in my life has?

“Dante?” I whisper, as though still caught in disillusionment. “Is that really you?”

A strong, masculine hand is on my shoulder now as the fog begins to dissipate, and when his face starts to clear, I find the familiar eyes of a man I’ve come to know. The one who deceived me, but the one who saved me too.

Even with everything my mother said about him and even with the rest I still don’t know, I know one thing: I can trust him. Not just because he’s the only one I have, but because he’s the only one who matters now.

“Baby…” His brows lower as his palm rests over my cheek, while his eyes fall to my naked body filled with the evidence of my cruel torture.

He pulls away, and my heart breaks. I feel even more exposed as I shiver from the lack of his warmth. I should’ve known he’d find me unappealing this way. I’ll have too many scars for him to find attractive.

But the next thing I know, a knife is at my wrists, cutting off the rope. He drops it on the floor before removing his black hoodie and the black t-shirt underneath.

He secures his shirt around a wound on one of my thighs. This one is actively bleeding, while the others have visibly slowed.

“Let’s put this on, okay, baby?”

His eyes swim with emotion while his gaze scatters over me, and his jaw twitches as he puts the hoodie on my body. It hits me at my upper thighs, thankfully keeping me concealed.

The people I heard with him are gone. Even Carlito isn’t here. He must’ve sent them into another area.

Scooping me up into his arms, he starts walking toward the exit.

“What he did to you…” He sucks in an angry breath. “I’m gonna do far worse. Believe that. I’ll make him know suffering. I’ll make him wish he’d never laid a finger on you. And from now on, no one ever will.”

I burrow my face into his shoulder, sniffling with a cry, wanting that more than anything. I want that son of a bitch to hurt. I want to take the knife he used on me and bury it in his neck over and over, until I no longer hear him taunting me.

I shiver. The depravity of my desire scares me, but I want it anyway.

“I have to see it,” I confess.

“See what?” He stops, his eyes boring.

“See you hurt him.” I swallow away the heavy throbbing in my throat. “I need it, Dante. I need the closure. Don’t take it away from me.”

“Baby, I need my men to take you to the hospital.”

“No.” My tone is harsh. “Please, Dante. I have—”

“Shh. Whatever you need, wife.” He lowers his mouth to my forehead; his tender kiss whispers down my body.

That word…

I cry, unable to still the waves.

“Does that mean you still want to be married to me?” His gaze sweeps over my face, dripping with an ache.

“Of course I do, Dante.” I lean into him, feeling accepted. Wanted. Loved.

“God,” he breathes out. “I’m so damn happy to hear you say that.”

I try to smile, but it comes out broken.

“If you want a hand in hurting him at any point…” he says. “If you need to do it yourself, I’ll have a knife waiting for you. I know all too well about revenge, and I’m not about to take that away from the woman I love.”

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