Page 64 of Crimson Tears

Now, I watch her sleep from my cell, counting her breaths to ensure she doesn’t die before we can get out of here. If there is one thing that this venture has taught me, it is that the dumb tracking bracelets I invested in are practically worthless in our world.

The moment we escape, I need to convince the two of them to get advanced trackers under their skin that won’t be affected by location or depth.

But thanks to Nessa, we’re going to find out soon enough whether her plan worked or not. I am not used to having my control stripped away from me. It is not something a man like me experiences often and definitely something I would not tolerate under normal circumstances. But here, I’m helpless. I loathe it.

Glancing over at Cillian, I observe him as he uses some of the rock he broke to pick at the wall based on where we think the panel to open the door is. He didn’t have to tell me his plan, it just sort of clicked when he began moving and I saw the hope in his eyes.

And now I have to find a way to trust him. Trust that he will get us out of here.

Cillian is careful to make sure his movements go unnoticed by the camera while also not making the hole in the wall too obvious. Which is smart because the men that come in here to check on us pay attention to detail.

Nessa’s body presses against the glass between us, huddled tight. I cannot even begin to fathom the amount of pain she is in. There are multiple areas of skin missing from her body where that psychopath ate them like a rabid animal. I thought I had seen it all until I witnessed that.

Cannibalism is savage and deeply depraved. It can break a person’s psyche very quickly, which is why it is rarely used. That, and only vile kinds of people enjoy that method of torture. The kind of people I would not choose to have on my team.

Torture is supposed to be an art. Tactical and methodical. You work to break down the body and mind. But there is a balance. Break down the body too fast, the information the mind can giveis not nearly as accurate. Break the mind too fast, and you are lucky to get anything at all.

From the way Nessa looks at the door when she is awake, I fear that point may not be too far off. As it turns out, watching someone eat your own flesh weighs on the mind much more heavily than one would think. It threatens to strip you of your identity, who you are at your core.

I glance down at my girl, trying not to picture the woman I attempted to walk away from. The ignorant part of me says I am unsure of why I did it. But another part, the much louder part, says I do.

I did it because I was afraid.

Fear is not something I am used to experiencing as a former mafia don. Sure, I have fears, but they are not easily triggered.

Yet, seeing my girl’s face as she came undone for her first love awoke a fear in me I was unable to deny.

My son lives a life of polyamory, and I swore that could never be for me. But seeing the way Cillian made her scream, I was afraid she was going to leave me. Or that I would have to explore something that made me feel vulnerable, something out of my norm.

Then, all I could see when she approached me after was her walking away to be with him.

I might have given them permission, but the two of them fit together so well, I had to help them see it. I just didn’t expect the effect it had on me to be quite so frightening. It was so awful I could hardly taste my pistachio milkshake, and those are my favorite.

So instead of facing it all like a man and working through it in a way that created security and love for her, I thought walking away was the best option.

It was not.

Not only was I unable to sleep the vast majority of that night, but the second I heard her car leave, I was afraid I had lost her forever. That was my awakening moment.

I can’t live without her.

I planned to tell her when she returned, but I found her fast asleep on Cillian’s lap on the couch. He gave me a look that said not to wake her and I silently conceded.

I hope she can forgive me. I will never forget her face as he stroked her hair. Her cheeks were red, eyes puffy even when closed. I caused that, and Cillian was healing it, soothing her so that she could rest.

In that moment, I was grateful. Grateful that she came back and that she had someone who stayed by her side. Cillian’s loyalty was terrifying at first, but the more I see what it means for Nessa, the more I want her to have it.

I have no idea how these kinds of relationships work, how to go about speaking to either one of them about it, or if they can even forgive me for what happened.

My only saving grace right now is that Nessa seems to divide her time evenly between leaning against our cells, as if she needs to feel both of us close. That alone helps me see how much she needs us both.

But it also brings doubt in my mind about me not being enough. I am not an insecure man. I do not need to be coddled or have my woman repeat to me that she loves me. Those things are nice, yes, but I do not require them.

However, I am beginning to see that my needs may be different than I originally thought when it comes to having another man in the mix. I need her to tell me she loves me so that I have the security that she does not plan to leave me for him. In some ways now, Iwanther to coddle me.

Nessa whimpers in her sleep and begins to shake before her eyes flutter open. I lean against the glass, watching her intentlyas her head turns to look up at me. Pain is written into every one of her features, but she lays her head back with a soft smile.

“I still love you,” she whispers, as if she could hear my heart calling out for those words. Cillian stops what he is doing and turns to us. I anticipate his anger, but all I see is adoration.

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