Page 55 of A Beautiful Crime

I imagine Giuseppe is worried about my well-being even though he has no reason to be.

I can’t possibly explain to him how despite Constantine’s nature and reputation I inexplicably don’t fear him.

I feel safe with him.

See, something must be wrong with me.

He’s The Devil of the East Coast. The embodiment of darkness and sin. A feared man amongst monsters and yet I feel safe with him.

The wiring in my brain must be a chaotic tangled garbled mess that has short circuits and breakage.

Though, it is also not lost on me that I am simply being transported from one cage to another.

I’ve been in captivity for so long I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what to do with freedom if I ever had the chance to grasp my bloody fingers around it.

What is it like to live for yourself?

Where each decision is your own and the world is at your feet, bending at your will?

I had no thoughts of this since my rebirth.

Not until meeting him.

“La mia forte bellezza,” Giuseppe croons sadly. “What can I do?”

I offer him a smile, one that doesn’t reach my eyes yet strains my lips. I hope it comes off as genuine. Giuseppe, for all that he’s done for me, deserves a genuine emotion. Sometimes, like now, I wish I could provide him one.

“You can keep me in your thoughts. And if you would like your prayers,” I offer him the only thing I can and his face falls. “We both know what will happen if you try to interfere.” The grim fate of his death on the horizon.

He crosses the room with hurried steps, his body a ball of stress and nerves. Crouching down in front of me he clasps myhand in his own and gazes in my eyes with desperation. “You can run away. I can help you.”

“Giuseppe,” I say his name softly. “You’ll only be guaranteeing your death.”

“And it will be a death of honor.”

I tighten my fingers around his hand, hoping to reach to him through my touch. His eyes flick down to my fingers and there’s sorrow there. A deep sorrow that has seemed to be in his eyes for many years.

“I’m not worth your death.” And as I say the words I know it’s true. Even a dark soul can recognize one of light and beauty. And for Giuseppe to sacrifice his soul for mine. . .

It would be the most horrendous sin.

One you can’t be redeemed from.

One, even I could never do.

“I was too late with your mamma,” he whispers somberly, and the flare in my heart aches as he mentions her. “Viola was so close to escaping with you. If I had been-”

“There was nothing you could have done to help her, Giuseppe,” I tell him in hopes to ease him of his guilt. “She took her own life. Her mind was already set.”

He shakes his head sadly and when his eyes find mine again they hold a swirl of emotions I can’t comprehend. Not because I don’t understand them, but because I can’t understand why they’re there. It’s as if he has knowledge of a great tragedy I do not.

His mouth twists with agony as his fingers tighten on mine to the point where I fear they might break. “Carina.” He says my name gravelly, and with that I know what he is about to say will destroy me far worse than anything papa or Luca has already done. “Your mamma-”

Before he can continue a thunderous knock followed by the swift opening of my door interrupts him.

“Am I interrupting something?” Luca drawls as his eyes regard Giuseppe’s hand clasped in mine with disgust.

Giuseppe snatches his hand away as if it’s been burned, and raises himself up on the ball of his feet, backing away from me and standing primly as he should.

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