Page 127 of Wicked Rivals

My mind grew hazier, and my body throbbed with pain.

Luka’s eyes flashed with rage as he tightened his jaw and swung back a hand to strike me as he had at the school.

I couldn't control the flinch.

When he saw it, he smiled and dropped his hand.

As if he’d won.

Shit. Maybe he had.

“No, that’s not it,” he said. “It’s because her father wouldn't allow her to marry someone she loved. Instead, he sold her like a prized pig. So I moved on, and I thought for a time that maybe you were the kind of woman who could cherish this home.

“You know, as a poor widow with a child, living above a café, I imagined you would appreciate a home like this.”

I needed to keep talking, to keep the conversation going, to stay in the present and not lose my thoughts.

“I already have a home,” I blurted.

Talking meant I could ground myself, which meant I could stay awake and be alert longer. If I lost consciousness, especially after all the blood I’d lost, I might never wake up.

Although I believed Stefano would take care of Enzo, that wasn’t the life I wanted for my son.

Enzo and Stefano knew each other now, making it impossible to put the genie back in the bottle. That had no bearing on my aversion to handing Stefano the reins. He would not be the one deciding how to raise my son.

So I needed to fight.

And I needed to remember who I fought for.

My grandmother had always said, pain reminded us that we were still alive. When we felt pain, we had to remember why we pressed onward, why we continued fighting.

I pressed my hand against the bullet wound on my upper arm, trying to staunch the bleeding again.

And to feel the pain.

The agony came roaring back, and it sharpened my resolve.

If the ensuing adrenaline burst woke me enough to keep my wits about me, I would take as much pain as I could get.

So I kept my hand there, pressing harder when my eyelids grew heavy, or when my vision blurred.

Luka dragged me through the horrible, decomposing house until he stopped at a wooden door with peeling paint. Once he opened it, that door yawned down a steep staircase, fading into the darkness below.

Goosebumps raised over my skin, covering my entire body as I stared into the abyss.

“No,” I whispered.

I tried to back away from the door. I knew what basements meant. People disappeared into them, never to be seen again.

“You don't get to say that to me,” Luka shouted.

In the next second, he claimed a fistful of my hair again and jerked me after him down the stairs.

My options were to be dragged down or thrown down, and I didn’t need a concussion on top of everything else, though I couldn’t be sure I didn't already have one.

I complied just enough to stumble down the stairs.

“What exactly do you want from me, Luka?”

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