Page 39 of Promise Maker

I’m still trembling.

I glance at his hand that he used to kill twopeople.

He seemed so comfortable. Emotionless.

Ignoring him, I climb out of the SUV.

Domenico touches my back.

I pivot and grunt, “Don’t.”

Frustration veils his features. “Those men wantedyou, Solari. I had to stop them.” He reaches for me again.

“Don’t…just don’t touch me right now.” I put myshaky hands up in defense.

He observes them and creases his forehead. “Do Ifrighten you? You’ve just witnessed the other side of me. Are you disgusted?You still feel safe with me?”

“It just…terrified me.”

“It’s what we do,” he says coolly. “It’s ourlife.”

“But why?” I yelp. “Couldn’t you avoid doingthat?”

“No. I killed men that screwed over my father,went behind our backs and plotted with enemies, and stole from our family whenwe would have gladly helped them.”

“But what if you just let them go instead oftaking their life? You don’t always have to kill, Domenico.”

Expression stern, he lessens the space between usand grates, “Nessunapietà per ildisonorevole.”Then he translates, “No mercy for the dishonorable. We uphold that. If we alloweveryone who betrayed us to carry on, our enemieswouldconsider us weak. My family would lose respect, and people would turn on us. Inthis world, Solari, Martelli stands for power, not weakness.”

I huff. “But at what cost? What areyousacrificing to uphold that power?”

He turns from me, visible tension in his back.

After a long pause, he says, “I have to report tomy father what just happened. Then I’m going to Palermo.”

“To kill more men?” I don’t hold the bite.

Domenico flashes me a harsh look. “To find out whosent those bastards here for you.”

He storms into the house.

Fuck. I didn’t mean to snap at him. I’m just sohorrified by all that’s happened.

My dad always protected me from this world. NowI’m in it, and I’m unsure if I can stomach the killing the way theMartellisdo. Perhaps once they catch my dad’s murderers,I’ll be able to go home.

Then again, Domenico said he’d never let me go.

Collecting myself a little, I mosey into thehouse.

Francesca and Mrs. Martelli approach me in themain entry. They’re both covered in worry.

“Miodio.” Francescatouches my arm, asking, “Are youallright? Nico toldus what happened?”

“I’m okay.”I’m not.

I glance at Domenico.

He refocuses on his father, saying something in ahushed tone.

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