Page 56 of Luciano

The water turned pink when she stepped in. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper.

She didn’t need to see me angry right now.

I knew the fundamentals of caring for someone.

"Look at me," I demanded.

She did.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her lashes clumped with dried tears.

I cupped water in my palms and let it trickle over her shoulders, washing away the grime, the sweat, the remnants of Matteo's touch.

Mine.

The word was a chant in my skull.

Mine to clean.

Mine to fix.

Mine to keep.

Mine to protect.

My phone buzzed again.

I should have killed Matteo after I killed his son.

I will not make that mistake again.

“I’m not blaming you, Luc.”

She said, as if shehad read my mind.

She wasn’t blaming me.

But she should’ve been.

I didn’t answer. My words were suddenly gone again.I just stared at the bruises on her skin like they were carved into me too.

I knelt beside the tub, soaped a cloth and dragged it gently down her arm, over the red marks on her wrists. Wiping away the blood, the dirt, and hopefully the remnants of what had been done to her. The cloth passed over a cut on her wrist, and she winced.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

Silence

I kept going. Careful. Methodical. Like every inch of her deserved reverence. Because it did.

I rinsed the soap from her skin, careful over every bruise. Every one of them was mine to make right.

“You’re safe now,” I said, trying to speak life back into her, but even I didn’t believe it fully.

Not yet. There were people I had to kill.

I pulled the drain in the tub and watched the dirty water disappear, then I helped her stand and turned on the shower to wash her clean.

When she was clean, I lifted her out, wrapping her in a towel as thick as a blanket. She swayed on her feet. I was sure it was fromthe shock and exhaustion hitting her all at once.

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