Page 104 of His Dark Vendetta

I wanted him to pound me into the mats. I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted him to punish me for what I’d done.

“Fucking hit me!” I let my right hook fly; he blocked it. “I stole from you!” Jab. Jab. “I trashed your club!” Cross. Uppercut. “Anna almost died!”

Punch after punch, I swung at him like a rabid animal. He took everything I threw, his guard up, waiting for the next barrage. Sweat poured down his face and mingled with blood. It dripped down his neck in red trails that matched his eyes.

I’d clung to his legs, screaming, crying, my little fingers wrapped in the fabric of his pants. I’d held on with every ounce of my six-year-old strength, pleading with him to stay. I begged him not to leave me like my father had left me. Like my mother.

The remaining power in my blood surged like a tidal wave and the final wall crumbled.

“I hate you!” The ugly truth flew from my lips as fast and furious as my fists drove into his stomach. “You left me, and I hated you!”

He doubled over from the impact of the punches and my words.

Sweat stung my eyes. My arms burned with strain. The last vestiges of my power flared to life, and I swung at his temple with everything I had left. His head snapped to the side.

“You! Weren’t! Fucking! There!” I jabbed at Marco’s face with each heated word.

He took it all, absorbing my anger and hate until my arms gave out and my swings didn’t reach his face.

“You weren’t there.” My voice cracked, and my body convulsed.

Tears joined the sweat on my face, but I kept swinging, empty, feeble punches that Marco brushed aside.

He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into him, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“You should have been there,” I cried, my body shaking through each pained sob. “Why weren’t you there?” I struggled to break free, pounding my fists against his arms and shoulders. “You could have saved him. You could have protected him.” The side of my fist thudded against Marco’s tattooed shoulder. “He needed you, and you weren’t there.” I lifted my fist to land one final blow. “Ineeded you, and you weren’t there.”

My knees gave out. I sagged into Marco, unable to hold myself upright. He sank with me to the mats and wrapped his arms around me, holding me like a child. The pit of sorrow in my heart cracked open, and the loss and despair that lived there finally broke free. Uncontrolled sobs wracked my exhausted body.

“Nipote. Ragazzo mio.” Marco’s voice wavered with strain. He kissed the top of my head. “Mi dispiace tanto. I’m so sorry. The Lord knows how sorry I am. I’d give anything to bring Tony back. Anything.”

I shuddered and cried.

He pulled back and took my shoulders in his hands, holding me at arm’s length. “Luca.” His deep voice cracked over my name.

I sat back on my heels, shaking, and my arms fell to my sides. I stared at my palms, open and empty. There should have been something in them, something to hold onto, but there was nothing. I had nothing.

“Everything I loved that wasn’t taken from me, I destroyed.” I raised my eyes. Marco’s face was a mask of pain and guilt, and I couldn’t bear it. “I’m being punished for my sins.”

Marco’s eyebrows pinched together. “Luca. What happened?”

“I killed her,” I whispered.

“Who?”

“My mother.”

Marco’s face twisted in horror. “Mio Dio,” he whispered. He squeezed my shoulders and shook me. “Mio Dio, no. Luca, no. Lucia was in shock. She wouldn’t drink. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Papá loved her, and I killed her.” Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. “And now the only good thing that’s ever happened to me, my one chance at happiness…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She’s the only light in my godforsaken life, and I killed her too.”

“Chi?”

“Siobhán. She’s going to die, and it’s all my fault.”

“What are you talking about, Luca? What happened to Siobhán?”

“She’s pregnant,” I croaked.

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