Page 17 of Rotten Men

“It’s me, Dom. It’s really me,” she hiccups between tears and my own start to blind me from this glorious sight.

“Fuck!” I growl, holding her close, placing my head in the crook of her neck, savoring her scent.

I tried not to believe in the lies we told ourselves. That somehowThe Butcherhad gotten to her without our knowledge and had her killed before we could intervene. I never believed it, but as the years passed, I must have begun to, because what other option was there? That my girl left us all in the dead of night to live blissfully, not giving another thought to us or our pain? Death was cold comfort in comparison with such cruelty.

But here she is—broken and in my arms at last. Her sweet breath fans my cheek, and a burning shiver dances up my spine. She threads her fingers through my short, dark-blond hair and I relish each tender pull.

“You cut your hair.”

“Hmm. Let’s not start with the hair, babe. Or I’ll have some words of my own about the monstrosity you’ve done to yours,” I taunt, getting up and close to her new golden locks and taking in the familiar, vanilla aroma her naturally copper hair always held.

“Touché.” She chuckles between tears.

I lift her up from the ground, twirling my girl around the usually sullen room, like a love-struck fool.

“Damn, I missed you, babe.”

“Me too. So much,” she whispers in my ear, never once letting me go.

I wish I could freeze this moment and keep us both locked in it for eternity. How unkind this life has been; for me to have spent a single day without her in my arms; to have trudged on each day where her touch was absent from it. A malicious life forced on me, by the very one I can’t let go of now.

I place her back on to her feet, and put my finger under her chin, lifting her face so I can take in every change and still familiar feature she holds. My eyes wander all over her, memorizing each inch and comparing them to the image I have held dearly in my mind and tattooed to my heart.

“You’re even more beautiful,” I pledge, one hand on her curvier hip and the other on the nape of her long neck.

“It’s your eyes that fool you,” she falters, revealing that the damage she created also left her with scars where sight can’t reach.

“Nah, Red. It’s my heart. Always has been,” I declare sadly, finally breaking away from her and leading her to sit next to me on my office couch.

There is much I intend to say, and I’d rather have Selene off her feet for the long conversation to come. But if I’m honest with myself, I would gladly sit silently by her side, content in neither of us having to utter a word. Rehashing the past will only take the shine off this moment. Unfortunately, protectiveness speaks louder than my will to keep us in this enchanted limbo.

“It was risky, you coming here like this, Red. Someone might have seen you,” I explain, keeping her delicate hands in mine, perfectly satisfied with just stroking her soft skin for the time being.

“I know that,” she mumbles, leaning her head on my shoulder and allowing me to be as close as possible to the only girl I have ever loved. But my concern for her safety continues to take precedence to any loving caress I can offer.

“If your father gets wind of you being here, then what everyone in Chicago believes he’s done to you, he’ll make it a reality.”

“You thought my father killed me?” She questions, wide-eyed in puzzlement.

“We searched for you for two years straight. We searched high and low, Selene, and we couldn’t find a trace of you. After a couple of years, Big Sal ordered us back home and told thecapostheir services were better used to serve the syndicate needs on the street, not going after a spoiledprincipessawho was foolish enough to go against our code. But behind closed doors, he confessed to us a different reason as to why he called off the search. He told us that your father must have uncovered where you were and got to you before we could save you. It was the only possible explanation for an eighteen-year-old girl vanishing into thin air when she had never even been out in the real world before.”

“Not the only one,” she replies adamantly, and a slight wave of resentment slaps me across the face with the flicker of pride tainted in her words.

“Apparently not. You didn’t want to be found. Not even by us. Not even by me,” I reply back harshly.

She pulls away from our clasped hands and gently takes ahold of my scruffy face, pulling me toward her.

“I had my reasons, Dom. I know that doesn’t excuse the pain I brought you, but I’d do it again,” she explains with fierce certainty in her gaze, and my chest tightens with her blatant lack of compassion to our plight.

“Good to know,” I deadpan. Heartbroken, I pull away from her loving hold.

I stand up, looking down at her and wonder, when did I lose her for good? It was before graduation, that much is certain. But when? And how? A plethora of questions run rampant in my head, reminding me why I hate to be alone with my thoughts—they suffocate the life out of me.

“Dom…” she sighs, and starts to usher me to sit back beside her, but I don’t give in. Not when she can take it all away from me so cavalierly again.

“It’s all good, Selene. You went away because of something you don’t want to divulge, and now you’re back. But a betting man would wager that there is a reason for that too, only with this, you’ll be more forthcoming in telling me why,” I reply stoically, trying my hardest to invoke Vincent’s arctic way of dealing with all things Selene.

“You’re right. There is,” she informs me, standing up from her seat and facing me head-on without one look of remorse—enough to paralyze me where I stand and render me speechless.

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