Page 41 of Wicked Union

"You will never be my leader."

Those words reverberate inside my mind until my eyes force themselves open to avoid seeing that hatred that bore down upon me. My throat is dry or I would speak. Instead, I lift myhand and rest it upon the back of Aria's head. She lies draped over my chest, arms extended to wrap around my torso as much as possible. I can see that she has tried to avoid the spot in my stomach that's so painful, but just the light pressure of her draped across me makes me grimace.

"Mia cara,” I whisper.

Aria sits upright with her eyes wide and a hand covering her mouth. “You're awake? Oh, my God, I thought you were dead. There was so much blood, Tito.”

“Shh, I'm here now.” I try to reach for her, but the small strain to my stomach muscles as I lift my arm up and extend it in her direction is enough to make me wish I had never woken up. She captures my hand and brings it to her lips, kissing it, and then lays it gently at my side where it relaxes and the pain lessens.

"Tito, I'm so sorry." There's apprehension in her gaze, like she has some reason to feel guilty or apologize to me. But I know I am the one who's guilty. I'm the one who should be apologizing. Her brother is dead because of me. Her father and mother are in the hospital. Their home is destroyed, and it will take years to rebuild.

My enemies have become her enemies—have become her parents' enemies. None of them deserve this. It was my selfish plot to try to assume control of something that did not belong to me. I brought this upon them all, even upon myself.

"Shh, hey, this isn't your fault. You don't need to apologize to me.” I wiggle my fingers, indicating that I would like to hold her hand, and she notices. She laces her fingers through mine and squeezes gently.

I'm beginning to remember more now. I remember her hovering over me with a gun in her hand aimed at my brother. I remember her firing several shots into that narrow hallway. I remember the look of rage in her eyes, the kind of rage that I have felt before when seeking vengeance for someone or something that had been wronged. I remember the way she fell at my side and held me, pleading over me, weeping onto my face.

"You don't understand, Tito.” Aria is sorrowful. Her head droops but she doesn't stop holding my hand. “This is all my fault.”

The silence of the room is only broken by the rhythmic beeping of the machine above my head. My heart is steady and strong, though my mind is confused. When I look into her eyes, I want to erase her pain. I want her to forget anything and everything that might be causing her discomfort. But I am beginning to remember even more now.

“Carlos… Did you…? What happened?” I study her with an intensity, hoping to draw answers from her expression, but she says nothing, and in that silence, I remember everything.

My brother flung harsh accusations against my wife. He told me that Aria is the one who set me up, that she is the one who partnered together with him to take me down. His maniacal laugh as he stood over me after having stabbed me with his gun pointed at my chest, it's something I'll never forget.

“It's true, Tito. I did everything he said.” There's a sadness to Aria's tone as she confesses to me what she believes to be her gravest sin. I can see it in her eyes. She feels guilty. “I was so angry with you. I heard you in that meeting telling Carlos and your cousins that you were going to take over my father's businesses and how you were going to do it. Our agreement wassupposed to be so that you would save my family, not so that you could take over my family.”

I listen to her carefully as she spells out every detail of her betrayal to me. In any other circumstance, the person sitting before me admitting this level of disloyalty and disrespect would earn death. But these words are coming from the lips that I've kissed so passionately, the woman I have loved so fiercely, and the heart that beats so boldly in my favor, so I can do nothing but listen. And I wonder how she can be confessing this to me after knowing that I am the one who killed her brother, by whose command her heart was destroyed. And I realize that all along, she had the power to break our agreement, keep my money, and set herself free while saving her family.

“Mia cara," I hum, reaching for her. I find just enough strength to reach up and cup her cheek. “You were angry. I did plot against your family. I did intend to take over. But I give you my word, I did not purposefully kill your brother."

"I killed my brother.” Tears well up in her eyes, and when she blinks, they creep down her cheeks.

“What do you mean, you killed your brother? That order came directly from my lips. Aria, this isn't your fault.” I brush her cheek with my thumb and wipe away a few more tears that escape.

“But I'm the one who leaked the information about that drug bust, Tito. Jasper knew nothing about it, not until it was done. Not until the drug bust was spoiled and you were angry. I called him in celebration that my plan was working. I wanted to celebrate with him because I was going to take you down from the inside, make you hurt and then break our agreement and go home to my family.”

Aria's sincerity tells me that she's telling the truth. Even after watching the pain she went through upon learning that her brother had been murdered, the grieving that she did that she still does, I can't find it in my heart to be angry with her.

“Then we're even. I've wronged your family, and you've wronged me. Either one of us could break the agreement. Either one of us could back out right now, and it would take a court of law to negotiate who got what portion of the settlement.” I brush her cheek again, and her eyes open and she looks into mine.

“What, then? Are you going to kill me the way you killed Jasper?”

“And kill the best partner I've ever had?” I don't know how to articulate what I'm feeling without sounding weak, without showing my hand, my vulnerability. “I am your husband, Aria. I love you. Can we put this all behind us now and simply love one another?”

She bursts into tears once again, draping herself over my chest, and I feel a crushing weight that makes me grunt in pain. I use every last ounce of my strength to wrap my arms around her and hold her while she cries. I'm never giving her up, not after everything we've been through.

I hear the swish of a door opening and I look up to see Sal pushing a wheelchair. My father sits propped by pillows with an oxygen mask strapped to his face. His eyes are more sunken than normal, and it appears he hasn't eaten in several days. He looks like he's lost even more weight.

“Well, you've done it this time, haven't you?” His tone of disapproval does not surprise me at all, but now that I know the truth, that Carlos has been working against me this entire timewith or without my wife, I'm now ready to stand against my father if it comes to that.

Aria sits up quickly and then stands, turning to face the imposing figure who has entered my room. I couldn't sit up if I tried, but she comes to my defense quickly, and I find myself nudged out of a conversation I'd rather not have, anyway.

"Mr. Ramiro, sir, Tito almost died. It was Carlos. I saw him myself. Things aren't what you think." She's flustered, and rightly so. My father would cut her down at the knees if he had the strength. She spoke when she wasn't addressed, and he hates that.

"Ms. Peralta, I?—"

"You mean Mrs. Ramiro. Or more rightly, Aria." Her determination knows no end. I can see the look on my father's face, and instead of being angry as I expect him to, he's amused, perhaps impressed.

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