Page 137 of Ruthless Redemption

“Please.” I press my forehead to his back, begging him to understand. We can’t risk him breaking Lorenzo’s rules by murdering Emmanuel. I won’t let him steer his life back toward everything he’s tried to escape. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“What is she saying?” Emmanuel asks. “Is she pleading for you to save her? Begging for her life?”

Every second I remain here, I’m giving that monster more power.

“What are we doing?” Remy mutters under his breath. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m going inside.” I squeeze the hand holding my wrist. “Get whatever you need off your chest, because as soon as we have permission, this will be over.” I twist my arm from Matthew’s grip and maneuver between his brothers.

Lorenzo opens his arm to me, his guards protecting us with raised weapons as I’m hustled toward the pool.

My escape is narrated by the rustle of leaves from the canopy above, and the gradually dwindling caw of birds. My frantic heartbeat, too.

“Wait,” Matthew shouts.

I pause. Turn.

He storms toward me, gun clenched at his side, eyes predatory.

But it’s not Matthew anymore. The man stalking toward me is the Butcher. The savage.

Lorenzo gives us space as my face is cupped between a weapon and punishing palms, the ferocity of Matthew’s manic stare bearing down at me.

“Give me permission,” he demands.

My heart crawls into my throat, cutting off my ability to breathe.

I don’t need to clarify what he’s asking. He wants to end this now. Without our plan in place. Without Lorenzo’s approval.

“No.” I shake my head. “We do this the right way so you don’t have to live with repercussions later.”

“I’ll handle the repercussions.” He leans closer, his nostrils flaring as his lips hover so close to mine. “Give me permission.”

“No. You don’t have it. You’re not going back to that life.”

“I won’t need to,” he growls. “This is temporary. Salvatore will be in power. Let me end this now.”

I want to believe him. I want to trust that he can predict what’s going to happen. But I’ve made so many bad decisions in the past. I’m not going to do it again. If I can wait for closure, so can he.

“Talk to him,” I plead. “Get whatever you need to off your chest. Because the time is coming to end him. But it isn’t now.”

He straightens his shoulders. Raises his chin.

“Please, Matthew.” I inch into him, clutching his shirt. “You’rela mia vita.La mia anima. Il mio santuario.” I recite the words he spoke so reverently to me yesterday, trying not to wreck the beautiful language. “I can’t lose you.”

The Butcher wavers, my Matthew returning for a blink of pained vulnerability before the severity slips back into place. “Then you need to take this.” He grabs my hand, placing the gun in my palm.

I hesitate. “What if—”

He cuts me off with a harsh shake of his head. “If I have this, I’ll kill him. I’ll break my promise and do it without thought.” He smashes his lips to mine, his free hand clamping tight around the back of my neck. “But don’t worry—I’m handy with a knife. I just need to know you’re safe.”

26

LAYLA

Lorenzo locksthe door behind us, putting the key in his inside jacket pocket.

“Is that necessary?” I ask

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