Page 49 of Massimo

"You're a dead son of a bitch!"

Jerome takes Nova, and I launch myself out the door and into Damien.

His face is stunned as I punch him, snapping his head back, and blood explodes from his nose and split lip. "I will fucking. End. You." I surge into him again, slamming him back against the wall, my hands at his throat.

Chaos reigns. Gone is my calm and control. My levelheadedness has left the goddamn building.

All I see is Nova's terror and her spiraling into hell.

"Mass!" Gabe shouts as I choke the life out of Damien, whose eyes are bulging, and he's clawing at my hands. "Massimo! I think it's the guards in general… Remember, Gemma said they triggered Nova on the plane. Mass!"

But I'm too lost in my rage to listen.

I want blood. I want to hear his screams. I let go of his throat so I can hear those screams, and Damien coughs and chokes in a breath.

But before I fist his hair and drag him to the basement, there are small hands pressed on my cheeks.

I look down and find Nova has wedged herself between Damien and me. She's looking up at me, cupping my face.

"He didn't hurt me, Massimo." Her hands tighten on my face. "Please, don't hurt him. It wasn't him."

I snort like an enraged beast, still needing someone to pay for her hurt.

She pushes against me, and I step back. She's the only one I'll listen to right now.

Her eyes are a well of pain, but steady and strong as she faces me and protects one of my men.

This beautiful princess—who isn't broken at all, but who will be my equal in every way once I'm done nurturing her to heal.

My future queen.

Chapter 22

Nova

TherageinMassimois banked. It isn't gone, but it's no longer the nuclear, murderous levels.

Did he just attack one of his men because he thought he hurt me and was responsible for triggering me?

It's unbelievable, and I can't process it right now.

Like always, my world is off-kilter with Massimo. Lessons learned that I always relied on and tactics to survive are being pushed off the cliff and replaced with new ones.

"Princess, don't try to protect him if he touched you."

Not allowing myself to question it, I rise on my toes and pull Massimo's head down. Just as he's done to calm me, I kiss his forehead.

"It wasn't him or any of your men. It's how they're dressed…" I look away, feeling ridiculously stupid.

Who has a trauma reaction and is triggered by how someone is dressed?

Me, that's who.

Weak, stupid, idiot—

Stop. It.

Massimo's massive hand cups my chin—so gentle and careful, sotender—and turns my face back to his. He searches my eyes, and I don't hide from him. I let him see the truth of my words and the well of torment I've lived through.

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