Page 96 of Take Me Under

No, no, no.

Reality came crashing back, blindsiding me with the horror of what I’d just done. My grip loosened instantly, my breath still ragged as I stared down at my beautiful Italian princess.

“Serena,” I rasped.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Anton

Asob-like gasp choked from Serena’s lips. Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto mine, pulling me out of the abyss. My breath stilled, the room around me slamming into focus.

The moonlight filtering in through heavy drapes. The hotel. The suite.

The now.

Not then.

Jerry was gone. I’d made sure of that.

My arm was still pressed against her throat, her body pinned beneath mine. I trembled as I pulled away so fast, it was like I’d touched fire. A ragged curse tore from my lips, and I scrambled off her toward the edge of the bed.

I ran a shaky hand down my face, trying to force fresh air into my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. My skin was damp, burning and freezing all at once. Flashes of the dream—the memory—still clung to me like an unescapable tar pulling me down until I suffocated.

I quickly moved to turn on the beside light and dared a glance at Serena. She hadn’t moved. Her breathing came quick and shallow, her eyes wide as she stared at me in shock. Her arms were still above her head where I’d pinned them, as if she were afraid to move them.

My stomach twisted at the sight.

“Serena,” I rasped, my voice wrecked. “I—I didn’t?—”

The words died on my tongue.

This is so fucked up. What can I say to make this better?

She swallowed, slowly lowering her arms to place her hands over the reddening skin of her throat.

I did that.

I wanted to be sick.

Another tremor ripped through me. I had fought my way out of hell, built my life into something untouchable, unstoppable. But in the end, the past had always been waiting in the dark, preparing for the perfect moment to drag me back.

And now, she’d seen it.

I raked a hand through my damp hair and forced myself off the bed. My legs weren’t steady, like I’d just stepped out of the ring after a knockout fight, as I made my way across the room toward the wet bar. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured, watching the amber liquid fill the tumbler. Then I picked up the glass, my fingers clenching it tighter than necessary, and took a long swig.

Behind me, Serena shifted, the rustle of sheets cutting through the heavy silence.

“Anton… what happened?” she asked, cautiously.

I didn’t turn to look at her. I couldn’t. Not yet. I also couldn’t answer her at that moment. I needed a second to put the pieces together, to make sense of why the past had clawed its way out of the grave tonight of all nights. I thought about the little boyI’d seen earlier in the alleyway. Perhaps that had been the trigger. I didn’t know, but nothing else made sense.

I knocked back the rest of the whiskey in one swallow. It wasn’t the good stuff I was used to, but it would still do the job. The burn grounded me to the present, but it didn’t drown out the helplessness that had accompanied the nightmare.

It wasn’t real.

But fuck, it had felt real.

I turned back to face Serena, keeping my expression unreadable. She was sitting up now, the sheets clutched to her naked chest, but her focus never wavered from me. Her brow was furrowed, lips parted slightly as she searched my face for something I wasn’t sure I could give her.

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