Page 96 of Dangerous Vows

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, his voice low. His delivery was so convincing that I almost believed him.

“You always say that,” I whisper, watching him. “But you never stay.”

He doesn’t answer, he rinses the soap from my skin, wraps me in a towel, and carries me back to bed.

And like always, he pulls away again after tucking the blanket around me.

And my heart goes with him.

This isn’t what I want.

This isn’t whatwewere.

With every day that passes, I fear he’s slipping away and that I’ll never get him back. I’m running low on hope.

Today,I wake slowly, tossing and turning, my father is yelling at me, and I’m doubling over from his punch.

I bolt upright, breathless. My chest heaves, my head feels heavy, and my limbs are stiff. The dim lighting in the room tells me it’s early—too early to be awake.

And yet I am. Nightmares wake me up most nights. I’m unable to forget what my father did to me.

Images of him yelling and kicking me make me shudder just thinking about it even now.

I blink, trying to piece together where I am. The walls are dark, and I’m alone again. Then it hits me. Pietro isn’t here.

Instinctively, I know he’s not home.

I close my eyes and press my palm into the dip of where he used to lie, as if I can hold on to the memory of us, as if my touch alone can bring him back.

He’s all I can think about. The empty bed is a harsh reminder of what I’ve lost.

The fact that we’re not together constantly reminds me of how ruthless my father can be. Physically, I’m back to normal, but bruised ribs are not a joke.

I listen for movement in the house. I hoped I wouldn’t be alone in this humongous house all day. But the silence mocks me.

Pietro is not one to hide from the enemy. He won’t cower in safety while his enemies lurk in the dark and his men are on the street fighting a war I started. Maybe that’s why he’s mad at me.

I started this war, and it sits heavy on my heart.

I assume he’s with his brothers and probably hunting Miloš, or closing in on Elio, grasping at proof my father put a hit on him so he can end him. I doubt he can justify taking out my father unless there is irrefutable evidence that he ordered the hit. He is my biological father, and yet, he did nothing to protect me.

I assume my father has feelings for me, but it’s not love because he’s a psychopath. I know they aren’t capable of emotions, so he’s always been a menace to me. I couldn’t imagine raising a child without loving it. I’ve always been on my own despite having family around me. Why should now be any different?

But it is. I know what it’s like to be with a loving family. I know what it’s like to have laughter and love fill a house. Pietro showed me what that’s like, even though I knew I’d never be a part of it. I want it.

I exhale as I stand. I press a hand to my stomach. It’s too soon to feel the baby bump, but it calms me. “I’m going to protect you.” My whisper is weak, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my baby safe. My baby will know love.

I’ve learned that going through the motions of the day, having routines, is good for me and my state of mind. It keeps my mind, and at times, my hands busy, which is a blessing in disguise.

My mental health is more of a concern than my physical health. I am trying to stay strong, but being in captivity is not easy. Living with Pietro, if it can be called that, is the most challenging feat of all.

To see him walk around the house with a scowl on his face, knowing he won’t share what is troubling him, is torture. I want to comfort him, I want to help him, but he won’t let me.

If men are following Elio, it’s only a matter of time before he gives them something, or so I hope—my mind races with what happens next.

Will the Borrellis hand me over to my father?

I vaguely heard the family talking about someone named Julia who is tech-savvy, and it sounds like she’s working on tracking the enemies through their cell phones and cameras. She’s looking for information to give the family intel on where to find Miloš.

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