Page 137 of Filthy Little Regrets

As suddenly as the shots tore through space, everything quiets. Gooseflesh rushes down my arms and spine. I shiver, heart threatening to jump right out of my chest.

“Relax, sweetheart, we won,” Vito says around his cigar.

“How do you know?”

He smirks. “Alec always wins.”

Swallowing the fear lodged in my throat, I nod, facing toward the house. “I’m going, Tony.” But I don’t move. I’m still clutching him, a balloon clinging to safety as the wind threatens to launch it into the atmosphere.What if Alec didn’t win, though? My family is cursed. Everyone I love dies and?—

“Come on,” Tony says, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the house.

I want to dig my heels in, to refuse, to spare myself the agony of seeing Mace covered in blood, but at the same time, I know I have to see him one last time. Vito scoffs behind us, a puff of cigar smoke billowing around us. It does nothing to calm my frantic heartbeat.

All I have to do is walk. Keep moving.You can do this, Cassia. The driveway is right there.I breathe through my nose, but the panic I’ve been pushing down is creeping upon me. Step. Breathe. Step. Exhale.

He has to be fine.

A tremble starts in my hands as Tony leads me toward the door, where one of Vito’s guys is waiting. Hope springs up inside of me, but I don’t let it take root, knowing how much it’ll hurt when it’s stripped from my body.

“It’s okay, Cass,” Tony murmurs.

As we pass through the door, through the disarray of shattered glass, holes in the walls, pillow stuffing, and blood, my gaze collides with shadowy blue irises that shatter my soul, break me apart, tear me into a million pieces, and put me back together again. A relieved sob wrenches from my throat.

Mace breaks away from Alec. My heart beats faster than it ever has before. I rip my arm from Tony’s grasp, takingmy first unsteady step toward the man I love more than breathing. Mace’s gaze scours my face, seeing every emotion I can’t even begin to describe out loud, and he quickens his pace. It’s then I realize he’s covered in blood. My eyes zip over him, searching for an injury, and even though I can’t find any, fear churns in my stomach.

I’ve never been a runner, but some baser instinct takes control of my body, and I make a mad dash for him. As I collide into him, he doesn’t even stumble. His fingers dive into my hair, clutching me to his body, and he says a dozen things I can’t even process. All I know is that his vetiver envelops me as tightly as his arms do, and his heart is still beating.

Running my hands over his body, I search for wounds, pulling back and moving my palms over his neck, which is coated in flaky crimson. But there’s no injury. It’s not his blood.

He’s still here.

He’s still mine.

He’s okay.

He’s okay.

Relief crashes through me, and adrenaline leaks from my body so rapidly, my muscles weaken. I barely manage to murmur, “Mace,” before I collapse.

forty

MACE

There’s never been a place for me in heaven. It’s for the good. The people who dedicate their lives to making the world a better place. I’m not that type of person, but as Cassia clings to me, her soft form pressing against me, I know it’s the closest I’ll ever get to nirvana.

She’s trembling so hard. As soon as I saw her heaving chest, her wide eyes, and the shake in her hands, I knew she was struggling. I hold her tighter, trying to rip the panic from her chest, but that’s not how it works. Sometimes her body is her own worst enemy. Her hands are all over me, as if needing to make sure I’m really holding her. She pulls back, those icy blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she inspects my neck, features softening the moment she realizes I’m truly okay.

“Mace,” she murmurs seconds before she collapses.

“Fuck.” I catch her, hooking my arm under her legs and holding her limp form in my arms.

“Well, that was dramatic,” Vito says with a shake of his head. “Fuckin’ women.”

Anger on her behalf claws through me, and it’s all I can do to keep from laying her down and punching Vito.

Holding my wife, I watch him stroll into the house, stopping beside me and taking a puff of his cigar and lifting an eyebrow.

“Alec?”

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