Page 59 of Ruined By the Enemy
My hand trembles as I wipe at my face again, and I turn sharply toward Dom, horror ripping through the numbness like a blade.
“Why…?” My voice falters, then rises, raw and sharp. “Why did you bring me here?”
His brows pull together as he turns from the passenger’s seat. “What are you talking about? I said I had business here, didn’t I? Is there something else I should know?”
Yes.That this feels like a nightmare.Bile rises to my throat, stopping the words, and I yank the door open, almost tumbling as I rush out. I barely make it twenty feet before I’m on the ground, hands and knees, throwing up.
“Miss Greco?” “Miss Greco?”
I hear footsteps behind me, but the last thing I want to do is face Dom. He’s the reason for everything. His murdering, backstabbing family.
He shouldn’t be here. “Don’t,” I say hoarsely as I stand, holding my hand out. “Don’t come any closer. I don’t know what tricks you think you’ve pulled, but I’m not buying it.”
“Just—” My shoulders tremble, and I cover my mouth to muffle a strangled sob. “Just leave me alone, please.”
He nods and takes a step back, while I try to fight the dizziness in my head and the pain grinding through my chest.
I hear the sound of a car leaving, and it’s only when I can’t hear it anymore that I fall to my knees again, letting grief and the tears tear me apart.
***
Somehow, I lost track of time. Again.
After Dom leaves, I walk through the vineyard, barely feeling my feet on the ground or the leaves I run my fingers against.Nothing feels real—except the memories that cloud my vision with gray.
By the time I come to, the sun is already setting, its colors like beautiful splashes across the clouds.
My feet hurt like hell, but I keep going until I reach the old stone bench tucked between two gnarled vines. I sink slowly, the cold seeping through my clothes, penetrating the haze in a way nothing else has today.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, hands clasped. For a long moment, I stare at the dirt between my shoes.
The silence is thick and pressing, like the air is holding its breath with me.
My phone, my bag—I left everything in the car when I ran out.
Will he come back for me?
Probably not. After all, I acted like a child throwing a tantrum. He must’ve wondered why—that is, if he didn’t plan the whole thing.
“Am I playing blindly into his hands?” I mutter as I run my hands over the muddy splashes. I thought I’d finally figured it out… the dots were too close to be coincidental, but I don’t know what to think.
If Dom brought me here to see my reaction, why did he leave when I asked him to?
He could’ve stayed. Gloated even. Or maybe pretended to leave and returned under the guise of having work to do.
But it’s not Dom that bothers me the most. It’s my uncle.
He said he had to sell the vineyard when he took me to the States. Said it was the only way to keep me safe—that it was one more thing for the Morettis to take.
I believed him because this was the only place I’d ever truly called home. And I thought he gave it up for me.
But the crest on the gate, still carved in iron and proud with my family’s name, says otherwise.
He lied.It’s not the first time he’s lied to me, but this one—it fucking hurts.
Frustration curls through my chest like fire, mingling with sadness, choking me. I reach into my pocket, but my fingers close around the air, reminding me again that I left everything in the car.
Including every means of getting out of here.
