Page 90 of Ruined By Protection
"You can't kill him." The words tumble out of my mouth before I think it through.
Matteo's expression darkens. "The fuck I can't."
"Matteo—" Damiano warns but Matteo cuts him off with a raised hand.
"No, I want to hear this." He steps toward me, closing the space again, as his voice rises in frustrated rage. "You think this is kindergarten? That I'm going to give him a lollipop and tell him he must not continue hunting you and whoever you love? He attacked Evelyn to get to you. He's not going to stop because you're divorcing him."
His words are like a slap. Heat rushes to my cheeks and suddenly I see red.
"Don't you dare talk to me like I'm stupid," I snap, stepping in to him instead of backing away. "I know exactly what Elliott is capable of. I lived with him for two years."
"Then you should know?—"
"What I know," I cut him off, my voice trembling with anger, "is that killing someone, even the filthiest man alive, makes you no better than him."
The room goes silent.
Matteo's face goes completely blank, a mask sliding into place. His eyes, usually so expressive, turn to granite.
He nods once–a sharp, military gesture–then turns and walks out of the room without another word.
The silence that follows feels suffocating. I suddenly realize everyone is looking at me.
Damiano steps forward, his presence filling the room. Unlike Matteo's hot rage, Damiano's anger is ice-cold, controlled but no less deadly.
"Hazel," he says, his voice deceptively calm. "Come with me."
It's not a request.
I follow him into his office with trembling legs. He gestures for me to sit. I perch on the edge of a leather chair, feeling like a scolded child.
Damiano doesn't sit. He stands by the window, looking out into the darkness for a long moment before turning to face me.
"You need to understand something about this house," he says finally. "About us."
I swallow hard but don't speak.
"In this house we deal with men who disrespect children, women, or those weaker than themselves." His Italian accent grows thicker with emotion. "Men who abuse power. Men who believe they own people."
He moves to his desk, resting his fingertips on its polished surface.
"This might look to you the same as what your husband was doing to you," he continues, "but itfuckingisn't."
The curse word snaps like a whip in the quiet room.
"Elliott hurt you because he enjoyed it. Because he believed he owned you. We eliminate men like him because they will never stop. They cannot be reasoned with. They cannot be rehabilitated."
I wrap my arms around my waist, feeling cold although the room is warm.
"You need to rest, Hazel. You've been through hell." His tone softens, just slightly. "But we need to do what we know best. Because today it's you, and you are lucky to have Evelyn who happens to be part of this family."
He straightens up, his eyes hard as flint.
"But tomorrow it might be another woman in your position and she may be killed because her husband would take pleasure in beating the life out of her. And she might not have us to protect her."
His statement drops like a bomb. I hadn't thought about it in that way.
"When you spoke rudely about Matteo," Damiano says, "you included all of us."
