Page 93 of Bloody Vows
I should have seen this coming. Should have known that she wouldn't just accept being locked up indefinitely, especially not when I've been treating her like a stranger. She's not the kind of woman who submits quietly, and I've been an idiot to think she would start now.
I’m halfway down to the beach when I get a message from one of my men—probably one of the ones who went with her.
Boss.There’s a problem. Man on the beach, speaking with Mrs. O’Malley. Moving in now.
My blood turnsto ice as I break into a run, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. If Sal gets to her, if he hurts her or the baby…
I can see my men positioned around the perimeter as I arrive, their weapons drawn but held low. They're waiting for my signal, waiting to see how I want to play this. I spot Simone immediately, standing near a bench with her back to the water. Even from a distance, I can see the tension in her posture, the way she's holding herself like she's ready to run or fight. And standing in front of her, close enough to grab her if he wanted to, is Enzo Torrino.
The man who was supposed to marry her before I came along. The man who thinks he has a claim to what's mine.
Rage floods through me, hot and consuming. I can't hear what they're saying from this distance, but I don't need to. The sight of another man speaking so familiarly to my wife, to the mother of my child, is enough to make me see red.
I signal to my men to hold their positions and move closer, staying in the shadows as I try to get within earshot, though I have every intention of firing them too, before this night is over. They should have moved in the second they saw him. But rightnow I need to know what Enzo wants, what he's planning, before I make my move.
"...told you, I'm not interested," Simone is saying, her voice carrying clearly in the night air. "My situation has changed."
"Your situation is that you're married to a man who doesn't give a damn about you," Enzo replies, and his words hit closer to home than I'd like to admit. "Sal’s been keeping an eye on you for me. He’s told me how you’re treated. Like a commodity. Like a possession."
She flinches at that. "That's not your concern," she says, but there's less conviction in her voice now.
"It is my concern. You were supposed to be mine, remember? Your father promised you to me before that Irish bastard showed up and ruined everything."
Enzo steps closer, and I see Simone tense. My hand moves instinctively to my gun, but I force myself to wait. I need to hear this, need to understand what's happening here.
"I can give you what he can't," Enzo continues. "Respect. Tradition. What you should have had before he came along and trapped you.”
"I'm not trapped," Simone says, but even I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. "He's protecting me," she adds weakly.
Enzo laughs, a harsh sound that makes my jaw clench. "He's protecting his investment. There's a difference, and you know it."
He reaches out to touch her face, and that's when I've had enough. I step out of the shadows, my gun drawn and held at my side.
"Get your fucking hands off my wife."
Both of them spin toward me, Simone's eyes wide with shock and something that might be relief. Enzo's hand drops from her face, but he doesn't step back.
"Tristan," he says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Right on time. I was just having a conversation with Simone about her options."
"She doesn't have any options. She's married to me."
"A marriage that was forced on her. A marriage she never wanted." Enzo's voice is calm, conversational, like we're discussing the weather instead of standing here with my gun drawn and his hand twitching toward where I’m sure his is waiting. "I'm offering her a way out."
"The only way out for you is in a body bag," I snarl, taking a step closer.
Simone looks at Enzo. “Just get out of here,” she snaps. “I don’t want any part of this. I know what we talked about, but I changed my mind. Tell Sal that. Tell him to find some other pet project before both of you get yourselves killed?—”
Enzo's face darkens at her rejection, and I see his hand move. I lift my gun in one quick motion, but not quick enough. Before I can pull the trigger, Enzo has yanked Simone in front of him, using her as a shield as he stares me down.
“Lower the gun, O’Malley,” he growls, and my jaw clenches.
“I have men behind me,” I snap. “Let my wife go.”
“I have backup too.” He smiles. “And I bet neither you nor your men can shoot before I shoot her.”
He has a knife in his hand, I realize. Pressed to the small of her back, a potential wound that, even if she survived it, would paralyze her. Would probably kill our baby.
For the first time in my life, I can’t move. I’m unsure of what to do, of what my next move is. And then I see the look in my wife’s eyes, the glint there, and I know Enzo has made the wrong choice.
