Page 93 of Savage Vows
“Yes.”
“Fine. Here’s mine.” She meets my eyes, and I see the vulnerability there, the pain, the fear. “I can’t stop digging,Dante. I can’t stop chasing the story. I need to know who did this. I need to understand why these girls died, why nobody cared enough to find out.”
I cup her jaw, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone. Her skin is hot beneath my touch. “I’m not your enemy, Adriana.”
She shakes her head, blinking back tears. “I want to believe that. God, I want to. But every time I get close to the truth, I find you standing in my way.”
There’s a long, charged silence. I watch as she struggles with what she wants to say, all that stubborn pride warring with the secrets she’s been carrying. She’s trembling, but she doesn’t look away. For a second, I think she might kiss me or tell me she hates me—maybe both.
My stomach clenches, her words hitting harder than I expect.
She looks away, then back at me, eyes shining. “God help me, I want you to tell me, Dante. Tell me the truth.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper, trembling with everything she’s been afraid to ask. “Did you kill them? Did you kill those girls?”
27
ADRIANA
The momentthe words leave my mouth, I freeze. I didn’t mean to say it—not like that, not to his face. But it’s too late to pull it back. The shock in my chest is mirrored on his face; for a split second, Dante just stares at me as if I’ve slapped him.
He takes a step back, the heat between us instantly cut by cold air. “What?” he says, his voice sharp, incredulous. “You think I killed them?”
Shame burns up my neck, but I can’t look away. I’m shaking, humiliated by what I blurted out, humiliated by how my body still aches for him even now. I want to hide, to run, to take it all back, but the words hang in the air, impossible to unsay.
I bite my lip, the sting of tears hot in my eyes. I can still feel where his hands touched me, my skin throbbing with the memory, the ache of want tangled up with fear and regret. I can’t believe I let things go this far, can’t believe I’m even standing here, asking the man I’m supposed to trust if he’s a murderer.
He shakes his head slowly, anger and disbelief mixing in his eyes. “Adriana,” he says, softer now, like he’s talking to someone he barely recognizes. “Is that really what you think of me?”
My pulse thunders as I face him. “You know what’s going on. Remik—your runner, partner, whatever you call him—he’s involved. Either you’re ignoring it or…” I can’t finish, the words catching on the lump in my throat.
“Or what?” His voice is ice. He takes a single step closer, jaw tight. “You think I’m the one dumping those girls in the river?”
“Aren’t you?” I fire back. “You move in the same circles. You know the same people. And every time I get close to the truth, I find your name tied to theirs.”
For a moment the room feels too small, too silent. He stares at me, muscles coiled, eyes dark and unreadable.
“Listen to me,” he says, each word clipped and steady. “I don’t kill women. I protect what’s mine. And right now, what’s mine is standing in front of me accusing me of murder without a shred of proof.”
He exhales, the anger beneath his control shifting to something else—something almost like hurt. “If you really think I could do that, you never knew me at all.”
“Prove I’m wrong,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can overthink them. “Help me find the real killer.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. He just studies me, eyes narrowed, as if he’s trying to decide whether I’m setting a trap, or if I genuinely mean it. I feel small under that gaze—exposed, scared, but determined.
He shakes his head, a dark sort of frustration crossing his face. “You want my help, but you don’t trust me,” he says quietly. “You’re still looking for reasons to blame me, Adriana. That’s a hard way to work together.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t know who to trust. But I know I can’t do this alone.”
He lets out a long breath, the tension between us still electric. He’s silent so long I wonder if he’ll just walk away. But then he nods, slow and deliberate.
“All right,” he says, his voice low. “I’ll help you. But if we do this, you tell me everything. No more secrets. You follow my lead, and if I tell you something is dangerous, you listen.” His gaze softens just a fraction, tired and raw. “I can’t protect you if you’re fighting me at every step.”
I nod, my heart thumping painfully. “Deal.”
He looks at me, jaw tight. “Where do you want to start?”
I straighten my shoulders, trying to hide the way my hands are still shaking. “Isn’t it obvious?” My voice barely wavers. I force myself to meet his eyes. “Portello,” I say. “It has to be there. That’s where it started for Anya, for Samie, for all the others.”
He just watches me for a moment, searching my face for any sign of hesitation. I feel my nerves jangling but I don’t back down.
