Page 72 of Unruly Obsession
Lorenzo shoves my father to the floor. “He doesn't deserve mercy,” he spits at my father, who’s barely moving but still breathing. Lorenzo grabs my hand and pulls the gun away, relief washing through me.
My brother holds my mother’s shoulders as he moves them to the side of the door, giving us a wide berth.
I made the decision to leave my father and his antics behind, but stepping out of that room with Lorenzo doesn’t feel right.But I know if I don’t leave with him, he won’t leave at all. I can feel the roiling rage beneath the surface, and it terrifies me.
I’m not scared ofhim,but of how he loses himself to his own demon.
I feel like a traitor as I leave my father gurgling on the floor behind us. Regret and guilt flood me as I hear my mother cry out my father’s name as she runs into the room, and it pains me to know that even when his monster is on full display, she’ll run to his side. Or perhaps she’s too scared not to when the job hasn’t been finished. Did she linger at the door, in shock like me, because she was too scared to interfere with her chance at a way out? At a different life? Does my mother actually love my father?
I was certain my father wouldn’t stop this time, and as I stare at the back of Lorenzo’s wide shoulders, I can’t help but think what I might’ve done had he not stepped in.
Would I have run away or fought?
Either way, I’d be at peace because it was my choice.
Right now, though, I’m feeling anything but peaceful.
30
LORENZO
It’s not right. Walking away. That man should be dead, and I’m more than happy to serve his punishment. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly I’m certain I’m about to break it. The only reason I'm driving this car in the opposite direction from him is because she came with me.
Tonight doesn’t feel like a victory. Seeing her holding a gun to me, fear in her eyes, and tears streaking down her cheeks, I realized to her I appeared no better than the violent man her father is.
It changes nothing, however.
I asked her time and time again if he’d ever hit her. There’s no fucking way I will live in a world where someone hurts her, even if that person is her father.Especiallyif that person is her father.
The palpable tension rolls through the car until we return to my home on the water. The half-moon hangs in the night sky, along with the lights of the city reflecting on the water, but the evening is far from majestic. It takes every ounce of my willpower to get out of the car and walk inside with her.
Lily follows me silently, and I hate the barrier that's now between us. I already know how much she's pulled back from me, and maybe that’s because of the decision I’ve already made. There is no way Henrith Taylor will live until tomorrow. I’ll make fucking sure of it.
I beeline for the freezer to grab a bag of peas. I wrap it in a tea towel, and then I face her, getting my first real look at her since leaving her parents' house.
She’s a wild mess, her hair in matted chunks. There's a small cut on her shoulder from where the glass broke beside her. And then there's that giant red handprint stained on her beautiful face.
Something felt off the moment we left her in that room alone with Henrith. Call it instinct, but I had the need to check up on her, and I’m so fucking glad I did. I might’ve looked like a madman as I left her mother and brother in the garden and ran back inside, but had I not, what else would have happened?What if I hadn’t made it in time?
“Lorenzo.” Lily’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I realize the bag of peas has broken open from how tightly I was squeezing it, and they are spilling onto the floor.
I turn to the freezer for a new bag, but she catches both of my hands and brings them to her face. It’s as if she knows this is the only way I’ll stop and look at her, and it brings me to a standstill.
“Thank you for protecting me,” she says, and I’m taken off guard by her sincerity. She shouldn’t be thanking me. I think she’s showing me kindness in an attempt to talk me off the ledge. Or maybe she understands the intent I have to kill her father. “Promise me you won’t hurt him again.”
Anger bubbles from my stomach, not at her but at her unrealistic request. “Hehurtyou.”
I step back, the divide between us becoming wider when all I want to do is hold her. Whether she likes this or not, thatman doesn’t deserve to fucking breathe for another day. “He’s a coward for striking you. How long has this been going on for?”
Her brow furrows, and her expression distorts. Evidently, she's not satisfied with my answer, but she gently puts her hand on my chest and pushes me toward the sofa and then into a seated position, where she then sits herself on my lap. I need it more than I realize as I wrap my arms around her waist.
Fuck, do I need her.
I need her to be safe—no matter what.
She’s acting contradictory to what I thought she might. I expected her to hate me, seethe with vile words. Not even want to look at me, let alone let me touch her.
It does nothing to shake the knowledge of what I must do.
