Page 65 of The Villain
“I didn’t intend on leaving you down there so long. Believe that.”
“But you did, so I don’t,” I say, watching his big hands wrap around mine. Watching how mine disappear inside his.
“Tell me about this.” He’s still talking about my missing finger. He’s not stupid. And for all I know he’s cut off the fingers of little girls too except I know he hasn’t. I know he wouldn’t. It takes a special kind of man, a true monster, to do that and Cassian may be a villain, but he’s not a monster.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Allegra,” he says as if having read my mind.
I shift my gaze from his hands to his eyes and as much as I try to channel my rage, my rebellion, my hate, the way he’s looking at me, I can’t because I think on some level, some stupid part of my brain wants to believe him. Some stupid part of me wants to have those hands holding me. Wants his arms around me, carrying me so easily, like my weight is nothing. Like he can so easily protect me. Like he wants to protect me.
“I don’t want to go down there again,” I say with as little emotion in my voice as possible, but I hear how I sound, how like that fifteen-year-old girl locked in a room behind a steel door waiting for them to bring back her mother. Waiting in terror.
I look away, willing myself not to cry, not to let him see. I think I should brace myself for some cruel comment, some insult. A power play. But Cassian just keeps looking at me, his eyes so intent on mine that it’s hard to hold his gaze. He must see that too because justas I feel the burn of tears, as the first of them wet my lashes, he straightens to stand.
“I won’t put you down there again. I promise, Allegra,” he says, his tone firm. Not mocking. Not anything. Just a promise made. He wraps the towel around me and pulls me to my feet. “Trust that.”
We’re so close, our hands between us, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him.
I search his eyes. What am I looking for? His soul. I’m searching for his soul because I want to believe him. I want desperately to believe him.
“Trust me, Allegra.”
My mind reminds me, though, that men lie. A lie is so easy to tell. When the men who love you can do terrible things to you, what will your enemies do?
I blink away. I don’t trust him. I can’t.
He clears his throat. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me what happened to you.”
“I won’t.” I sound like a petulant child, I know.
His hands come to my chin, and he tilts my face up so I’m looking at him. “My rebellious little Allegra. Always geared up to fight. What bastard taught you this is the way to protect yourself?” he asks with a sad half-smile like he expected my response, but he’s also sorry about it. He releases me, steps away, checking his watch. “Let’s get out of here. Pack a few things, whatever you need for one night and one day. We’ll get you a dress for the dinner once we’re there.”
“I hope Jet will like it,” I say, not sure why, because I don’t care about Jet, but often, my mouth works fasterthan my brain and it feels safest to put Cassian on the other side of this boxing ring.
His eyes narrow as he focuses on brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I don’t move. I stare up at him trying to read him. It’s impossible, though.
“Careful, Little Moth,” he finally says, eyes locking on mine again. “That’s a dangerous game to play.”
18
CASSIAN
I’m standing in front of the fire in the great church waiting for Allegra to pack. I texted Angelo that I’d see him in Atlantic City after all.
I decided to attend and take Allegra with me in the spur of the moment. I wouldn’t normally attend any event organized by my stepfamily, but as I slip my hand into my pocket and my fingers wrap around the bullet, I know it’s a good plan. I’ll have them all in one place. I can watch them all and if I can see their faces, I’ll know.
So, I suppose the trip will serve a dual purpose. It’s me making up for the crypt. I shouldn’t have taken her down there. I should have handled that better because I didn’t intend on terrifying her. It’s also to make up for whatever that was with Jet. Why did I let him see her? I was crazed. Furious with rage at the thought of him touching her. But more at the thought that she may have wanted it.
I press my finger to the tip of the bullet in my pocket to force those thoughts away. I need to focus and so I letmy mind conjure up the images of the damage this bullet could have done. Which of my stepfamily sent a loaded gun to my two-year-old nephew? They out of anyone should know I’d kill them if they got near Seth’s family.
Enzo comes around the corner, tucks his phone into his pocket.
“I thought you weren’t going to go at all,” he says. I told him to get soldiers ready for an overnight in Atlantic City. “Why the change of heart?”
“I want to see my stepfamily,” I tell him, that bullet burning a hole in my pocket. I’m not sure of my plan exactly. Am I going to confront them? And who am I confronting? Severin? Sybil?
Jet?
Jet feels like a betrayal worse than the others.
