Page 19 of The Heir
Roman's hand snaps around my wrist, blocking my blows. Gritting my teeth, I squeeze my knees together around his waist, forcing the air from his lungs.
"Is this how a man should act, Roman?" I yell as I throw another punch with my unencumbered arm. "Is it?!"
"Hey! Fuckers!" Melody stomps up the stairs and glares at us. "Take your catfight outside. I don't wanna hear it."
"Listen to yourwife, Dante," Roman sneers. "Let's take this outside and have afairfight."
Huffing out a breath, I swing at him one more time—the bastard blocks me, of course—before I release him and stand. The way he says "wife" sets another fire ablaze in my gut, and I want to tackle him down to the goddamn floor. I want to bash his brains in with a rock.Listen to your wife, Dante.Fury and disgust are still written across his face, and I can'twaitto wipe it clean.
Melnyk follows us outside, warily surveying the overgrowth around the seemingly abandoned cabin. "I do not like this, sirs."
It appears the other men agree with him; they've made themselves scarce. Most likely hiding in the underground bunker. Melody saunters to the door and slams it shut. Theclickof the lock breaks my heart just a bit further. But if Roman insists, I will beat out my frustrations on him.
Before I can even square my feet, his fist connects to my jaw with a throbbing, painfulcrack. The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth, and I spit crimson onto the forest floor. Roman smirks and winds his fist back again, but I catch it before he can make purchase.
"You motherfucker," I grunt and throw his arm away. "You want me to act like your version of a man? Fuckingfine." And I sucker punch him back, square in the jaw. His leg sweeps mine out from under me, but I snatch the hem of his jacket, and we tumble to the ground. Yanking his shoulders, I roll us over so I'm on his chest and start fucking pummeling.
Every hit feels so goddamn cathartic. For the past year, he's been snarky about Melody.She's got issues, sir.I ram my fist against his cheek.You're following her like a puppy.I let out a primal shout as my fist connects with his jaw again.Is that how a man acts?
Roman shoves his fist between my arms and pushes me back. I hit the ground ass-first. Before I know it, he's pinnedmedown and throwing punches. Blood bubbles between my lips, and I can't help but laugh. Sure, it hurts, but this isnothingcompared to the pain of knowing that bitch Ella beat Melody.
"Why the fuck are you laughing?" Roman snarls as he lands another blow. "Is that all I am to you? A joke? Just another drone to throw away?"
Sweat beads and falls from his brow, splashing onto my face. All of my muscles tense as I prepare to rip myself from his grip. Roman's boots dig into the softening dirt—it's springtime. My wife was in jail, on trial, through the winter holiday season. I didn't get to spend Christmas with her. I didn't get to kiss her at the stroke of midnight on New Year's. I didn't get to show her the ridiculous spectacle of the Mummers Parade.
Ella took that away from us. And Roman misplaced his anger atme.
He winds his fist back for another punch, but I snap my arm out and shove him away, just like he did to me.Jumping to my feet, I aim a kick at his gut and relish in the softooffrom all the air exiting his lungs.
"I thought you wanted me to act like a man, Roman? I thought you wanted this?" I growl as I rear my foot for another kick. He retches and gasps as my shoe digs deep into his stomach. "Is this man enough for you?"
I spit the last trickle of blood from my mouth onto the earth next to him as he groans in pain, then turn back to the cabin. Melody swings the door open for me, raking her gaze up and down my body.
"For what it's worth, I like you following me around like a dog." She sniffs. "You're well on your way to being my good boy again." She offers a tiny smile.
Huffing out a laugh, I shake my head and push past her. "Good to know. I'm showering now."
Melnyk and the other men look up from their card game when I clamber up the stairs from the bunker, freshly showered. Honestly, I'm not sure what to say to them, so I say nothing. Melody sits quietly on the couch with that horribly ugly cross-stitch she was working on before Ella stole her away. With a sigh, I plop down next to her and lay my head on her shoulder.
"Where's Roman?" I ask in a hushed whisper. She shrugs.
"Don't know. Out in the forest somewhere. He said he needed a break." My wife shifts and wraps her arm around me, tossing the cross-stitch project to the side. "Is that safe, though?"
"I don't know," I grumble. "He's mad. Probably hurting a bit, too. But if anyone can take care of themselves, it's him."
"Agreed," Melnyk pipes up. The other men mumble their assent and return to the card game.
I'd like to join them, honestly. But my wife's arms around me are a rare treat, and I intend to make as much of the situation as possible. With the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, my eyelids grow heavier. She's so warm. She smells nice—even here in this doomsday hideout—and the room is just so cozy. Fighting my second in command was more tiring than I thought it would be.
Though, to be honest, I never thought I'd have to. His behavior has been a bit strange ever since Valencia died. He assured me at the time that he didn't need anything special. He wanted to get back to work. To find who did this and punish them for it. I agreed, absolutely, but then Ella kidnapped Melody, and everything else went by the wayside. Perhaps he's angry I haven't beendoggedly pursuing Valencia's killer like he thinks I should.
Another pang of guilt roils around in my gut. He's right, honestly. But fuck his snide comments about Melody. I've let her murder a man for an offhand comment about her weight. I'll be goddamned if she has to stand by and listen to him sneer disparaging words about her, up close and personal.
Just as my eyes close for a dreamless sleep, the front door emits a softbeepand opens. Roman stalks into the cabin and approaches Melody and me. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I gaze up at his bruised and battered face.
"Sorry," he grumbles. "I'm pent-up out here. I was wrong to talk to you like that—andaboutyou like that, miss." He dips his chin to Melody, who nods.
"What's this really about, Roman?" Melody straightens herself, shifting me from where I've burrowed into her side. "What have I done to you?"
