Page 43 of Promised

Each page was filled with… me. Images depicting memories we shared. The two of us standing under the moonlight when we’d been young. Still eager to believe we could make it out unscarred.

There was so much hope in her drawings. I could feel it coming off the page. Almost like she was trying to speak to me through them.

But as I continued turning pages, the images changed. They were still me, but they were darker. She depicted me dead. Blood running from my throat while a shadowy figure held a knife. She showed me walking away from a burning building, hood up, head down like I didn’t have a care in the world.

My fist curled around the cover. Guilt ate away at my heart, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing. I could feel how much she hated me in these pictures, and I knew I’d earned every drop of that hate. I needed to see. Needed to know how she’d felt.

I collapsed back into the chair I’d just left as I saw the next picture. It was still me, young, like when things had fallen apart. Only this time, I was smiling, holding a baby in my arms. After that, there was another, but the baby was older, and I was grasping his hand as he walked. In the next, I waited to catch him as I tossed him in the air.

My chest tightened as I realized what this was. She’d drawn me interacting with our child. By the dates on the bottom of the page, she’d done it every year on the day of her miscarriage. She dreamed of a future that was ripped from us.

But the drawing that gut me; tore apart my insides was the last in the book. It was the most recent. Done the day we’d seen each other again.

It was me. Unlike the others, she didn’t have to guess what I looked like. The image was photo-realistic, showing my new scars and tattoos. I held our child on my shoulders. He had a halo around his head. He looked about the same age our son would’ve been. We were both smiling. I was happy.

I couldn’t breathe as I traced the lines on the page. My eyes burned as I realized I hadn’t smiled like that since it had all fallen apart. Since her.

The chair smacked on the floor as I stood up. Tossing the notebook on the counter, I raced towards the front door. I couldn’t let her go. I wouldn’t. This was our second chance, and I couldn’t lose it. Lose her.

23

Adam

Ipounded on Gio’s front door. A second later, I hammered on it again until my knuckles ached. I didn’t care if I woke up that old fucker and everyone in this house. I wasn’t leaving until I talked to Ariella.

What I was going to say was another problem. She obviously didn’t want my apology, even if the words were on the tip of my tongue. All I knew was I needed her. I needed her to forgive me. To be with me.

I’d been half-living since we broke up. Killing to distract myself. Trying to believe I had a purpose, a reason to be alive. But it was a lie. She was my reason.

“Porcamiseria!” Damn.Gio growled when he finally whipped the door open. He wore slippers, pajamas, and a bathrobe trimmed in gold fabric. He was ruining the credibility of every killer wearing that outfit while simultaneously fueling every Italian stereotype. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to see Ariella.” I shoved past him.

“You can’t just come into my house.” He shouted as I raced up the stairs. I saw Zara’s eyes widen as she poked her head out of her room.

I ignored them both as I ripped Ariella’s door open. I’d seen it a few times when I was Matteo’s guard and had to check every home he entered. It looked the same as it did then.

There were no signs of her here as an adult. No computer on the desk. No clothes in the closet. No notebook or pencils. Nothing.

“She’s gone.” My head fell, despair settling in my gut as Zara confirmed what I already knew. “She got into a fight with our father and left.”

Something in her voice made me turn to her. She twisted her hands together as she glanced down the hall. When she was sure he wasn’t listening, she whispered.

“It was bad. H-he hit her. I’m scared he sent people after her. She said she had some video and was going to destroy him.”

Fuck! That goddamn video. She’d used it to get out like I’d wanted her to. But now it made her a liability. Gio was on the edge of either gaining power or falling apart. He could marry off Zara and align with someone new, or Matteo would take him out. That video could stop it all. Ruin him. He wasn’t going to allow it.

“Adam.” She grasped my arm. “I know you hate each other, but please, you have to help her.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond because Gio came barreling through the door, struggling to breathe from running up the stairs. Zara scurried out of his way, dropping her head to look like the compliant daughter she was supposed to be.

“I’m done with this,” Gio shouted. “I want a meeting with Matteo. I’ve put up with you for long enough.”

“Let me know when it is.” I sneered as I stalked towards him. I was going to snap his neck for touching Ariella. “I could use a good laugh. It’ll be hilarious to watch him throw you out of his office.”

“I have power here.” He postured. His face turned red as he glared at me. He was like the big bad wolf. Huffing and puffing, but in the end, he had nothing.

“You have power because Matteo lets you have it.” My voice was eerily calm. “And the second you’re not of use…” He flinched as I snapped my fingers in his face. “It’ll be gone just like that.”

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