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Would I watch as the love of my life got brutally raped by a dozen guys?

Fuck no. Which is exactly why I’m standing here, watching a completely innocent woman get violated in the worst possible way. The guy, though? Her husband? He watches without making a single sound. He doesn’t plead for her or himself. He’s accepted their fate. He knows neither of them is making it out of this room. He’s dissociating.Smart.

Two hours later, they finally let the woman die. My father is the one to do it, slitting her throat. That’s when her husband decides to scream again. It’s a feral sound, as if someone is burning him from the inside out.

I know I’ve already said it, but I hate her. Aurora. I hate her for making me have to watch this. I hate her for making me have to choose between her and two innocent fucking people. I fucking hate her for making me fall in love with her.

My phone vibrates with an incoming message.

SB:

How long do I have before they come for me?

My brows draw down.Why the fuck is she messaging me? And now?

Me:

They will never know it was you. I made sure of it.

SB:

Thank you.

Me:

I didn’t do it for you. Lose my number.

I didn’t lie to my family to protect Aurora. I lied to protect myself from having to watch what they were going to do to her. I did it forme. Because I can live with a lot of things, but watching her die? I can’t live with that image in my mind.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Earlier this year, I was under the impression that not being able to catch feelings for someone was a curse. Now, I know it’s the opposite. I’d do anything to go back to those cold, empty days. Anything to not feel the pain ripping through my entire body.

The doctor says I was drugged—something was in the beer Krystal gave me. I was stupid enough to drink it, even though Iknew better. I don’t care, though. Drugged or not, I broke us. I am the reason for the pain I’m feeling. Worse than that, though, I’m the reason for Connor’s pain.

Every time I look at my hands, all I see is Kenny’s blood. And then the disgust on Connor’s face directed at me. I can’t unsee it.

I stand and rush into the bathroom. I haven’t left Dante’s pool house yet. I can’t bring myself to go home. I can’t pretend that I’m okay when I’m not. And how do I explain to my parents that I’m falling apart because I finally killed someone and it didn’t feel good?

This was what I wanted. To feel something. Remorse, guilt, sadness. Well, guess I hit the motherfucking jackpot, because I’ve got them all.

I push down on the soap pump and cover my hands with the liquid, lathering it under the running water. I scrub at my hands but I can’t get them clean. I can still see it. The blood. It won’t come off.

“Whoa, stop. Aurora.” Dante turns off the tap before grabbing my wrists. “You’re fucking burning yourself.”

“I can’t get it off. I need to get it off,” I tell him.

“They’re clean, Aurora. There’s nothing there,” he says.

“The blood. I killed him. I killed us. Dante, I can’t fix it.”

“You’re a Valentino. You can fix anything.”

I shake my head. “He hates me.”

“He’s not worth your tears, Aurora. No one is worth your tears,” my cousin says. He pulls me against him, his arms wrapping around me. “You are going to be okay. I promise.”

I shake my head.I’m not going to be okay ever again. I don’t want to feel this.“I want it to go away. I want all the pain to go away.”