Page 70 of A Murder of Crows

And then there’s the cloud. I felt it, felt it come over her even as she softened for me, her fingers gripping at my hair as though I was the only thing keeping her upright, yielding for my lips the way I need her to yield for me.

Something else is bothering her. Something that darkens her expression when she thinks I’m not looking. It hovered over us even as I drove us to the hospital, even as she let me curl my fingers over hers and keep them entwined on my knee. Her face turned towards the window, exhausted and a little lost.

I meant what I said to her. It’s a difficult game, loving Caterina.

But nothing worth having ever came easy.

She leans her forehead against his hand, whispering words I can’t catch as I turn away to give her some semblance of privacy, checking my phone.

I work through the messages from Rocco, the clipped response to my directions that tells me he’s not best pleased with me. I haven’t been as focused as I should have been in recent days, but withil bacio della mortelifted from Cat’s head, it’s an issue I can easily resolve.

As I flick through my notifications, my attention snags on an email, sitting unread in my inbox. Scanning it, I feel my brows draw down, even as my eyes move to Caterina. I read it again, taking it in, and then open a blank message. My fingers fly across the screen, my words brief but enough.

I’m taking you up on your offer.

Because despite the removal of Fusco’s death sentence, I can still feel the danger in the air. The update I’ve just read only hardens those suspicions, solidifies them into a knowing.

And it’s all focused around her.

My phone vibrates, and I glance at his response.

I’ll be ready.

I will allow nothing to happen to Caterina on my watch. Even if that means temporarily allying with Luciano Morelli to make sure.

Chapter thirty-five Caterina

Warm fingers tangle in my hair. “Caterina.”

Awareness is slow. Blearily, I raise my head, blinking to clear my vision, taking in my surroundings.

“Cat.”

There’s a cough, dry and hacking, and my head shoots up. Domenico is watching me, his gray eyes underscored with dark purple circles. Alive. “You look like shit.”

He closes his eyes as a gruff laugh escapes him. “You try being poisoned.”

Poisoned. Because of me.

His eyes open again, and he turns his fingers over where I hold his hand, interlacing them with mine. “Turn off that trail of thought.”

I stare down at our entwined hands.

“Dom,” I whisper. “I thought…”

“Give me some credit.” He half-smiles. “I’m made of stronger stuff than that.”

Blowing out a breath, I let my head sink into his side, breathing him in above the sharp, bleached medical scent. He’s still here. “You’re not allowed to taste my food anymore. I forbid it.”

He squeezes my hand in gentle rebuke. “That’s my job, Cat. If I hadn’t, then it would be you in this bed. If you survived at all.”

His voice is a little stronger, and the grim tone has me shaking my head. “So it’s alright for you to be here, but not for you.”

“That sounds about right.” He tries to shift, to pull himself up before he collapses back with a groan. “Jesus. Help me up.”

“Why?” Carefully, I slide my arm around his shoulders. A pained wheeze escapes him as he curls his hands into the bars.

“I’m discharging myself.”