Page 17 of Depraved

“Don’t do that,” I bite out.

“Do what?” he answers, standing and making his way around the desk to where I am.

“Treat me like something fragile. I’m not that woman, at all,”

The strength in my voice isn’t surprising as I face him. It’s expected. I’m a survivor, and I won’t have anyone take that from me or sweep that under the rug with their fucking pity.

“Got it. But that’s not how I’m treating you,” he counters, taking my purse from my shoulder and dropping it to the floor next to him. “I’m treating you like someone about to run. Like an animal that’s been cornered. I’m being cautious, Billy, because I don’t want you to bite. I can help if you’ll let me.”

I don’t answer. I won’t. So, I just shake my head. He has no idea the levels my family would sink to get what they want or the despicable intentions of the people they’re involved with.

I’m sure Dante could handle them, but it wouldn’t be without some kind of damage to the things and the people he loves.

The people I love.

Dominic, Luca, Gretchen, Drew, their children…everything is fair play in this kind of war, and I can’t live with that. They don’t deserve this destruction.

But he’s right. I’m going to run. I haven’t pretended anything differently. And if he tries to stop me, I really will sink my teeth into anything that gets in the way.

Dante brushes a lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Why do they want you back, Billy?”

The action is tender and soft, and my eyes close, to rob me of one sense so that I can relish another. His tatted hand cradles my jaw as he waits for my answer, and it reminds me of our first night—our first words spoken once I crossed the threshold.

“You’re so beautiful sitting at my feet, Sarah. Thank you,” he whispers, running his hand over my head and letting his fingers weave through my hair. I lean in to his touch appreciatively as he speaks.

“Tell me how you knew I was what you needed.”

“I felt it. Your power. Your possession. And I wanted to be collected.” His finger dips down under my chin, raising my eyes to his as I continue. “We’re depraved, Dante. I recognized your darkness because it’s mine as well.”

Dante’s voice pulls me from my bubble. “Answer me,” he whispers. “Why are they coming for you?”

I lock eyes with his as I give the answer. “Because I fucked up a deal for them, and they want me to make amends.”

The muscles in Dante’s jaw work overtime as he lowers his face closer to mine.

“How do you make amends? With money?”

His voice is a low whisper; it’s deadly and restrained.

“With my body…with my life. Whatever works.” I answer honestly.

His thumb runs under my eye, but I know it’s dry. I don’t cry anymore. I wouldn’t even know how.

His eyes bore into mine, like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Shaking his head, Dante drops his hand and takes a step back.

“Motherfucker.”

He smacks his hands together roughly. I can feel his anger; it’s vibrating off him. Dante looks back to me as he keeps putting distance between us like he’s trying to protect me from the rage that’s evident all over his face.

“Ask me for help,” he growls, fisting his hands at his sides.

He knows I won’t ask.

“No. I’d be making a deal with the devil, and you’d want my soul in return.”

I was sold once. That shit won’t ever happen again.

Grabbing my purse from the floor, I look over my shoulder at the door and back to Dante. He takes a predatory step forward, but my feet instinctively carry me backward a few steps, and I reach out for the wall to steady me as I get tripped up around the desk chair.