Page 33 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

ENZO

N ew Year’s Day. New beginnings. A new chance to get it right.

I intended to get it absolutely right. It had been eight days since we got married—four days since I followed my wife back to Sicily—and it was hands down the best fucking thing I could’ve ever done.

We’d started scouting available properties, but we didn’t rush. This little cottage that sat on the cliff overlooking the sea was all we needed right now, especially because it made Penelope happy. I wasn’t in a position to ask for anything more.

My eyes found my wife on the swing on the other side of the terrace with an e-reader in her hands and a blanket over her legs.

She must be reading another one of those books on how to kill your husband, except something told me this one had some R-rated content, judging by the crimson stain on her cheeks.

We were getting to know each other. We slept in the same bed, and while it was killing me that I hadn’t fucked her again, I was determined to let her take the first step. Taking it slow was the least I could do.

“I win,” Amara exclaimed with a huge smile on her face.

“You’re a quick study, littlest one,” I stated. “I’ll have to make sure I never play cards against you.”

Amara jumped to her feet and whirled around, grinning happily, but the suddenness of her movements must’ve been too much because she stumbled. I was out of my seat in a heartbeat, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Penelope ran over from the swing.

“Are you okay, Amara?” I asked her, scanning her face for clues.

“You can’t be jumping,” Penelope scolded softly, holding her sister by her shoulders.

“I wasn’t jumping,” Amara replied quietly. “And I didn’t fall.”

“Because Enzo caught you.”

“Don’t tell Mama and Papà,” Amara pleaded. “They’ll panic and take me in today. It was just a bit of clumsiness.”

I eyed the girl, my heart squeezing in my chest. It was hard to tell whether Amara’s health was worsening or if the treatments were helping. She was often pale and frail-looking, but the inner strength that shone in her eyes managed to fool you into believing she was all right.

“We should have you checked out,” Penelope argued. “Just to be safe.”

“I agree, Amara. We’ll make the quick drive to the hospital and continue our card game while we wait.”

She shook her head fiercely, glaring at both of us. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” my wife asked tentatively.

Amara pushed her away and propped her hands on her hips. “No, I won’t go.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Penelope reasoned.

“I’m sick and tired of doctors and needles.

I won’t go.” She stomped her foot with a strength I hadn’t seen before.

“My next appointment is in two days. That’s when I’m going.

” She whirled around and started walking away, but then abruptly stopped and glanced over her shoulder at us.

“And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll disown you. ”

My wife started after her, but I slid my hand into hers. “Let’s hang back and make sure she gets inside in one piece, okay? Give her a bit of space.”

We followed in silence, my wife chewing her bottom lip. Amara’s slim form was too far to hear us, but not far enough that we wouldn’t be able to get to her if something were to happen.

My wife sighed. “I’m worried.”

“She’s strong.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “She’s been through a hell of a lot for her young age. It’s understandable that she doesn’t want to rush to the hospital at the slightest threat.”

“It’s not that.” Penelope hung her head low. “It’s her… I can’t explain it. It’s like she’s rushing things. Rushing life.”

Amara’s words from that day I came to find my wife flickered in my mind. I don’t have a lot of time left.

They were ominous and far too serious for such a young person. Had she overheard something? Or was Amara sensing something her family refused to see?

“What do the doctors say?” I asked slowly.

She shook her head. “They’re… hopeful. She’s young and strong. She’s getting the best care possible. But she needs a liver. A spleen, too. On top of those already terrible odds, her blood type poses a problem as well.”

I nodded somberly. “Finding a match won’t be impossible.”

“Pretty damn near it.” She swallowed. “You want to know something funny?”

“Sure.”

She laughed, but the sound was all wrong. Bitter. Angry. Full of sorrow.

“Everyone’s terrified of organ smugglers, and I’m kind of hoping one snatches me and gives a part of my liver to her.

Or procures me one.” I froze, and she stopped too, meeting my eyes.

“I know, I know. It’s wrong on so many levels because those bastards kill innocents and distribute their organs like prized candy. ”

“It is wrong,” I agreed, even while a terrible idea flickered in my mind. “But it’s understandable you feel that way.”

“Really?” she breathed.

I nodded. “Although, it’s not a guarantee you’d be a match.”

“There’s a good chance, though.”

In the meantime, I’d risk my soul and find the match another way.

It was time I found Atticus Popov and finished what my mother had started.