Page 26 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

The slap cracked across his face like a gunshot, jerking his head back with savage force.

She'd only struck him once before in her life—when he'd kidnapped their daughter after discovering she'd lied about Sandy's paternity.

She'd never regretted that slap, and she didn't regret this one.

She struck him this time for everything he'd done since then to own her, to possess her, to fight against every attempt she'd made to be free of their toxic past. Everything he'd done until she finally understood the terrible truth—that without him, there was no her.

He was her soul, her damnation, her salvation, just like Debbie could never escape Matteo.

Just like Willa could never escape Jean-Baptiste. Just like Janey and Carmine Boanno.

She stepped back from him in absolute horror. "You can't do this, Melo. Not again."

"I've done it!" His voice exploded with finality. "And I'm not sorry!"

Overwhelmed by the magnitude of his betrayal, she pulled off the ring he'd just noticed her wearing.

With deliberate precision, she placed it on the table beside the wedding ring he'd given her when they'd officially renewed their vows, and she agreed to convert to catholicism.

He stared at the abandoned jewelry, then at her, his face crumpling with hurt.

"You never understood," she said, her voice breaking like glass. "You never had to make me love you. You just had to let me love you."

"Kathy…you won’t go. Not this time. I’m not going to let you.” He reached for her desperately.

She threw up her hand to stop his approach, then turned and fled up the stairs to the yacht's upper deck.

She ran from him and from the truth, seeking escape in the night air.

The fresh lake breeze filled her lungs, the scent of pine and cold water sharp in her nostrils.

All of it sobered her even as the tears refused to stop falling.

She felt trapped—not just by his suffocating love, but by her own inability to stop the Wolf from consuming the man she'd wanted back so desperately. Every chance they'd had at happiness, this anger, this pain always returned, always brought out the worst in him, the most destructive impulses. He’d killed for her. He’d done even worse and said it was all for her. She never wanted any of it.

Her blood sang with rage and the ancient knowledge of what was to come if she didn’t join him. If the Wolf didn’t get his way.

She kicked off her heels, the expensive shoes clattering across the polished deck, and went barefoot to the yacht's railing. The dark water below looked like liquid obsidian, promising oblivion.

"Kathy!" His voice behind her carried pure panic.

She ignored him completely.

Without hesitation, she vaulted over the railing and plunged into the night-black water.

The lake was shockingly cold, stealing her breath as she sank beneath the surface.

She closed her eyes and let herself drift deeper into the abyss, weightless and free for the first time in weeks.

The silence was absolute, peaceful, a temporary escape from the chaos.

Of course, he was there within seconds, his powerful arms wrapping around her waist as he hauled her back toward the surface.

The yacht's floodlights blazed to life, turning the dark water into a stage as he swam them both back to safety, cursing himself in rapid-fire Italian for hurting her, for making her hurt herself.

It wasn't suicide. She could swim. It was just her desperate need to be free.

Strong hands pulled her from the water, her soaked dress clinging to her body like a second skin.

The crew tried not to stare at her exposed curves as Carmelo hauled himself aboard, water streaming from his hair, his eyes wild with fear and rage.

She fled from him again, racing to their cabin and slamming the door behind her, turning the lock and securing it.

She pressed her back against the door as he pounded on it.

The Wolf threatened to break it down. His threats were raw with desperation as he begged to fight with her, to reason with her, to make her understand his twisted logic.

But gradually his voice faded, and all the memories crashed over her like a tsunami.

Ely and that damn war he insisted on joining, which took him from her, Carmelo’s fault.

Her father's death, his father's death, the bloody cycle of vengeance that defined their world, their shared fault. That car hit Sandy in the street, and the way Carmelo had screamed in anguished tears when he’d picked up their broken daughter from the asphalt, saying it was his fault. The madness that had consumed him that day gave the Wolf complete control. The boy she loved died when his daughter’s skull was cracked and she bled in his arms. The poor driver of that car was tortured for weeks before the Wolf finally showed mercy and killed him with a hammer.

And his and Maria’s kids were cast from his heart.

Nicolas never recovered from losing his father’s love.

He treated him in the same way Cosimo treated Matteo.

It drove her and Maria into a friendship as they tried to protect the children from the Wolf.

Their life was never the same after that moment.

He was never the same. No matter how hard she loved or forgave him.

She stripped off the clinging dress and wrapped herself in a silk robe, then sat on the edge of the bed and let the memories slam into her consciousness.

She got up and turned on the transistor radio, pulling up the antenna to get the news broadcast from New York.

From the lake, she heard him listening to the baseball game at Yankee Stadium.

She let it play, and God granted her wish after several news bites; the truth was laid bare.

The broadcaster announced her death and the investigation. It was real. It was true. She was dead.

The Wolf started again, kicking at the door.

Eventually, he forced the cabin door open—Aunt Janey had taught her that locks only worked if men allowed them to.

But the door held. She could see him in her mind.

He paced the small space like a caged predator, giving her an endless list of justifications for what he'd done, switching frantically between Italian and English as his control fractured completely—threatening the world if she refused to forgive and accept their condemned fate.

She watched him fall apart and said nothing, her mind working with the cold calculation that was her birthright.

She had to pull this back from the brink.

She remembered what Aunt Janey had taught her about managing dangerous men.

She remembered her mother's marriage to her father and the calm in Brenda that often tamed the beast in Daddy.

Carmelo wasn't in control, though he desperately believed he was.

She was his strength and his weakness, his anchor and his destruction.

And she would have to fix this catastrophe to save them both. Or go down in flames with him, but save their child.

Though it killed something vital inside her to suppress the volcanic rage burning in her chest, she did it anyway. She stood and opened the door. He turned around with madness in his eyes. She opened her arms to the Wolf, knowing precisely what he needed to hear, what he needed to feel.

He was on her in an instant, holding her too tight, his robust frame shaking as he kissed her face and whispered false promises of change, of better days, of a future that didn't exist.

"Shhh..." she whispered against his ear, her voice soft as silk. "Stop talking. Just let me hold you."

Carmelo did as she commanded, and wept with relief to be forgiven. She held him close, stroking his hair as if he were a child, a mother comforting him. And she held back her fury, banking it like coals that would burn hotter for being contained.

For now.

But the Elliott women never forgot. And they never, ever gave in.