Page 103 of Thorns of Death

Her knees touched the sand and I found myself next to her, my own knees hitting the rocks. I caught my mother’s head before it hit the ground.

“Mamma.” My voice cracked. The voice didn’t sound like my own. It was full of anguish. Terror. My mamma’s blood stained my hands, soaking through my fingers and dripping onto the ground.

Then the haunting sound pierced the air. I felt it deep down in my soul. It was full of agony. Full of pain, mirroring what I felt in my soul.

It was my father’s. Our day started on the beach and ended in the hospital.

The day turned out not so perfect after all.

My grandmother died in the hospital too. My father was gunned down in an alley, coming out of a club we owned. And my brother… Well, he died on my front lawn.

I pulled myself out of the memory to focus on the present.

I ignored the tightness in my chest as I vigorously typed on my cell phone. I checked on Manuel and my sons. They were safe. I touched base with Kian who agreed to meet me in the lobby at St. Regis Nikolskaya hotel. We’d booked all the suites on the top two floors to ensure maximum security.

The door to Tatiana’s room opened and relief washed over me as I watched Isla slink out. Jumping to my feet, I met her halfway. Our bodyguards were on their feet too, lingering in the back.

“How is she?”

Isla’s hand slipped in mine and she craned her neck, those beautiful, shimmering greens locking with my gaze.

“She still hasn’t woken up,” she murmured. “I feel useless just sitting there. Illias is a mess.”

I squeezed her hand in comfort. “I can understand that. My father was a mess when my mother fought for her life.”

“She was attacked too?” I nodded. “I’m sorry, Enrico. That must have been hard on your family.”

This was the part Amadeo called too soft, but he was wrong. Isla had the right mixture of compassion and strength. Stubbornness and meekness. Konstantin might have sheltered her and protected her, but that was part of her DNA.

“It was,piccolina,” I admitted. “But that was a long time ago. Do you want to stay longer, or should we go back to the hotel?”

“Let’s go back to the hotel, but I’d like to come back tomorrow if that’s okay. I just know she’ll pull through, and I want to be here for it.”

“Then we’ll be here for it.”

I scanned the surroundings as we made our way toward the exit sign and took the stairs to the garage. Two of my men were in front of us and two were in the back. She slipped her hand into mine, her palm small in mine but so fucking right. My chest warmed and I gently squeezed her hand.

She was starting to trust me. Would the truth turn her away from me?

Ten minutes later, I drove us out of the parking garage, my guards tailing us.

I kept Isla’s hand in mine, and when I had to shift the gear, I’d put her hand on my thigh. The fact she’d leave it there and wait for me to take it again made so many emotions bounce around in my chest.

Cazzo, I had it bad for my wife. And the deeper I fell, the stronger the fear of seeing another person I loved die in front of my eyes grew.

“Isla, what I’m about to tell you has to stay between us,” I started. I felt her hand tense on my thigh and her nails dig into my flesh.

“It’s about time you trust me.”

I let out a heavy sigh. Fuck, I wasn’t ready to tell her that her mother was dragged into one of my father’s brothels. I didn’t want to lose her. I needed her love before I could dump that on her. I craved it. But the fear of seeing her die—just like every woman who had ever loved a Marchetti man—was buried deep inside my heart and in the marrow of my bones.

“I’ll start with my story.” I gripped the steering wheel and the rubberized grip of it creaked in protest. “When we get to the hotel, I’ll share what I know of yours.” Some of it, at least.

“It will stay between us, then,” she vowed, looking at me seriously. “I promise.”

“Fuck, where do I even start?” I muttered.

“Wherever you want. Or if it helps, I can ask questions,” she offered. There was that softness again. She wasn’t dumb, and after hearing the priest refer to me by my birth name, I knew she suspected it. Heck, she knew it, but she needed my confirmation.