Series: The Moretti Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t have taken her so roughly. I should have controlled myself better. But all I saw was red. Fury consumed me to the point of no return. Then, I shot him like I was out hunting a deer. Like I’ve done so many times before, but today was different. Today she was here, watching me, seeing the darkest parts of me.
I don’t regret killing him, but I wish I hadn’t done it in front of her.
I knew that Fallon was innocent. Death had never touched her until now.
Staring at her, I find her blue eyes glazed over, fear hovering just beneath the surface. This is going to break her, crack her wide open. To this day, I’ve never forgotten the first death I witnessed, and neither will she. This day will forever be ingrained in her mind.
“Fallon,” I call, my voice rougher than intended.
She doesn’t blink, doesn’t even acknowledge me.
Fuck. As badly as I feel the need to clean her up and feed her, I’ve got to get rid of this body. I’ve also gotta clean the kitchen wall, but I can’t do either of those things unless I put her back in the cell downstairs.
Even with my threat, I can’t trust that she won’t try to run the first chance she gets. Any rational person would run after witnessing what she did.
Knowing that she will not respond to my words, I walk over to her and pull her pants back up. Her body is stiff and unmoving, but the moment I slide my arms beneath her to pick her up, she recoils like my touch physically burns her skin.
Anger replaces the guilt I felt moments ago and floods my veins. It’s an oxymoron, really. I want her to be scared, want to keep her in line with fear, but I also want her to want me. Want my touch. It’s a contradiction. Two things that will never go together, yet it’s exactly what I want.
I try cradling her against my chest, but she’s struggling against me, trying her best to get away, to put a few inches of distance between us. She has no idea I’ll never allow such a thing. The only way she will ever be able to escape me is through death.
Switching my hold on her, I throw her slender body over my shoulder and grab a blanket that’s hanging off the back of the couch.
I half expected her to pound against my back, to scream for me to let her go, but I get none of those things. Her silence is so much louder, and I’d almost rather have her raging than quiet. All she does is struggle in my grasp, wiggling like a worm to break free.
By the time we get to the cell, she has calmed down a bit. Her body is draped over mine limply, and she doesn’t fight when I slide her down my front and place her on her feet. She wobbles, her knees knocking together. Grasping her forearm, I try to steady her, but she tugs her arm from my hand.
Clenching my jaw, I ignore her behavior. She’s in shock and needs a moment to gather her thoughts. I’ll give her that, but I won’t tolerate her not allowing me to touch after today. She belongs to me, and she needs to realize that.
Using the blanket, I drape it over her shoulders. She grabs the corners and tugs the blanket tighter around herself while stepping away from me. She doesn’t stop until her back is pressed up into the corner of the room. Her gaze is trained on me with every move she makes, almost like she is scared to take her eyes off me.
“I’ll be back soon,” I say, softly.
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t nod, or even blink. It’s like she is frozen in shock, stuck in her mind, where the fear I created is holding her prisoner.
Even though everything inside of me tells me to stay, I turn and walk to the door.
She doesn’t stop me or beg me to return to her side. She says nothing, and that annoys me more than it should. The heavy metal door falls shut behind me when I step out into the hall, and a distinct ache forms in my chest. I rub at the spot, wanting it to disappear. Admitting fault isn’t something I do often. I don’t fuck up. I’m good at what I do. It’s why Julian made me his second in command.
This time, though, I know I’ve fucked up. Took things too far. I let my emotions rule my actions, and that’s a mistake I’m going to pay for.
Regardless, I can’t change what’s already done. I can’t turn back time and bring him back to life. I can’t make Fallon look at me the way she did before.