Page 85 of Ruthless

Angela’s spine goes ramrod straight, her attention shifting from the files to me. “What do you mean?”

I stand, take the folders back from her, and shrug again. “I was just spitballing.”

What if we’ve been painting the mole in the wrong light? If someone wanted to harm the Argentos, they would have gone after Dante directly instead of undermining his search for the Ghost at every turn or targetingme. What does the mole have to do with Dante’s final torturer, the Ghost…or aka, Enzo Conti?

I sigh and tuck Jasmine and Claire’s folders under one arm before putting the rest away. “At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before we find out who’s behind it all.”

Angela whistles, impressed, but then her brows draw down, and her mouth tightens. “You should be careful. The Council has eyes everywhere, and if they learn you’re digging into something you’re not supposed to, they won’t be happy.”

Dante must be rubbing off on me because I snap back. “They should have thought about that before they came after us.”

Angela’s shocked cackle follows me as I stalk through the clinic to meet Marco. Her words stick with me for the remainder of the day.

Later, I flop back onto my bed and blow out a breath. Mole and Ghost aside, things between Dante and I are getting…complicated. I snort at my own thought. Complicated doesn’t quite cover it. Since we started working together in earnest on all this stuff, he’s different.

Not the cruel beast he was when I arrived, nor the attentive easygoing lover I knew all those years ago, but something in-between. Something new. And now that I’ve taken these baby steps into his world, he respects me more, values my opinions, my contributions. I might not exactly be a full-fledged mafioso yet, but if he gave me the chance…I think I would be. For him.

Despite everything, I can’t deny that I’m just as in love with him as I’ve always been. Maybe even more. But while he regards me with soft affection, he hasn’t admitted to any genuinefeelings out loud. That fuels my doubts, which insist this is all an act, a trick designed to break me the way he breaks everything else.

Groaning, I scrub my palm over my face before checking the time on the bedside clock. Dante and I usually meet at seven, except it’s forty after and still no Dante.

I sit on the edge of my bed, my leg bouncing in agitation. While my thoughts start to run away with me, I wander toward the window.

If I can’t make myself useful, he’ll throw me away. In fact, maybe tonight’s absence is punishment for my lack of progress. I’ve never done anything to warrant abandonment, but Dante has treated me worse over less. And the people I love tend to leave.

Shit.I can’t do this anymore.

In a few agitated strides, I’m out of my room, across the hall, and in front of his door. Raising my hand to knock, I end up channeling my inner-Dante instead and just bust right in.

What I see halts me in my tracks.

By the window, Dante stares at the street below, holding his shirt in one hand and treating me to the sight of his bare, muscular back. When he turns to face me, my heart shatters at all the blood. I scan him from head to toe, and my pulse only calms once I determine he’s not wounded. The blood belongs to someone else, probably the unlucky soul he was torturing upstairs.

My feet lead me across the space, but I stop just shy of touching him. When the shadows clouding his eyes finally disperse, he blinks, surprised by the sight of me. “Sara? What are you?—?”

“Who are you?” I whisper

Hurt flashes over his face as he tries to turn away, but I grip his jaw to stop him. I don’t want him to hide from me. Neveragain. “You’ve gone out of your way to introduce this version of yourself to me, to prove that whoever you were before no longer exists, and I deserve to know which one of you is real. Whichyouam I in love with?”

Which man am I trying to comfort right now? Who is this person gazing back at me, his expression as cold as ice? Dante’s eyes roam my face, and he opens his mouth like he wants to speak but can’t articulate the truth.

My chest tightens as his silence grows, and I resist the violent urge to tear at my skin. Did I really think he’d tell me?

“Do you even know?” I drift closer. “Are you the blood-soaked monster? Or the one who spends his nights with Pistol and me? Are you a murderer or a man who loves unequivocally only when he thinks no one else can see?” I swallow hard. “I need to know who it is I’m riskingmylife to be with.”

Dante’s expression shatters like glass, and when he reaches for me, I realize that I’ve finally pushed him too far, too fast.

There’s no coming back from whatever happens next.

Chapter 34

Dante

I pull Sara to me like she’s a lost limb, shame and exhaustion swamping my mind with slimy filth. She gasps as my fingers play through her hair, slide down that beloved face, and leave a trail of red in their wake. Bloodshed and the memory of screams. That’s all I can offer her now and forever.

Not a real ring or a future. Just this. Just tortured voices in the dark. Fuck, I’m so tired of the dark. I shiver, my hands trembling, and I go to my knees for her, pressing my cheek against the soft material covering her stomach so that the horrors that stain my skin don’t sully her. But what about next time? Or the time after that?

Raking my fingers through my hair, I curse myself yet again for dragging her into this tainted life. Who am I now? I’ve asked myself that question since I followed her outside the hospital and realized I’d finally get the opportunity to pay her back for the pain she inflicted. Or the pain Ibelievedshe inflicted. Because after spending these past weeks with her nearby, I no longer buy that she conspired with my kidnappers in exchange for money. One day soon, we need to sit down and discuss what truly happened, but I’m a coward. I keep pushing thatconfrontation back because I’m terrified to learn how badly I’ve wronged her.