Page 86 of Ruthless

Honestly, I’ve been struggling to figure out who I am since I escaped from that hell. Killing the men responsible was supposed to help heal my soul, but spending time with Sara is the only thing that soothes me. I chose her over my revenge because having her in my arms againismy freedom.

Sparing her is the only choice that hasn’t been forced on me. Even my revenge is as much about maintaining the safety and power of the Argentos as it is about me. Never once did I truly consider I had the option to stop.

“Who are you?”

Her question ping-pongs through my mind with no end, no answer. “I don’t know.”

My admission shows weakness, but I trust Sara enough to be vulnerable. She’s always been better at putting things back together. Maybe, if I give her the broken pieces, she’ll figure out where they’re supposed to fit.

An invisible weight lifts off my chest as I continue talking, my head bowed like I’m sitting in a confessional waiting for forgiveness. “Most days, my mind isn’t my own anymore. I feel more like an abandoned theatre.” My voice is muffled against her, but I can’t bring myself to speak any louder.

“There’s no one in here but me,coniglietta, and the same movie plays on repeat day in and day out. There’s no escaping it. Even when I’m awake, I hear it. Remembering is the only reason I exist now.”

My fingers dig into her hips, and when she shifts, my heart drops. I half-expect her to pull away in disgust. Instead, she strokes damp strands of hair off my face. She smells like warm skin and antiseptic from the clinic, and I can almost pretend that she alone is enough to cleanse me.

Cupping my cheek with her free hand, she urges me to raise my head. “What does it do to you, to hurt people? How does it make you feel?”

Sara always has a way of locating the tender spots and poking them, but if she needs me to confront myself, I’ll gladly do it. I release a shaky breath and peer up at her. “Like I’m putting myself back in that room. The room where they tore me apart, body and soul. Like I never left.”

With a small, pained whimper, she curls over me, her hair creating a curtain around us and erasing the rest of the world. My anxiety ebbs, and my hands finally calm and still. I thought the flashbacks would strengthen me. They’re a constant reminder of what pain tastes like, and having that knowledge in my arsenal is bound to improve my information gathering efforts.

But when I’m on the fifth floor, tearing into whatever unlucky fool is in front of me, the present bleeds into the past. When that happens, I can’t tell if I’m the one being hurt or the one doing the hurting, and I end up acting like a wild animal set loose to maul the unlucky bastard trapped in the cage with me.

“These are my people.” Sitting back on my heels, my eyes drift shut as she cradles my jaw. I’m tired, but I’m also too afraid of what I might find once I fall asleep. “I hate questioning them.”

“You realize you can just…stop, right?” Her suggestion is so absurd that my mind blanks with shock. “You’re the one in charge. If you don’t like doing something, then stop doing it.”

Stunned, I can only shake my head. “I have to weed out the mole.”

Sara catches my chin with her fingers, forcing me to confront her. “And how has torturing people and scaring the hell out of them been working out for you?”

My brain short-circuits, and I swear I can almost smell the smoke. I think back to her lecture in the car all those weeks ago about figuring out what motivates people, only this time the idea seems less far-fetched.

Would it really hurt to try a new tactic?

Besides, Sara does have a way of making the impossible possible.

“Come on.” Straightening, she hooks an arm through mine and attempts to hoist me up. “That’s enough emotional labor for one day. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Her contented smile as I obey should madden me, but unlike with Jeremy, I enjoy her fussing.

No body boundaries for me. In fact, what’s the opposite of body boundaries?

Sara guides me into the bathroom, and I lean on her, reveling in the small circles she rubs into my back.

Next to the sauna, the en suite is my second favorite place in the house. The jacuzzi tub could fit several people, as could the walk-in shower which features natural rocks that mimic walking into a cave…albeit one with three showerheads. I turn knobs while Sara gathers towels from the connected closet just off the bathroom. Soon, steam fills the space and begins to soothe my stiff muscles.

Her clothes join the remainder of mine on the ground, and I sit down on the bench seat, the spray from one of the showerheads drenching my back as Sara stands before me and washes my hair.

I rest my face against her chest. The position mirrors our previous one in the bedroom, only this time we’re wet and naked. I nuzzle closer as her fingers massage my scalp and hair.

Urging me backward, she lets the hot water rinse the soap away, and I groan as tension disappears for the first time today. Maybe even for the first time in years.

“I don’t know who you are anymore, Dante.” She presses her wet lips against my own, the slow glide erasing my every thought. “I don’t think I knew the man you were back then, either, and I don’t recognize who you’ve become. But there’s never been a day, not one single day, when I haven’t loved you.”

Her lashes are spiky with water, and her gaze is so painfully blue that I’d cross oceans and climb mountains just to lose myself in them.How did I manage to stay away for so long?

She’s waiting for a response, for me to tell her I love her back. I want to give that to her, but my mouth refuses to form the words. How can I tell her I love her when loving me comes with a body bag? Sara deserves better.