Page 61 of When She Unravels
Anger and fear struggle for dominance inside my chest. Why would he take me to this place and tie me up like some kind of animal? I tip my head back to look at my restraints.
Cold recognition spreads beneath my skin. Ropes suspended off a big fishing hook. It’s how Lazaro tied up Martina in our basement.
No, no, no.I fight the dreadful panic and the tears that spring to my eyes. This is payback. He’s punishing me.
I don’t understand. I helped his sister. Does he think I was working with Lazaro? Why wouldn’t he let me explain?
Explain what?a voice in my head asks.Youwereworking with Lazaro.
My bottom lip wobbles. I’d forgotten the fundamental truth about myself.
I am not a good person.
No amount of explanations will change that.
A single tear trickles down my cheek, and before I can collect myself, I hear the door open.
My gaze immediately connects with his.
Gone is the put-together businessman. Damiano’s hair is tousled, and instead of his usual suit, he’s wearing a simple black T-shirt and a pair of broken in jeans. He’s looking at me like I’m a carcass at a butcher’s shop. There’s not a flicker of affection in those eyes. My lungs freeze under his icy stare.
What will he do to me? He loves his sister. I’ve gathered that much. Will he chop me up and put me in a nice big box with a bow for her to open?
I reel my imagination back in. He might be looking at me like he’s ready to kill me, but there’s only one killer in this room, and it’s not him.
Whatever penance he has planned for me, I deserve it. But the need to let him know that I never intended to hurt Martina is so strong that it itches beneath my skin.
“Damiano—”
“Shut up.”
Those two words feel like a slap. The sting of them sinks into my cheeks. Fear, heartbreak, and determination are strange emotions to experience together.
His steps carve a slow path around me.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Please, let me explain.”
He fists a hand in my hair and jerks my head back, working a frantic gasp out of me. He peers down at me with his dark, turbulent eyes. “No, let me explain something to you. When I tell you to do something, you shut up and do it.”
He’s so furious, he’s not acting like himself. “This isn’t you,” I say.
“Do you know who I am?” He moves his face closer to mine, searching my eyes for something.
“I don’t understand.”
He lets go of me and heaves a dry laugh. “Ah. So you know even less about me that I do about you.”
I swallow. My eye catches on a tattoo peeking from under the sleeve of his T-shirt. The two times I’ve seen Damiano without his shirt on it was too dark for me to notice it.
He sees what I’m looking at. “This isn’t something I advertise, but since you seem to be confused about what’s happening here, I’ll make an exception.” He turns his arm to me and lifts up his shirtsleeve.
It’s some kind of an insignia. Two branches of leaves around a castle with two towers. Above the castle is an intricate crown. I’ve never seen it before.
“This is the crest of Casal di Principe, the town in Campana where I was born,” he says.
Casal di Principe.Something nudges against my memory. Where have I heard that name before?
“It’s a town of twenty-one thousand people. Three thousand of them are under near constant police surveillance. Do you know why?”
