His Revenge (Smoke & Mirrors Duet #1)

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

LEO

“A survivor is someone who has lived through traumatic experiences but continues to wake up and live every day.”

I may not know where she went mentally but based upon the way that her eyes glazed over when she fell, it wasn't a happy memory. I patiently wait until I see her eyes refocus before I reach for her hand; I don’t need to add to her fear. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to catch her but I know that when people mentally check out they do not react normally.

“I'm sorry,” she mutters barely above a whisper. The tightness in her shoulders tells me just how close she is to breaking.

“May I touch you?” I ask, looking for permission to comfort her. Given everything that she has experienced with her father and guard, I will not be the one to make her worse. A subtle nod is all she provides me before I reach for her hand. Pulling her into me, I make eye contact with Rome. He has a lot to do here and will put her new presents on the kitchen table for her.

I move her to my chest and pick her up from the floor bridal style. Her fear filled whimpers and the way she is shaking rocks me to my core. I knew that things were bad with her father before, but not to this extent. This specific type of fear is bone deep from years of extended torture. It takes physical effort to keep every fiber of my being calm when I want to burn the world down for what she has gone through and I have only had a glimpse of her story. I am not sure that I can handle knowing the whole truth of her pain without having something I can break. Even knowing this I could never turn her away. If she decided to tell me more of her past I would bury my anger and comfort her until I could walk away and explode.

Walking through my house with her feels different; less a house and more our home. Somewhere I can guarantee her safety and comfort. No matter how our relationship develops, she deserves one space carved out in this world where she doesn’t have to face the nightmares of her past. Careful not to startle her, I lower myself onto the couch and set her in my lap. She hesitates and looks up at me through her lashes. It doesn’t take an expert to see the fear in her eyes. It just doesn’t make sense to me, how someone could be so cruel to such a beautiful creature to walk this earth.

“Lean onto me, Butterfly. I will die before I let anyone hurt you ever again. I don’t care how much blood I have to spill or what side of this turf war the blood is from. Your enemy is now my enemy and any living creature to raise their hand against you won’t be living for much longer,” I speak, pushing both comfort and honesty into my words, hoping that she understands the depth of them. We may have started this arrangement differently, but now that I know and understand her there is nothing that would prevent me from protecting her. Even if it meant throwing my revenge against her father out the window, I would do it as long as she got the life she deserves.

“Please don’t throw me away now that you see what a broken toy I have become. I know you had expectations coming into this agreement and I am not meeting them but I can do better… I can be more, but please, don’t send me back there. I won’t survive it,” Her voice cracks on the final admission as a tear falls down her cheek. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, breaking the eye contact we had.

How could this beautiful woman ever think she could be thrown away? You don’t live in the world that we grew up in without some sort of trauma and from what I know her dad was the primary source of hers. She may not see it, but her strength and survival have cocooned who she is and protected her core from the vile upbringing that she had. If I have anything to say about it, she will come out of this cocoon and emerge the beautiful vibrant butterfly that I know is trapped safely inside. I’m not stupid though, I know that trauma is a lifelong healing and that triggers will come and go. The safer I make her and the more that she processes the more reactive she will get. This doesn’t make her weak; this makes her the strongest fucking person I know to get up everyday and fight the embedded fear she has spend most of her life surviving. Using my free hand to stroke her cheek, I place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I am not losing you. You are mine. You will always be mine, beautiful. Even if I was killed tomorrow, Rome knows that you are never to go back to your father. He has an extra go bag with a passport, new identity, and overseas account that cannot be traced for you to use. I would do anything and be anyone to ensure your freedom,” My voice exudes calm and truth as I make the second promise of my life. What she doesn’t know is that if I have to break my promise to Claire to keep her safe, I would do it. Tears fall freely from her eyes as she attempts to muffle her cries. Pulling her as close as the clothes will allow, I gently rock her while humming a lullaby that my mom used to sing to me in Italian.

“Let it out. You are safe here,” I reassure her between verses. The sobs racking her body cut me to the core. Even if it takes my entire life, I will give her the revenge she deserves. I will offer the blood of her tormentors to take for herself as my equal in this life, but I hope she will take me up on the offer to allow me to take the burden of killing from her. Each life ended, no matter how much that person deserves to die, weighs differently and she deserves peace, not to be haunted by the ghosts of those who hurt her. Killing in the beginning can keep you awake at night asking yourself endless questions about the future you ended but after as many kills as I have completed in the name of my family I barely see my victims faces anymore.

By the time that she has stopped crying it is well into the afternoon. Rome knew better than to follow us into the house. He wanted to give her space to feel safe which is why he is my best friend and right hand man. Brushing the hair out of her face, I can see that she needs to be taken care of but she also needs a safe space to speak about what she went through. She needs to talk through the experiences so that she can work through them, not for me but for her. I would take her as she is without asking a single question but she doesn’t want to feel this way. I stand up and walk us to my en-suite bathroom before sitting her on the counter.

Opening the cupboard under the bathroom counter, I see that it is full of things for a bath, including lavender epsom salts and bubble baths. My housekeeper often knows what I need before I do and this is one of those moments where I add a special bonus for her to her standard pay for going above and beyond. Being a killer does not prevent me from treating the people closest to me with the kindness and respect that they deserve. I take the step over to the bath and add the salt before turning on water to the tub and adding the bubbles. Facing my bride once more, I stand in front of where she sits and using my right hand I tilt her chin up to make direct eye contact with her.

“Would you prefer to bathe alone or do you want company? Either way I am following your lead,” My eyes search hers as I ask, hoping to see a hint of what she wants to make sure that she is speaking up for herself. It is important to me that she knows that the word “No” is law in this house. It is a complete sentence and requires no explanation before it is accepted.

“That bath is big enough for two, I want you to join me if you are comfortable,” She whispers with an undertone of fear in her voice.

“Of course, anything for you,” I answer.