Chapter 1
Rachel
I willed myself to count to ten before I reacted.
Vienna was still doing his best to support the weight of Shark, who struggled to stand against the agony of his stab wound. His face was tight with pain, his eyes screwing shut as Vienna attempted to move him across the room and lay him down on the bed. I could see Vienna’s lips moving, but I couldn’t hear a word over the sound of my blood rushing through my body and pounding in my ears.
The fear was eating me up. The dread I could feel was strong enough that I could almost taste it. Everywhere I looked, there was more blood to find, more damage to see – evidence of the struggle that had taken place.
Time seemed to stand still as the past rushed up to greet me.
“Dante wasn’t in a good way. If we don’t find him soon, they’ll kill him.”
“Pack your shit and leave with your mother. I’m fucking done. Think what you want of me, but I won’t be labelled a fucking rapist and child abuser.”
Two conversations that would plague me with guilt for the rest of my life if anything happened to Dante.
Whilst I was sitting downstairs with my mother, Dante had been up here fighting for his life. And from his own older brother.
What the fuck had I done?
Why the fuck had I been so naïve and stupid? Playing in the past, allowing memories to wash over oneself, was a dangerous game. Hindsight came with the luxury of seeing how stupid you were, so you wouldn’t repeat those actions again in the future.
Unfortunately for me, I had been fucking naïve with Alex, and even more naïve when it came to Macbeth.
I was just too selfish and stupid tosee it.
This was all my fault. If I had just controlled my temper and held my tongue for once in my fucking life, Dante wouldn’t have been up here alone. He would have cancelled his meeting with Macbeth and stayed with me as I met with my mother in the pub downstairs. He would have been by my side, being my anchor.
Dante was a bad man. But he was a bad man who fucking cared about me. He would have put all plans aside to be therefor mebecause he would have known I needed him. He was the one who organised the reunion with my mum, for fuck’s sake. He was the one who presented the evidence to get my dad released from prison. He would have been with me every step of the way, if only I had asked.
But, no. Typical old Rachel. I had to remain stubborn, to refuse to allow my walls to come down even a fraction. He wasn’t even asking me to meet him in the middle. He was willing to bend ninety-five percent of the distance, so long as I was willing to meet him in that five percent gap.
And I had been too damned bull-headed to do it.
So instead of being with me, he was up here, being ambushed by his own brother, and God only knows who else.
And now his life was in danger.
I was frozen to the spot, unable to shake the image of Dante being hurt. The flash of pain in his eyes when I had hurled my venom at him had been bad enough. The thought of him physically being hurt was an image that made me sick to my stomach.
Are you ready to admit what everyone else has been able to see for a while now, Rachel?
I couldn’t even entertain that thought. If I admitted it now, and it was too late…?
I was scared to even open that can of worms.
What was the point of admittinganythingif I didn’t get the chance to rectify my mistakes?
No, it was much better to protect my heart, just in case the worst happened. If I never admitted it to myself, I couldn’t be hurt by his loss.
It was bullshit, and I knew it. But it was the only way I was able to get through this.
I looked around the room, trying to piece together what had happened.
The window frame had been removed, and the bedsheets were messed up. Dante’s mother was a pain in the ass for making the beds every morning – the woman thought she was running a fucking hotel the way she huffed about with fresh bedding. I had watched her many times, grumbling about the lazy cunts that called this place a home. She compared the rooms to pigsties if the corners of the sheets weren’t tucked in to her exact specifications. The woman had no life. It would be a cold day in hell before I gave a shit about the corners of my bedsheets, but the fact that it was a mess told me that there had been a struggle.
Well, I suggest every detective in town hang up their hat and send themselves off on retirement. Detective Rachel is here! As if Shark being stabbed wasn’t sign enough that there was a fucking struggle.
