I pull on a pair of sweatpants and toss our discarded clothes into the hamper, fishing out my phone and wallet before separating Pietro’s knife and the pistol I shot my father-in-law with from my chest harness.I lock the other weapons away in the safe, place the knife and pistol in the bedside table drawer, and join my bride in the bed.
Unsettled from her proclamation, I pull up this morning’s security footage from her hotel room.
I curse myself again for not upgrading to a camera with sound, but her father rarely visited her room, and it seemed a waste of resources with her wedding date drawing near.
Valentina drags herself from her bed.Despondency emanates from her every movement, but she becomes animated when she opens my gift.
Pietro arrives as she’s closed in the restroom changing into the blue panties I gave her.
She steps out of the bathroom, dodges her father’s attempt to brush her hair back, then grabs a plate from the breakfast cart.
Bitterness rises in me.She’s acting like a spoiled brat.If she’s implying her father was worse than me because he wanted to comfort her with the platonic gesture, then she’s more of a drama queen than I gave her credit for.
I stiffen when Pietro grabs her arm and presses his front to her back.He leans down to murmur in her ear.
Valentina whimpers in the bed beside me.I force my muscles to relax despite the emotions churning in my gut.
Violence fills the screen.
He reaches for her throat.She jabs him with the tongs.He shoves her down.She tries to scramble away, but he flips her over and raises a hand to slap her.
Even without sound, I know his words are pure evil by the expressions on both of their faces.
Valentina shifts in her sleep again.I aim the light from my screen at her face.My heart stops at the horror twisting her features.Sweat glistens on her pale flesh.
On my phone, Pietro grabs her face and lowers his hand.
“No,Mamma.Don’t go—” Valentina whispers beside me.Her breaths grow shallow.
Pietro leans down and brushes her hair back, but his expression is threatening.She shakes her head.
My wife whimpers and jerks in her sleep.
He pats her cheek.Sick satisfaction gleams from his eyes as he rises and leaves her staring up at the ceiling.She looks broken and miserable.
“Daddy, please,” she moans with a restless shift between the sheets.
Fury rises in me at the desperation in her voice.I grab her shoulder.She wakes swinging and screaming, the terror on her face gut-wrenchingly raw.
I catch her arm, but she wails on me with the other, slamming the side of her fist against my chest as though burying a knife into me again and again.Horrible memories flash through my mind.Phantom pain throbs through my back.
My mind transports me back to the night my best friend betrayed me.He sunk his blade into me over and over again, piercing my back and puncturing organs with the fury of a man possessed.Past and present blur.
I snap.
My body moves.I tackle Pietro and wrap my hands around his throat like I’ve fantasized about for a decade.His throat is too slender, but I squeeze harder when he scratches the back of my hands.
The world blips.My surroundings change.The back alley becomes silky sheets.Masculine features morph into feminine perfection.Dark brown pupils become blue.
Valentina’s eyes roll to the back of her head.Her hands slip to the mattress.
I peel my hands off her throat and shake her shoulders.She rouses with violent coughing and unfocused eyes.I pull her into my lap, pushing her fingers away from her throat to check the damage, but she swats my hand every time I reach for her, so I tug her tighter against me and focus on calming myself.Her slight weight in my lap and the rise and fall of her chest—no matter how ragged—assures me she’s still alive.
Guilt infects every inch of me.
She fell asleep naked in my bed, displaying a level of trust I took for granted.I woke her from a nightmare in the most abrupt, cruel way and then overreacted.
“You’re crushing me.Let go,” she croaks.
