Mara pov
"No," he whispered. He reached out and touched my cheek with his freezing hands.
"I'm more comfortable when people are selfish, Mara. Selfish people make sense, I know what you're going to do next. It's the selfless ones who are dangerous. They do things for 'honor' or 'kindness,' and that's unpredictable. Stay selfish, he gently brush my hair with his palm "It's the only way you'll survive me," he added.
I felt a shiver run down my back that had nothing to do with the cold. He was a psychopath. He didn't want a girl who cared about him; he wanted a girl who was just as broken as he was. I wanted to move away, but I couldn't stop looking at him.
He sliced the ropes off my wrists with a small knife. My hands fell to my sides, tingling and numb. He grabbed my waist and pulled me into a hug. It wasn't soft. He held me so tight against his good shoulder that I could feel the heat coming off him and the dampness of the blood on his shirt.
He let go and turned his back to me, crouching down. "Get on."
"No, Lorenzo. Your shoulder will tear open," I said, backing away.
"I didn't ask, Mara. Get on my back. Now."
I hesitated, then slowly wrapped my arms around his neck. He groaned a deep painful sound, though he tried to hide it by maintaining stamina.I felt his muscles straining. Every step he took was slow and calculated, his body tilting to one side to keep the wound from opening further. I tried to stay still, but my tiny weight made him stumble once. I tightened my grip, my heart aching for him even as I feared him.
"Because you did so well today," he whispered as we reached the outside air, "I'm going to give you a reward."
"A reward?" I asked. I felt a shiver. "What is it?"
"You'll see," he said, his voice fading as he fought to keep walking. "Just don't start trusting me now. It'll ruin the fun."
I closed my eyes and held on tighter, wondering what kind of "reward" a monster gives.
Lorenzo pov
The bathroom mirror was a liar. It showed a man who looked like he was standing tall, but inside, my shoulder was a mess of screaming nerves. I gripped the edge of the porcelain sink with my good hand, watching Cemal in the reflection.
"The bleeding has slowed down," Cemal said. He was being careful as he peeled away the old, red-soaked bandage. "But you're looking pale, Lorenzo. You need to sit down before you fall down."
"I'm fine," I said. I looked at the wound. It was an ugly, purple-rimmed hole. "What about Gabe's wife?"
"She's at the private clinic," Cemal muttered, reaching for the fresh gauze. "The doctor says she'll keep the leg, but she'll limp for the rest of her life. The arm was just a flesh wound. Gabe is losing his mind, heard he has been calling the burner phone every ten minutes, begging to talk to her."
"Good," I said. I didn't feel bad for her. I didn't feel bad for the kids who had to watch it. In my world, you pay for the mistakes of your blood. "Tell him he gets her back when I'm sure Mara is settled. Not a second before. If he talks to the Syndicate, I'll finish what I started."
Cemal taped the new bandage down tight. "And the girl? She's been sitting in her room staring at the wall since we got back."
"She's feeling guilty," I said, pulling my shirt over my head. Each movement felt like a knife twisting in my joint. "She thinks she's the reason I'm hurt. It's a good emotion for her. It makes her tough."
I walked out of the bathroom and down the hall to Mara's room. I didn't knock. I just pushed the door open. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands tucked between her knees. She looked up, her eyes wide and red-rimmed.
"I'm giving you a reward," I told her. I leaned against the doorframe so she wouldn't see me sway.
"A reward?" she asked. Her voice was small. "For what?"
"For being yourself," I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stack of hundreds and a cheap burner phone. I tossed them onto the bed next to her. "You have the afternoon. Go out. Walk the streets, buy something pretty, eat a meal that isn't made in this kitchen."