The Blossom of Rose

45 • Possessive

♚ Luca ♚

The gates open as soon as security spot my car and I park right outside the steps of my house. I take my aviators off and pull the visor down only to see splats of dark blood on my maroon shirt.

You've got to be fucking joking me. That's my fourth shirt this week, and it's only fucking Tuesday.

Man, I've really got to stop killing those guys.

But they just piss me off. Today, Rosa called and I told the motherfucker to get out and he was just fucking sitting there like a fat piece of shit. Of course, I could tell something was wrong with her and it irritated the fuck out of me because I wasn't there to comfort her. I directed all my anger toward him and killed him.

And yesterday, the prick asked me how Rosa was doing. Like, what the fuck is it to him? She's my fucking girlfriend, no one else's. So, I shot him in the mouth.

I grab the bouquet of flowers and macarons before I leave the car. The bakery was on the verge of closing but made an exception when I walked in and ordered a box of macarons, with extra filling.

On the phone, she was very insecure and fucking depressed. I know how bad withdrawal symptoms can get so I wanted to do something that would make her smile.

I don't know how to show her how great of a mother she's going to be. We all have our doubts but she's worrying for no fucking reason. Rosa may not see it but she's already a mother. She handles that annoying blonde and my aggravating cousin splendidly whenever they fight and they listen to her.

My ears perk up at the sound of a gunshot coming from the house and adrenaline pumps through me as I, instinctively, sprint up the steps.

Rosa.

Fuck, fuck. She was having suicidal thoughts and must've gotten her hands on a gun and...

A looming cloud brews over me. It stops my breath, pumps my muscles faster, and weighs down my heart. I trace the sound to the kitchen and my mind has one goal: check if my Rosa is alright.

She can't be dead. She can't be...dead.

As soon as my eyes connect with her horror-filled, green ones, a sixty-foot wave of fucking relief crashes into me. My eyes do a hectic scan of her shaking body to see that she's unharmed and not covered in any blood, making my erratic heart calm down. She's okay, Luca.

Then, I spot Marco next to her as she rests her hand on his arm like they've just come out of a hug. He has his gun by his side, glaring dazedly at his dad, bleeding out all over my kitchen.

Thank fuck he's dead.

Without losing another millisecond, I hastily stroll over to Rosa and place the things in my hand on the counter. She meets me halfway and latches her arms around my waist, breathing me in deeply as if this is her first breath.

I press a lingering, sorrowful kiss on the top of her head and pull her close to me, grateful she's alive, grateful I can hold her again, fucking grateful she's not bleeding out.

"H-he was telling me that being a mother is hard a-and th-that I should put the b-baby out of its m-misery and then he offered me al-alcohol," she trembles with sobs, her words choked, "and the worst thing is Luca. I actually wanted to drink it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

That motherfucker. He fucking manipulated her. This is not good. She was already doubting herself before and he further poisoned the stigma in her mind.

And at this moment I knew that the only thing I needed to do was change myself for her. For most of my life, I've done many ruthless things to my feared reputation but none of that matters now. What matters is that I be the man she needs me to be.