The Thistles of Rose

14 • Enamoured

♚ Luca ♚

She was dozing off in my arms. I carried her upstairs, changed her clothes and tucked her into bed. But, before she fell asleep, she gave me my ring and pointed at the inside of it.

It had her name inscribed on the platinum metal. Tiredly, she smiled and slipped it onto my finger. It matches the black wolf ring I wear and I know that was intentional from her.

I cradled her to sleep. It didn't take her long. I know her dreams will haul in the monster of her mind even more.

Her sobs broke my heart as they do every time. But this time, they were different. They were angry rather than sad.

I got her to calm down before she hurled her dinner out. It doesn't help the fact she's gone worryingly thin. She was getting much healthier but the miscarriage set her back tremendously. I tried to get her to eat for days after it happened and she wouldn't.

The words on my tongue felt like poison but I had to emotionally blackmail her. I could see in her grief-stricken, green eyes that she knows how much her pain affects me too. Eventually, after I told her to eat for me, she did.

Doctors don't do shit. I've paid them a fortune to make her fucking better and they say there's nothing more they can do and it's all up to her.

She's not well, at all. And I don't know what to fucking do.

I leave a delicate kiss on her forehead and a grey lump of fur jumps up onto the bed.

"Look after her, boy," I whisper, caressing the soft fur on his head. Ricky wags his tail and pants with his tongue hanging out his mouth. Then, he snuggles in the spot next to Rosa's sleeping figure.

Leaving the room, I stroll downstairs where I hear the voices coming from the living room. I instructed Marco to get Mancini over so we could discuss what the fuck we are going to do.

Mancini's sitting on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands, his blonde hair scruffy and his boots tapping onto the floor. Marco paces in front of him, anxiously, clasping his hands together.

"It's too risky," Mancini sighs at whatever Marco said.

"I'm only thinking about what's best for her, Brando. Look at her. She's as thin as a stick. It's killing her," Marco gushes hot with anger as he spouts his words out, quickly.

"You're right, Marco," I say, strolling over to the cabinet in the corner. They both stay quiet as I pour myself a glass of whiskey and sit down on the couch with the decanter. After taking a sip, I confirm, "it is killing her but we need to tread carefully here."

"Oh, for fucks sake!" Marco curses loudly, "Ricardo is the issue. You know where he is. Go and fucking kill the bastard and let her have what she wants."

I've never seen him even remotely close to angry. Except for now.

"It's not that easy," Mancini shakes his head and I twirl my glass around, listening for the soft clinks of ice.

"Yes, it is. You're making it difficult," Marco points accusingly at Mancini and then darts his eyes at me, "why though? What's holding you back?"

All I want to do is kill that motherfucker. This all happened because I didn't fucking kill him in the first place and I'd never be able to shake that guilt off.

But, the terms have changed. I need to put her first. After everything he has done, she will always have a fucked-up part of her that still loves him. I don't fucking know why. She just does.

And ending his life may just be the thing that plunges her into the wormhole of insanity. I can't risk that. I can't risk losing another important part of my life to him.