Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

48 | Nina

I spend a good twenty minutes banging on the door. I bang until my fists are raw, and I even throw in some yelling, until my voice is hoarse and I am the weak girl who has come out of her frightened paralysis long enough to cry and beg for her life. 

I do it because of that look in Antonio's eyes. The one where he seemed to look through me instead of at me, in that off-kilter way of his. He's smarter than Luciano, that's for sure. I have to stay ahead of him.  

Eventually, I go back to Santo, but he's still unconscious, even through all that racket. Worry spikes in my chest.

I remind myself he's drugged, checking his pulse for good measure. It's strong, which loosens my shoulders in relief. He seems to mostly be sleeping, steady breaths pushing past his lips. His body is going through a lot, and I imagine so is his mind.

I reassure myself with these facts as I guide his head into my lap, wanting to look at him for a while as I think of the next part of my plan.

I'm still weaponless. I wish I'd smuggled one in—but I wasn't sure if Luciano would frisk me and couldn't risk it. I need to figure out how to get something, and I'm kicking myself for not grabbing a kitchen knife earlier. At least I'd have something. 

I'm so lost in my mind that I don't realize Santo is awake until he says my name.

"Nina," he rasps.

I freeze, watching him blink a few times, brows creased. "Yes, it's me. I'm here. Can you hear me?"

"Yes," he sighs, and I'm so happy.

"Santo," I half sob, "I'm going to get you out of here. I will. I promise, okay?"

A smile pulls on his lips, small but peaceful.

"Missed your voice. Thought I was losing it," he whispers.

"You're not. I'm here."

"Keep talking to me," he slurs a little, his head shifting to nestle into my stomach. "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I promise I won't," I cry, carding my fingers through his hair and watching as his big body curls around me, seeking out my warmth and comfort.

"I don't deserve this," he says into my skin. "You. This dream. So lovely."

"It's not a dream," I say. "I'm really here. Massimo, Samuel, and I came up with a plan, and—"

He releases a pained sound, pressing further into me. "Do you promise this is real?"

"Yes," I beg him to understand, wishing I could shake him out of the haze he's in. "Please look at me. Look at me. I love you." The fact he hasn't returned those words don't feel scary. It feels more like an opportunity.

He's always been trying to warn me, not accepting that I already know the darkness he sees in himself, that I've become acquainted with it and still chose him. When you beg for love and apologize for the cost of loving you in the very same breath, when you're stuck on the outside of something beautiful you've forsaken long ago—that kind of pain, it doesn't kill. It slowly strangles, lets you feel the outskirts of the lost paradise you've let slip through your fingers, and leaves the feathery remnants just within your reach, until you become half convinced it's not lost to you.

If he's shown me a family—people who look out for you, who love you in all the ways they're able—isn't lost to me, can I not show him the very same thing about love?

My heart leaps as his eyes finally focus a little, racing back and forth across my features.

"Hey," I smile, my hands all over his face. Sudden nerves curdle my stomach, unsure how he'll react. "I came for you."