He is a force to be reckoned with. A lift of his finger & people are beheaded in seconds. A word from him & the streets of NY are bathed in blood. Any evil deed, you name it & he has done it. Vicious, nefarious, brutal & downright cruel. Majestic in...
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(50 votes and 150 comments for next chapter. I won't update otherwise)
Alessandro's POV~
My hands clench and unclench with a gnawing sense of unease. Shooting a frustrated glance at Damien beside me, I mutter in a low, gravelly voice, “Why did you come along? She is alone back home.”
“She is not alone. Dino is with her.”
That is the fucking problem.
“Still,” I grumble, leaning back into the leather seat as my fingers do a quick work of opening a couple buttons of my shirt, trying to cool off the sweat dampening my skin.
I am sweating too damn much today.
Damien arches a brow, studying me. “You alright, man?”
I push my tongue against the inside of my cheek, nodding faintly. “Yeah.”
I am not alright, though. Something in me feels wrong — twisted and frayed, as if an invisible thread is pulling tighter with each second, suffocating me. I do not know what exactly it is, but I feel like my Angel is not well. That something is wrong. As if something bad is going to happen.
The memory of her crying face is still stuck before my eyes. I have not seen her cry like that since the death of her parents, right after which she passed out in my arms. What if she has fainted again?
I will be gone for a month.
Who is going to look after her in my absence? Who is going to cook her healthy meals or slip into the bedroom to hold her writhing body close when nightmares strike her under the influence of pain meds? Who will hide chocolates around the room to lift her mood after an argument? Who will restock the fridge with her favourite cookies even before they run out? Who will spend each night wide awake, sitting by her bedside just to make sure she gets her sleep well? Who will remember her menstrual cycle, get her ice-cream in the middle of the night, and turn off the AC at 2:30 a.m. every night because that is the time she usually starts feeling cold?
Fuck it, I feel so restless.
Anastasia Hill has survived just fine before meeting me, has she not? Then why do I seem to hold my breath every time she takes a step now, bracing myself to catch her if she falls?
She is only a few months shy of leaving her teenage behind. So surely not a baby. She is perfectly capable of handling herself. Yet, to me, she is. My baby. My responsibility. The one I am supposed to protect for the rest of our lives, come hell or high water.
