Page 110 of Trapped

My throat tightened. “What’s he doing there?”

“Causing trouble. Not just with the talent, but civilians too. It’s getting out of hand. Someone needs to pull him back before he does something crazy.”

My stomach clenched. “I’ll go to him. I’ll talk sense into him.”

Kill opened the door. “I’ll take you.”

I grabbed my coat, and Kill led the way. As we headed out, my heart pounded. This wasn’t just a rescue mission. It was the last chance to salvage our relationship or, at the very least, bring him back from the brink before he destroyed himself.

“Thanks for coming with me,” I said as I got into his car.

“It’s what family does.” Kill started the engine and drove out of the parking garage.

When we arrived, the place was buzzing with the usual nighttime crowd. I followed Kill, his presence clearing a path through the crowd.

Stepping inside the room that held the ring was like entering a world where the rules of the outside didn’t apply. The stench of blood and sweat saturated the air. I scanned the crowd, searching for Santino.

Kill nodded toward the far corner. A group of guys shoved each other. Santino stood in the center of the commotion, his fists balled and his shirt ripped. Men in suits formed a ring around him, blocking from a shirtless man wearing red boxing gloves. Santino was fighting the only way he knew how.

I’d done that to him.

I’d made him feel unwanted, too scared to admit I loved him. I hated that I’d shown it by pushing him away. I’d been so focused on not getting hurt that I didn’t see how I was hurting us both, maybe beyond repair.

My whole life, I’d been discarded. I entered a relationship with Santino, expecting him to let me go after he had his fill. Instead he’d kept me around. Offered me a life with him. Practically begged me to say yes. And I’d been too caught up in my demons to realize that we belonged together. My heart ached to see him so lost and desperate.

I had something beautiful with this man.

But if I didn’t claim him now, I’d lose him.

“Santino!”

My voice barely cut through the din of the crowd.

His head snapped up, eyes locking onto mine. For a split second, everything around us faded—the noise, the chaos, the ring. He didn’t move.

Kill sighed. “Let me talk to him first. Stay here.”

He approached Santino, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Santino turned, his expression bestial. They exchanged a few words, too low for me to hear over the music, and then Santino’s posture relaxed.

Kill motioned for me to come over. I took a deep breath and moved forward, my heart pounding. Santino was battered but still so damn beautiful. His eyes met mine, a mix of emotions flickering across his face—anger, confusion, and something that looked painfully like regret.

I pushed through the crowd until I stood in front of him.

His lips flattened. “Go home, Delilah.”

“No.”

His nostrils flared, and a few of his men winced.

I ignored them. “We need to talk.”

I took his hand, drawing him away from the men. He resisted. His black eyes blazed with need, but something kept him from falling into my arms like he usually did. Pride, maybe.

So I kissed him.

I linked my arms around his neck and poured my feelings into a kiss. My hands framed his face. He tasted like whiskey, and it made me crave every sweep of his tongue. His mouth softened, and his arms wound my waist, anchoring me to his body. Ipulled back and gently took the lead again. I tugged on his hand. He followed, grabbing his jacket from a chair.

Once we stood outside, alone in the parking lot, I ran my fingers over his bloody hand.