Page 52 of Reckless Woman

He’s completely emotionless as he says it, which only spikes my fear. When Dante shuts down like this, his monster is roaring into life.

There’s something else he’s not telling me. Something worse. His dark eyes are as hard as flint. His face, like stone, but there are emotions moving just below his surface that he’s struggling to conceal.

Grief.

Rage.

I clutch at his hand as another contraction blasts me into the pain stratosphere. We ride it out together, with him never flinching as I crush every bone.

I try again. “What is it?”

“Not now. We have a baby to deliver.” He yanks my white dress up to my waist.

“Oh my God! Are you kidding me?” My voice rises hysterically. “You take life, Dante. You don’t birth it!”

“Well, we don’t have any other options until a new physician arrives. It could be hours.”

This can’t be happening.

I feel the mattress dip beside me. His mouth finds mine, his tongue snaking out to lap up the droplets of blood on my lip. “You can do this,mi alma,” he murmurs. “After what I’ve put you through, you can do fucking anything. You’re a Santiago, remember?”

I nod, holding his dark gaze as I suck in lungfuls of air to help conquer the rippling ache. “You need to tell me what the hell is going on, Dante.”

“No.”

“I’ll crush your other hand to a pulp…”

“After.”

After?

I can’t hold back any longer. My body is taking over. I bear down so hard I feel like my spine is going to crack.

“I’m scared,” I whisper, in between desperate pants.

“Don’t be.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Always,” he says fiercely, rising up to smash our mouths together again. “Now push.”

Chapter Fifteen

Viviana

Children are a flaw I’ll never be burdened with.

I’ve known this all my adult life, so it’s not like the primal screams echoing through these empty hallways are having any sort of sway over my decision.

Parents fail.

Children suffer.

I’ve seen it time and time again at Gabriela’s sanctuary in Leticia. I’ve watched all the broken hearts arrive at her front door, dragging their equally brokenniñasbehind them.

It’s all sotragic.

I’ve no interest in perpetuating that story, not when there are so many other uses for a life once it’s been handed back to you, like death and deceit, anger and revenge. It allows for moments such as these, when my lips are whistling out tunes of black satisfaction.