Page 110 of Ruined
Bratva puppet.
That scraped like glass in my throat. That’s all anyone saw when they looked at me. Not a man who’d dragged himself out of hell, but a broken thing the Bratva had owned for too long.
The family took me in because I’d saved Santino’s life, but that was where the trust ended. I wasn’tblood. Not when I’d been raised by the same men who’d killed their own.
“You can’t seriously believe that,” she whispered.
“Then why are we talking in Russian?”
“We can’t help how we were raised, Luca. I’m tired of you acting like you don’t matter. You’re the boy who made me laugh, even when the world was falling apart around me. You’re the man who risked everything to get us out of that garage alive. No matter what, you’ll always be my family.”
My throat closed up. I couldn’t answer. I gripped the sink tighter, staring at the drain like it might swallow me whole.
She sighed. “Sunday, seven o’clock. Just show up.”
The call ended.
I still carried pieces of the Bratva in me—tattoos, scars on my skin, instincts in my blood. When I was tired, I thought in Russian. Snapped into it like a habit I couldn’t kill. I had to be careful. One slip, and the family would treat me like a traitor.
I couldn’t let that happen. I’d lose everything.
And I couldn’t lose Dominic.
The ache in my chest twisted deeper. When Dominic looked at me, it wasn’t with suspicion. He sawme, not the wreckage I’d crawled out of. He touched me like I wasn’t ruined.
The way he kissed me burned the past out of me. His hand settled at the back of my neck like he knew I needed it there. He made me feel whole. He treated me like there wasn’t a single thing about me to be ashamed of, and it made me want to risk everything to be with him.
If Dominic ever found out about the blood on my hands, he’d look at me differently. I’d see nothing but shame staring back at me.
It would gut me.
But one thing would ruin me more—losing him.
TWENTY-SIX
DOMINIC
Three hours.
That’s all it took for my day to fall apart. I’d silenced my phone—twelve missed calls, all from the same number. By the time I left the meeting with my attorney, Frank’s wife had left a voicemail that could’ve peeled the paint off my car.
“How dare you? Christmas is around the corner. What am I supposed to tell my kids? One of you monsters put my Frank in the hospital. I know you had something to do with it. You’re always making him stay late?—”
She didn’t stop. Kept going for two solid minutes, ranting about how everything wrong with her life was somehow my fault. Apparently, Frank had been dropping my name every time he wanted to escape the house.I have to stay late. My boss needs me.
Coward.
I couldn’t blame her for hating me.
The hospital waiting room was a miserable place. Fluorescent lights buzzed, and the air smelled like antiseptic and bad coffee. The cheap chairs were packed with people.
Frank’s wife sat by the door, clutching a tissue. Mousy brown hair hung limp around her blotchy face. Her head snapped up when I walked in.
“You.”
I stopped a few paces from her. “Mrs. Tomasetti.”
She stood. “How dare you show your face here?”