Scythe complied in utter silence. After shrugging the crossbow off his back, he placed two pistols and a couple of long daggers in the grass at his feet. Then he stood unmoving, his arms down at his sides. What her captor didn’t seem to understand was that Scythe was no invalid in any sense of the word. He was a Gen One, and a former Hunter besides. Even with one hand, he was more lethal than ten Breed males like this scum who held her now.
But Scythe was worried for her. His fear for her could cost him.
“Scythe.” She tried to tell him with her eyes, and with their bond, not to risk himself trying to save her.
If he felt her warning, he gave no sign.
Outside, he was the picture of careful surrender. Inside, beyond his concern, he was raging with animosity and the urge to deliver death in the worst way. His fury gave her hope, but it also terrified her. She knew he would only obey her assailant until the first inkling of opportunity presented itself. He would still give up his life if it meant saving hers.
When he finally spoke, his cool voice belied the tumult of his intentions. “Whatever you think this woman has done to wrong you, you’re mistaken. She’s innocent.”
“Innocent.” The male holding her practically spat the word. “Tell that to my brother. He’d be alive if not for her.”
Chiara had to struggle to summon her voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who you are. I never met your brother.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, bitch.” The gun held to the side of her head dug deeper into her temple. “My brother, Luigi, was gunned down by the Order in that driveway out there six weeks ago. All because of you and that whelp of yours. Massioni should’ve killed both of you along with that piece of shit Sal Genova.”
Luigi.
That was the name of one of the thugs Vito Massioni used to send out to the villa from time to time. She remembered Luigi now. He and the other Breed male who generally accompanied him on Massioni’s orders used to enjoy intimidating her with innuendos and bullying threats about her little boy.
She had been glad to find out that Ettore had shot both of the men when he and Bella escaped Massioni and came to the vineyard to take Chiara and Pietro with them to a safe house.
Scythe’s house, as it had turned out.
“If the Order killed your brother, take it up with them,” Scythe said, his voice measured and cautious. “Put your blame where it belongs, not with a defenseless female.”
“Defenseless?” Her captor chuckled. “There’s plenty of fight in this one. I like it when they resist a little. Or a lot.”
As if to demonstrate, her captor tightened his hold around her neck. She let out a choked gasp, wishing she had some reserves left of her power so she could blast him back to the hole he crawled out from under.
Scythe’s blood answered her misery with a soothing calm that she felt as tangibly as if he’d touched her. She couldn’t see his face through the darkness that shrouded him, but she felt his love. She felt his promise.
We’ll come through this.
Together.
She nodded faintly, trust in him—in the promise of their love—buoying her.
“She’s even lovelier up close, don’t you agree?” The gun pressed to her temple now began to slide down the side of her face in an obscene caress. He skimmed it over her breast and down the front of her body. “I don’t usually enjoy sloppy seconds, but I’ll make an exception with her.”
The nose of the gun drifted lower, toward her sex. Scythe growled, the first betrayal of his fury.
Her assailant’s answering laughter was coarse with twisted glee. “Careful, now. You don’t want to test me. I’ll do whatever I want with her. She’s all mine.”
Chiara felt something flip inside Scythe. Her bond to him went electric. And then, just like that, he was airborne, leaping forward in one blinding motion. Her body listened to their bond, telling her instantly what to do. Perfectly in sync with him, as if it were a dance they had choreographed and practiced a thousand times, Chiara let her knees give way, dropping to the floor like a stone.
Scythe crashed into her captor, his right arm flat across the male’s throat, driving him backward, into the wall. He had the gun stripped from his opponent’s hand before Chiara realized it.
“You’re wrong, you son of a bitch.” Scythe jammed the pistol between the male’s bulging eyes. He pulled the trigger and two shots slammed home. “She’s mine.”
Chapter 14
Scythe held Chiara against him under the warm spray of the shower. He didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d carried her away from the carnage outside and into the house. He only knew that he never wanted to let her go again.