Chiara had been trying to ignore Scythe’s unsettling presence ever since he arrived.
Impossible.
Not only because he was the kind of male who seemed to swallow up every bit of oxygen in the room, but because she had only moments ago been informed that he would be responsible for protecting her life.
He didn’t seem any happier about that idea than she was.
She could feel the weight of his cold obsidian gaze on her face, but she couldn't bring herself to look in his direction. She knew she was being stubborn, but dammit, Pietro was all she had.
More importantly, she was all he had too. They were a little family of two. Asking her to let him out of her sight in this situation was like asking her to hand over her beating heart in a basket.
“What if I took Pietro out of Italy instead? We can go to America for a while. We can hide somewhere together for as long as the Order needs us to. Anything but separating me from my child.”
If she'd hoped to get some vocal support from Bella, she'd been sorely disappointed. The room filled with a tense silence and Chiara’s nerves felt stretched and raw. She drifted over to the bar cart in the corner and poured herself a brandy from a crystal decanter.
Her mind grappled for some other argument, no matter how thin. Anything to keep her son close.
“The boy will be safer away from you, Chiara.”
It was Scythe’s deep voice that finally broke the silence, the first thing he’d said to her all night. She wheeled on him, her pulse pounding with unchecked fury at both his words and his uncanny ability to read her like a book. “Easy for you to say. How many children do you have?”
His hard gaze drilled into her for a long moment before he shook his head. “I have none.”
“Then how could you possibly understand the magnitude of what you're asking?” Her voice was trembling now, and she hated herself for it, but it couldn't be helped. “What kind of mother ships her child off for someone else to care for when there is danger near?”
Just the thought of it made her skin break out in a cold sweat.
But the Hunter wasn't giving up so easily. “A good mother. If the choice is keeping him close so you can be together when you die or letting him go and giving him his best chance of survival, you'd be foolish to consider the former. And selfish.”
He stepped away from his assumed post next to the door and moved into the center of the room. The space seemed to shrink with every step he took. By the time his long, muscled legs had brought him to within arm’s reach of her she was almost claustrophobic with the overwhelming size and power that emanated from him. He towered over her, his trim-bearded jaw set in a tight scowl.
“We know one thing. If this male truly wanted to kill you, he would have. Instead, when you fought back, he chose to retreat. He evidently wants you alive, and I’m guessing that’s because he wants you for his own.”
Dear God, she tried not to flinch at the idea, but the prospect of being taken by her attacker—or worse, shackled by a forced blood bond she would be powerless to break except in death—made her heart lurch in her breast.
Scythe’s voice took on a sober tone, but it was far from merciful. “Make no mistake, Chiara. Males who would stalk and mate without your consent are no better than animals. He won't want to share you with anyone, least of all a man-child you love with such deep devotion. The first thing he'll do once he has you is kill Pietro. I guarantee it.”
A ragged cry erupted from her throat and she held a hand to her mouth in horror.
Scythe’s dark brow furrowed into a scowl. “I know it’s hard to hear, but the safest place for your boy is wherever you aren’t.”
He was right. She knew it the second he'd spoken the words, but God. How could she bear being away from her son?
He'd already suffered so much in his very young life.
“If you agree to follow my instructions in this, I promise you'll be reunited with Pietro soon. I’ll stake my own life on that.”
She glanced at the others in the room, desperate for alternatives, yet knowing in her gut that she had to do what was best for her son. Even if it meant leaving Rome without him and putting her life in the hands of her unwanted guardian.
“If I have to protect you both,” Scythe muttered, “my attention will be split and neither of you will be truly safe.”
Arguing was futile at this point, and she knew it. Her only hope was that Scythe would keep his word and do his best to catch her assailant as quickly as possible. Then maybe she and Pietro could get back to the work of trying to have some semblance of a normal life.
She lifted the snifter to her lips in a trembling hand and took a long sip, relishing the heat blazing a path to her belly.