“Stay put, you hear me?” He grabbed her close, imploring her with his eyes and the hard, desperate pound of his heart. “I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”
“Promise me.”
He dragged her against him and kissed her—a brief, but impassioned confirmation that he wasn’t about to lose her when they were so close to finally having a future together.
It wasn’t easy to release her.
But as the terrorized screams of Matera’s citizens continued to ring out, he knew he had little choice.
He turned to Scythe, now his unlikely ally. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter 12
The screams carrying down into the sassi from the city above only seemed to worsen in the few minutes after Ettore and Scythe had gone.
Those terror-filled shrieks—many of them agonized, final cries—left Bella shuddering and heartsick. Frightened to her marrow.
“We’re going to be all right,” she told Chiara and her frightened little boy, hoping her uncertainty didn’t show in her eyes. As much as she trusted that Ettore was a capable warrior—Scythe too—they were only two against what was easily three times as many Rogues.
If anything happened to Ettore…
“You love him, don’t you?” Chiara’s voice was gentle, sympathetic.
“I love him more than anything in this world. I’ve loved him since I was a girl, back at the vineyard.” She absently lifted her hand to the side of her neck, where she could still feel the claiming heat of Ettore’s bite. “We’re mated, Chiara. Our blood bond is only hours old.”
“Oh, Bella.” Chiara hugged her close. “You deserve this kind of happiness. You of all people deserve it.”
Did she?
Bella couldn’t help thinking that if not for her gift and Vito Massioni’s want of it, Chiara and Pietro would not have been pawns at his mercy all these years. If not for her, Massioni would be dead—finished by Ettore in his mission for the Order.
If not for trying to rescue her from Massioni’s villa, Ettore would already be back in Rome with his comrades, not swept into more violence and death.
High-pitched shrieks sounded again from somewhere outside.
“Momma!” Pietro whined, clutching at Chiara in wide-eyed alarm.
She picked him up and shushed him with tender words, rocking him. “It’s okay, piccolo. Momma’s here.”
Bella reached out to stroke the little Breed male’s head. “Why don’t you both go relax in the back bedroom? It’ll be quieter there.”
Sheltered deeper into the cave dwelling. Away from the sounds of chaos and slaughter outside.
“You’re sure?” Chiara gave her a dubious look. “I don’t like the thought of leaving you alone to wait out here.”
“Go,” Bella gently encouraged. “I’ll be fine. And soon Ettore and Scythe will be back.”
Another sharp cry rent the night, startling Pietro. He started to cry softly against his mother’s shoulder. Finally, on an apologetic nod, Chiara relented and turned to head back to the other room.
Bella took a seat in the living area, eyeing the weapons Ettore had given her. The gun and dagger rested on the side table next to her. She wished she were skilled enough to help him in some way. Feeling helpless made her antsy, made her mind spin from one disturbing thought to another.
She got up to pace the rug, worrying about Ettore. And the more she worried, the more she wondered if this random Rogue attack was actually random at all.
What if Vito Massioni had something to do with it?
She didn’t want to think about the vision she had scried earlier, but the truth was his hideous face had been seared into her mind ever since.
And as much as she dreaded the idea of glimpsing him again, she needed to see if she could learn anything more that might help Ettore and the Order prepare to destroy him.
Taking the gun into the small kitchen with her, she retrieved a rustic stone bowl and filled it with water from the sputtering tap. Although Scythe didn’t require mundane food or drink for nourishment as one of the Breed, his modest home had apparently been outfitted for human residents.
She stared into the bowl of water, trying to ignore all of the pain and death taking place outside her shelter. She focused all of her concentration on the clear pool, but nothing happened.
She tried again, praying for something.
Anything.
But the water gave her nothing.
Her gift refused to comply.
“Dammit.” She heaved a sigh, closing her eyes and lowering her head into her palms.
When she opened them again, she did see a face reflected in the water.
Vito Massioni’s hideous, disfigured face. His unblinking eyes stared back at her, the amber glow of them furious. Insane. Murderous.