knew I'd fucked up. I'd broken her fucking heart, and I wasn't even man enough to cope with it. To apologize. I hadn't even done that. I'd stood there and taken all the shit she'd given me without resistance because I deserved it. Every last bit of her hatred and resentment.
I wore it like a ball and a chain.
I always would.
At least if she hated me, one day, she would be happy.
I didn't deserve her. She deserved better. Not someone who would lie to her, even if it was just so she wouldn't hurt.
Of course Gaige fucking Pontarelli would be the one who told her. Of course he'd be the one to put the nail in the coffin that was any chance of me being able to hold her for one more night.
I sat on the edge of the bed and dropped my head forward. My fingers dove into my hair, gripping it tightly. Like the barely there sting could ever beat out the repetitive gut punches of knowing I'd hurt her.
Knowing I'd let her go.
Run away.
Fuck.
What a fucking idiot.
I needed to find her—even if she hated me, even if she beat my ass down and called me every name in her two favorite languages, I needed to find her.
I got up and grabbed my jacket. I slung it on and then tucked my gun inside. It was loaded, it always was. It was always ready to kill. Like me. I cracked my neck side to side and, snatching up the backpack full of my shit, left the room.
The dim lights were still fucking flickering, and I couldn't take it any longer. I reached out and punched one, the smashing of the glass oddly soothing. Even the way my skin sliced open on my fist calmed me. Even as I looked down to see blood trickling out of my knuckle. I examined it closely—no glass. It'd stop soon.
I hoped.
I ran down the metal stairs to the parking lot, then froze. She had the car. Of course she did. How the fuck was I supposed to find her when she had four wheels and I had only two feet?
“Shit.” I ran my fingers through my air and scanned the lot aimlessly. I could steal one, I guess, but then if I was caught I'd definitely be no good to her.
“You won't find her.”
I turned at the sound of the familiar voice, and clenched my fist as he came out from the shadows. “The fuck are you doing here, Pontarelli?”
Gaige smirked. “Same thing you are, Rosso. Trying to protect her.”
“By lurking in shadows? That's my MO, don't you think?”
“You don't need to lurk. You're quick enough to kill without the shadows.” He rolled the sleeves of his sweater up, despite the slight chill in the air. “But you won't find her. She was already found.”
My muscles tightened all through my body, and adrenaline froze me. “What do you mean, she was already found?”
“Isaiah. You can't think he was honestly on her side, can you?” He raised his eyebrows and paused. “Oh, you did. You're a fucking idiot.”
My hand was around his throat and pinning him to the wall quicker than I could react. “Do you know how quickly I could kill you right now, Pontarelli?” I said in a dangerously low voice. I pulled out my gun and pressed it against his stomach. “I wouldn't even need this. I could snap your neck quicker than I could finish this sentence. Don't fuck with me where Adriana is concerned. I'll end you before you end your game.”
Panic flashed fleetingly in his eyes, and I let up my grip so he could speak. “Isaiah found you,” he rasped out. “He waited until she was alone. When she left not long ago, he followed her. He's got her.”
“How do you know this?” I didn't want to focus on the anger that was building in my stomach. If I did, it would consume me, and I'd never get the answers I wanted.
If it consumed me, I would see red. I'd want to kill everyone that crossed my path, starting with this pezzo di merda in front of me.
“Why the fuck didn't you help her? What are you doing here?” The questions fired off of my tongue before I could think each one through.
“Can you put me the fuck down, man? I'm on your fucking side, Rosso.”
The look in his eye was honest, so I let him go. Kept my gun pointed at him, though. I didn't