Chapter 6 - Confessions in the DarkMarius pulled a heavy matte-black SIG Sauer pistol from a holster concealed under his jacket, racked the slide with a sharp clack, and rolled onto his knee.
Through the broken window frame, three men in tactical gear and black balaclavas leaped into the library, their submachine guns raised.
Marius didn't hesitate.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three precise shots shattered the darkness. The figures dropped instantly, their blood spraying across the white Venetian marble floor. I covered my mouth to muffle a scream. I had managed his logistics for three years, but I had never seen Marius kill up close. It was terrifyingly beautiful—he moved with the terrifying speed of an apex predator.
More footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. The house was under full siege.
"The safe room," Marius grunted, grabbing my hand and hauling me up. "Now!"
We sprinted through the smoke-filled corridor. Bullets chipped away at the marble statues and oil paintings lining the hallway. Marius fired blind behind him, keeping the attackers at bay while keeping his body firmly positioned between the line of fire and me.
We reached his private study at the end of the hall. He shoved me inside, slammed the reinforced steel door, and engaged the heavy digital deadbolts.
The heavy door muted the chaos outside to a dull, rhythmic thrumming of gunfire and muffled explosions.
Marius leaned against the steel door, breathing heavily. He lowered his gun, his chest heaving.
"Are you hit?" he asked urgently, his hands flying over my shoulders, my arms, my waist, searching for blood. "Bianca, look at me. Are you hurt?"
"I... I'm okay," I stammered, my body shaking violently from shock. "Marius... your shoulder..."
I pointed to his left arm. Dark red blood was blooming rapidly through the fine silk of his white shirt, dripping down onto his knuckles.
"It's just a graze," he muttered, dismissing it instantly.
He walked over to a steel cabinet, pulled out a medical kit, and threw it onto his desk. But as he tried to open the rubbing alcohol with his right hand, his left arm buckled. He let out a low, guttural hiss of pain.
I swallowed my terror, stepped forward, and took the medical kit out of his hands. "Sit down," I commanded.
Marius looked at me, surprised, but obeyed. He sat on the edge of the heavy oak desk while I pulled up a chair.
My hands were shaking, but as I cut away the blood-soaked fabric of his sleeve, my training took over. The bullet had torn a nasty trench along his bicep, but it hadn't lodged in the muscle.
"This is going to burn," I whispered, pouring antiseptic directly onto the open wound.
Marius didn't even flinch. His gray eyes were locked onto my face, watching every micro-expression as I carefully cleaned and bandaged his flesh.
"Why didn't you let them hit me?" I asked quietly, wrapping the gauze tightly around his muscular arm. "If I die, your secret dies with me. You're free."
Marius reached up with his uninjured hand, his large, warm palm gently resting over my hand on his arm.
"If you die, Bianca," he said, his voice dropping into a desperate, raw whisper, "there is no reason for me to wake up tomorrow. Do you really not understand? I didn't keep you near me to hide my sins. I kept you near me because you were the only light left in my miserable, bloody existence."
I looked up, meeting his gaze. The mask of the cold, ruthless Don was completely shattered. Standing in front of me was a man tormented by his past, desperate for a redemption he didn't believe he deserved.
"Marius..." I breathed.
Before I could process it, he pulled me forward by the waist, burying his face into the crook of my neck. He breathed me in deeply, his frame trembling slightly against mine.
"Hate me," he whispered desperately against my skin. "Despise me. Curse my father's name. But don't leave me, Bianca. Please. Don't leave me."
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My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. The anger I had felt in the library dissolved, replaced by a fierce, suffocating wave of emotion I could no longer deny. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, pressing him close, resting my cheek against his dark hair.
"I'm not leaving," I murmured into the quiet room. "Not tonight."
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