Deadly Vows Rewrite - Chapter Twenty-Seven (Patreon)

Elise 

Being married to Luca has presented me with a level of anxiety I never thought possible. He has yet to return home. The sun has begun its descent, and I am all alone in the estate with Luca’s men to keep me company as they make sure I don’t have contact with my brother. This isn’t the first time Luca has abruptly left without telling me what’s going on. But with everything going on between our families and my brother’s sudden appearance, the more Luca leaves, the more nervous I become.

By the time Luca comes back, I am seconds from falling asleep on the couch, and the sun has disappeared entirely, casting our home in the dark other than the glow of the TV. I hear his slow, deliberate footsteps as he comes to find me and I pull in a deep breath as he enters the living room, standing from the couch to greet him. But my words hitch in my throat as I take in his drenched form.

I furrow my brow in confusion. It’s hard to tell what he’s soaked in since most of the lights are off in the house, and the only illumination comes from the TV. But he remains where he is, watching me with an eerie expression as I slowly approach.

“Luca? Are you okay?” I ask softly.

He doesn’t respond; his focus is entirely on me as I approach. His breathing is slow and steady, and as I come to stand in front of him, I slowly reach for his face, curious as to what could possibly have his hair sticking to him.

“Luca—”

I tense as the metallic stench of blood hits my nose. Before I can pull away, Luca’s hand lashes out, and he pulls me flush against him, the blood covering him oozing into my wrist from his tight grip.

I struggle, my panic hitching in my throat as I try not to scream—not to set him off as he nuzzles his nose in my neck. He is obviously not himself right now. He’s in bloodlust.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs.

His hand presses against my cheek, and I swallow my scream as blood presses between his palm and my skin. But the shock gives me just enough energy to rip myself from his grip, stumbling back until I hit the back of the couch, flipping over it.

I cry out, scrambling to my knees before looking at my hands. The blood, though thick, is old. It can’t be Luca’s. He wouldn’t be standing here looking at me if it were. Which means it belonged to more than one person who is more than likely dead as my husband stands before me, a grin on his lips.

He lowers himself to his knees, his hand reaching for my ankle. I look around in a panic, praying that some of his men are near to stop this, but I see no one. So, I try to diffuse the situation.

“Luca, listen to me—ah!” I cry out as he pulls me by my ankle, dragging me so that I am trapped beneath his bloodied body. The blood from his shirt seeps into mine as he pushes my hair from my face, his lips finding mine.

“I just want to love you,” he murmurs against my lips.

My heart beats rapidly when I feel his erection pressing against me, his tongue pushing into my mouth.

“You’re not yourself right now!” I cry out, pulling my face away from his.

But he grips my face between his hands, roughly holding me as he studies my panicked expression.

“I will protect you, Elise. Always. I won’t let them get you,” he murmurs. He once again goes for my throat, his tongue licking over my pulse as his cheek smears more blood against mine, and I can no longer try to diffuse the situation.

I scream.

“Stop! Luca, stop!” I shriek, struggling beneath him.

But he places his hand against my mouth, the smell of blood filling my senses and activating my gag reflexes. I vomit all over Luca’s hand. He cringes, his expression shifting to disgust as he pulls away from me, and I take the opportunity to kick him off of me. My foot lands perfectly with his chest, and I hear him cry out as I take off out of the living room.

“Elise!” I hear him call after me as the stairs come into view.

I am inches reaching the bottom steps when Luca collides with me, his steely grip holding me captive as he pulls me away from the stairs.

“Let me go!” I scream, my legs flailing as I try to break free.

Whatever Luca left to do must have been something bloodier than anything he’s ever done before. I’ve never seen him like this. Not even when his father was shot dead in front of him. He’s gone completely insane.

I break free from Luca’s grasp, whipping around to face him. His face is set in anger as he glares at me.

“You don’t run from me! You are my wife! You don’t know what I have done to keep you alive!” he shouts.

Before he can get anything else out, he is tackled. Nicolai and Romelo both wrestle with Luca, trying to calm him as I back away. But his eyes are set on me in a murderous rage. I notice Nicolai is covered in blood as well, obviously having accompanied Luca to whatever massacre they attended this afternoon.

“Run! Go lock yourself in a room—”

They continue to struggle, but Luca is skilled. His elbow comes up, cracking Nicolai in the face, his eyebrow splitting as blood comes pouring down his face.

“Fuck, Luca!”

But he isn’t listening. He’s after me.

“Don’t you dare!” Luca growls out, but I am up the stairs before he can finish his sentence. I run into one of the guest rooms, locking the door before I frantically pull whatever furniture I can in front of it. And as I collapse in exhaustion, my hands trembling as I hold my hair out of my face, I scream.

“Fuck!”

I beat my fists against the floor as hard as I can, letting my frustration out. I am stuck here—stuck in this life, stuck with a man who kills to survive. A person my father signed me off to for the sake of the boy my husband is now keeping on a leash. I am married to this twisted man. And there is nothing I can do to change him.

* * * * *

It’s raining.

It isn’t a light rain, either. It’s heavy and dark—the kind that washes away the Earth. I slowly open my eyes as the heavy vibrations of thunder penetrate my sleep. I am not in my bed. As I sit up, I notice the tightness of my skin.

Blood is crusted to my arms and under my fingernails, staining the front of my clothes and the sheets I fell asleep on top of last night.

I release a bitter chuckle.

This room doesn’t have a bathroom attached. But I can’t sit here any longer in these clothes. I need to get out of them. I slowly rise from the bed, my muscles aching and sore from the panic of last night as I remove the furniture from in front of the door. I try to keep my emotions at bay as I pull open the door, and the silence of my home greets me.

Luca is nowhere in sight.

I don’t go to our bathroom. I go to the nearest bathroom I can, peeling the blood-crusted clothes from my skin as the water emits steam. It isn’t until I step under the warm spray, my eyes falling to the dirty water that comes off of me, that I break down.

I grab a bar of soap, scrubbing my skin as best I can, using my nails to scrape up whatever is left. I grit my teeth in pain as the hot sting of the water becomes unbearable, welcoming the feeling. It gives me a sense of control over myself and my life. At this moment, I can decide whether or not to stop inflicting this pain. I can choose to feel it. And when my skin begins to turn pink from rubbing myself raw, I collapse on the floor, quietly letting my sobs loose.

* * * * *

I don’t know what to expect as I finally garner enough strength to leave the confines of the bedroom. The house is quiet, and I don’t know whether I will run into Luca this morning. I pray that I don’t. I don’t know what brought on his attacks last night, and I don’t want to know. The more I think about it, the more I fear what it could mean— whose death it could be and whether or not it is my family.

I step into the kitchen, pausing when I see Nicolai with his back to me. He turns when he hears me enter, and I gasp as I take in his face. He has fresh stitching above his eye and a ghastly bruise that is slowly turning his eye black.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming down,” he says as he tries to duck out of the kitchen, but I stop him.

“What happened last night?” I whisper as I eye the bruise on his face.

He hesitates, his eyes shifting to the archway that exits out of the kitchen.

“I’m not allowed to say anything, Mrs. Pasquino,” he says.

“Nicolai. We’re leaving.”

We both turn to see Romelo standing in the archway, his cold expression shifting over both of us.

“Excuse me,” Nicolai says, brushing past me.

Romelo watches him as he leaves before his attention shifts to me.

“It’s not his fault. Sometimes he loses control… Try not to hold it against him,” Romelo says.

I don’t respond, watching him in shock. Romelo rarely speaks, and when he is around me he never acknowledges my existence. This is the first time and it’s for Luca’s sake.

Romelo doesn’t wait for my response, making his way out of the kitchen. I quietly peek out of the archway just in time to see Luca, cleaned of all of the blood that was covering him and seemingly of sound mind as he leads his men to do something else this morning. He's dressed in a dark suit, his hair perfectly pushed out of his face, and his expression is blank and determined.

I almost call out to him. And decide against it. Luca has never been one to restrain himself or even think he is in the wrong. But he has clearly been awake longer than me and hasn’t sought me out all morning. Whatever his reasons, I’m not going to do anything to influence his actions.

So I quietly make my way back into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee and have a moment to myself of comfort and calm as my husband once again leaves without warning to do something that would more than likely get the average man killed.