Trigger (Pericolo #3)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “It’s not like that,” she argues, her voice already wracked with tears. “I’m not lying about that. Okay, I hid the file, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “Again with the fucking lies!” I bellow, my voice echoing into the night. “You’ll do anything to get yourself out of trouble, just like everyone else.” I step forward, closing the gap. “I think I’ve just found your price,” I say, speaking so venomously the words leave a bitterness in my mouth. “But I’m not going to pay for it!”

  I take her by the wrist, this time viciously wrapping my fingers around her tiny, fragile arm and yank her forward. I drag her with me, uncaring of how she handles my roughness. When we’re nearly at the bottom, I throw her, unable to keep a connection with her. I feel like she’s the greatest burn I’ll ever feel and one I can never recover from. She meant more to me than she knew and I fucking foolishly fell for the guise she presented so fucking perfectly.

  I watch her fall, her entire body crashing to the floor. For a moment, she barely moves, gaining her bearings after the fall. For once, I don’t care if she’s hurt. Slowly, she moves on all fours, pushing herself up and I wish I had never allowed her to get to this point in our life together. She weakened the beast in me and made me care, but now I wish I had humiliated and defiled her in the worst ways possible.

  "Am I more than you bargained for yet, little wolf?” I ask her, towering over her small body as she finally stands. “Because you are far more than I expected you to ever be!"

  “You’re exactly what I expected you to be, you asshole!” she mutters, turning her back on me to go over to her bag. She finally offers me one single ebb of her fight strength, but that’s it.

  “Think I’m going to let you leave that easy?” I ask her, chasing behind her only to tear her away from her bag and pin her against the wall immediately to her left. “I’m not done with you yet. I just wanted a little more privacy to finalize this arrangement we have.” I catch sight of the wild terror in her eyes. It causes me to laugh. “Ah, now you see the man you fell for without your rose-colored spectacles. What do I look like, little wolf?”

  She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t look away from me with fear. Not even as I run my open palm around her neck.

  “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, Ryleigh. I could never kill you.” I lean in, my eyes matching hers. “Living is a far worse punishment I could issue you than something as final as death. That’s my gift to you... living knowing that there will be a day I will exact revenge for everything you’ve done to me. I don’t play nice with psychotic liars at the best of times, and just because you were a good fuck and a brilliant whore for some time doesn’t mean I’ll go lightly. You’ll get what’s deserved.”

  Now, I deliver the first part of her life sentence without me.

  I kiss her.

  My hand curls around the curve of her neck, dominating the moment. My lips crash onto hers so heavily, she moans. She doesn’t give in to the kiss. I feel she wants to, but she fights me. I pull away when a new onslaught of tears hits my hand, creeping into the crevices formed between her beautifully smooth skin and those calluses on my palm.

  “One for the road, cara,” I tell her, patting her cheek as I finally release her. That’s the last kiss I’ll ever have with this woman. From the looks of it, it destroyed her as much as it has me. “Now, get the fuck out!” I scream in her face, finally beginning to pull myself away from her. “What we started ends here, Ryleigh. There is no us, no future, no nothing. What we were doing has no right to continue. All of your contracts with the clubs are hereby terminated. If I catch you near any of the clubs, and I mean any of them, I will have you arrested for trespassing.”

  She stands frozen, paralyzed as the grief falls like torrents around her. I’ve never seen her like this at my peril, but I’ve finally done it. In the light of the new evidence, in my new form of white-hot fury, she finally looks completely terrified of me. However, when she finally opens her eyes and looks at me, it’s not terror that swaths me. No, it’s something I’ll never forget. When she looks at me, she looks completely broken. Grief, shame, and regret all lace her eyes, but her broken heart is the one I cannot ignore.

  And I can’t bear to watch any longer.

  “Now get out of my fucking sight before I have to forcibly remove you!” I order, pointing at the door. Finally moving, she grabs her bag, reaching for the file. “Leave the fucking file.”

  “Dante,” she starts. My name is bitter to hear in her voice. “Please, I need that!”

  “You need nothing, but to get the hell out of my fucking apartment!”

  “Fine, just let me explain. You’ll see that it isn’t a game to me. I’m here to play by your side, Dante!” she argues, pleading for a voice. “I was always your toy, you made that known, but I wasn’t here to play games with your heart as you did mine!”

  “I am playing far more dangerous games than the one to do with your heart!” The rage gets the better of me at that instant. “Your heart is something I broke in one fell swoop. It wasn’t even a game for me. It just happened, but what I do in my life is a far grander game than you can ever imagine playing.”

  “I think we’re playing the same game!” she argues again, trying in vain to make me listen.

  “Unlikely,” I tell her, my voice incredulous and mocking. “You couldn’t even brave the game I am playing. You’re not cut out for what I have planned.”

  “You know that’s not true,” she argues, but her voice is starting to fail her. "Your grandfather stole everything away from me, but unlike you, Dante, I was left with no family, no hope, and no life.” She starts to speak bitterly, and although I don’t want to hear it, she’s not going to stop. “Finding out the truth was all I had in this life! It’s all I have. I had to do something to find out what happened. I had to do something to payback for everything that happened to my family and me! I’m sorry that our lives match as they have, but I’m not sorry that they have brought me to you.” Suddenly, she looks down, tears back in full force. Her entire fight loosens from her body and she seemingly gives up. “I’m truly sorry it was you I had to fall in love with. That’s not something I’ll ever recover from,” she says brokenly before starting to take her leave. “But you’re right, it all ends here.”

  With that final piece said, she leaves me.

  I don’t follow, don’t throw any more callous words around, and I don’t threaten her or belittle her. I just let her leave. As the silence settles around me, the stillness of the entire apartment becomes too much for me to bear. It’s in the solitude that I finally take note of the painful throb forcing its way into my chest, causing my heart to palpitate. Bringing my hand up, I rub my ribcage in vain hope that it’ll help, but this ailment isn’t something of a physiological cause.

  This is the aftermaths of heartbreak. This is the Ryleigh Turner effect. This is death incarnate.

  I swing around, my hands catching the lamp beside me, and I catapult it across the room. The noise it makes as it shatters against the varnished oak flooring sends me into a frenzy. I throw anything I can get in my hands. I don’t care for the destruction and chaos I’m reaping on the apartment, my one place of solace, because, right now, it feels anything but that. Grabbing onto the file, I toss it down, and the contents scatter everywhere around me.

  I look down, my chest heaves on ragged inhalations, but my eyes first catch a photo of my parents and then a photo of Ryleigh. It’s enough to bring me to my knees. I sit, lifeless, my arms hanging limply by my side as I stare at all the information that merges our lives into one. Collapsing completely, I sit staring absentmindedly at everything her private investigator had found and I start to reach for pieces of paper.

  This file lists Ryleigh’s entire life in this file while it only mentions my past.

  As I read over the notes her PI had made, I piece every fine detail of the atrocities that rocked Brooklyn over two decades ago and I finally start to see sense. My flash of ang
er dissolves, especially when I find writing on the side. It’s different from the other, and I can only assume it’s Ryleigh’s. It’s further confirmed as I read what is jotted down.

  Must ask Dante for more details. Were we really the only two survivors?

  I read on, trying to find notes that could incriminate her

  Does Dante know about his grandfather’s involvement? MUST TELL HIM!!!

  I think about our rocky relationship and realize that since receiving this file, Ryleigh never had a damn opportunity to tell me about the file. That one night she tried, I cast her aside. Love wounded me and I was afraid to fail if I let it in. Instead, it was another time I brushed her aside.

  Hindsight is twenty-twenty when you finally allow yourself time to reflect. Ryleigh never used me as a pawn; she only found out we had unwittingly grown up with a tragic connection. I always knew there was another sole survivor besides me, but I never expected fate to throw her into my life with quite so much passion.

  I’d be a fucking fool if I didn’t just accept it now. I fell in love with her from the start – not for how she made my heart sing, but for how she made my demons weep. She rivaled every one of them, obliterated everything created from them, and replaced them with an ebb of hope that only continues to grow daily.

  My demons became quieter as my heart beat louder.

  Yet I had never voiced any of that. I had shielded myself from believing it true, but slowly, I started to realize that in quick succession, I had fallen in love with Ryleigh Turner. I let her in. I broke the only promise I held onto so tightly and this was my repayment – absolute, earth-shattering heartbreak.

  And all I know is I should get up off the fucking floor and find her.

  I’ve never loved anyone like this. It’s consuming and frightening all at once, but it fills me with hope. She forces a beat into my heart, a light into my soul, and a reason to be someone’s everything. Yet I tore it all away just because I allowed my rage to blind me – once again.

  Rash decisions and anger-fueled reactions built my entire life. Yet again, I had allowed it to overrule my better judgment and cloud my rationality. She caused a gauntlet of emotions I never knew I could feel, but she made sure I felt every single one of them.

  Sitting here, I realize Ryleigh Turner was the only trigger I ever needed in this life. She was the reward when all this paid off and I lost her.

  No, I hadn’t lost her.

  I had discarded of her in true Dante fashion, and I had threatened the very life she was already barely holding on to.

  How could I ever make this right?

  16RYLEIGH

  I haven’t been able to stop the tears since I fled.

  In all honesty, while I knew the truth, life eclipsed its importance. I wasn’t with Dante for the truth or the road to revenge, but for him. I followed him because of how he made me feel as a human. He burst this dark source of light onto me and thrust it so vibrantly into my soul. He made me believe that, finally, there would be a life for me after all the tragedy that had fallen onto my path.

  He gave me hope, and my resistance with honesty had caused it all to crash down around me. I hurt him and I deserved this reaction. I deserved to feel the wrath of Dante Valentino when I should’ve trusted him enough to tell him all that I knew. I know I tried once and failed, but I shouldn’t have stopped. Regardless of what I was dealing with, I should have fought tooth and nail to tell him every single detail that linked us to one another and I should not have feared the fallout.

  Now, without daring to do so, I’m left defeated and far more pitiful than I have been in my entire life.

  Standing in the middle of my sparse bedroom, I wonder what I should do with myself. Through streaming tears, I wonder if I should curl onto my bed and sob my broken heart away, or go climb into the shower and cry as I did last night. But then the best idea of all strikes me – leave.

  The tiny voice that whispers that alluring thought forward doesn’t need to echo the word again because I fall for it hook, line, and sinker. I have nothing left. Dante has stripped me of work, and even though I know that, without any doubt, Jackson would fight for me, Dante is not a man I want to see again after that departure.

  I destroyed the trust we were building. Although it was rocky, we still had a mutual understanding of what the other was expecting and we trusted in that. My carelessness with that file made it all crumble away.

  And if there was one thing I knew, I knew I wasn’t going to be a thorn in Jackson and Dante’s relationship any longer. I had already caused a rift, watched them fight over me, and I wasn’t going to cause another dispute.

  I was going to cut my losses and run while the night was still fairly young.

  I grab my cell, wiping my tears to clear my eyes before I unlock it and shakily start to type the only text I need to send:

  Jackson, I just wanted to say thank you for everything.

  You and Jodi became a family I never knew I needed.

  But it’s time I leave. I’m sure Dante will give you all

  the details. Count this as my resignation.

  I’ll be gone within in the hour.

  I press send and sink onto the edge of my bed. My hands come up to shield my face as if my tiny house would mock me for the onslaught of tears currently assaulting my cheeks. I sob harder as I cut away pieces of my life and prepare myself for a fresher, lonelier existence.

  As the realization settles upon me, I stand up and decide I need to pack and leave. I can’t delay the inevitable any longer. I go to my closet and, pulling the doors apart, I drag my suitcase out from the bottom and throw open the top flap. I carelessly throw clothes in, not caring to fold them. I don’t grab everything, leaving a majority. I want a clean break, and I regrettably leave the dress Dante bought me as well as some of the clothes I bought solely to wear to appease him. I grab a few pairs of shoes, throwing them in on top of the clothes. Rushing across the room, I tear open my drawers and grab panties and bras, pieces of jewelery, and any other items of clothing I think I may need.

  I steady myself, sobering in the moment as I look down at my haphazardly packed bag. Am I really doing this? Am I really becoming that girl who flees with a broken heart?

  The truth is an ice-cold realization that settles in my veins. I am totally that girl – totally that girl who fell in love, the one who fell so head over heels she’ll be forever dizzy. I’m the girl who fell in love with the bad guy, the one who was always off-limits. And I’m the girl now crying because her world just imploded.

  So yes, I am the girl who runs with the shattered pieces of her heart in her hands.

  I feel the ache resonate in my chest, pulsing from where my heart resides, and I realize that I wasn’t cut out for the game of love. My past warned of it, but my current predicament gave further warning that it just wasn’t for me. I told him I could learn to love him, but I hadn’t learned, I just fell. And with it, I forgot to take note of what comes with that – trust, honesty, and total commitment.

  I was a naïve girl who gave herself to a man so beautifully broken that she believed they could be the reason the other finally healed.

  What a fool I am.

  With that thought firmly in mind, I grab my cell phone once more and call for a cab. The operator tells me he’ll have a cab to me within thirty minutes, but with the weather, it means there may be a wait. As I end the call, I finally take notice of the forecast, and I laugh. I guess Mother Nature wanted to aid my current emotional hell.

  Zipping my suitcase up, I pull it up to stand beside me and take a quick glance around the room. I try to decide if I need anything else, but the only thing I know I need is the photo of my family. I grab the handle to my suitcase and start to drag it across the bedroom floor; I make a quick reach for my purse on the bed and head for the door. It’s time I leave, and once I have that photo, I know there will be no reason to stay.

  It’s as I grab the image that memories decide to make an appearance. They cast themse
lves at me in bright, vibrant pulses of birthdays and Christmases, of picnics and spontaneous meals out, but soon I see Dante’s face in front of me. I close my eyes, but the focus on each memory becomes sharper. I see the moment I followed him, and the first time he welcomed me to the dark side. I see when he tried and struggled to break me. I remember the rewards reaped from being in his life, but quickly the real darkness takes over and I watch our last encounter take over. Snapping my eyes open, I stuff the photo into my purse, throw it over my shoulder, and start for the door, preparing for a quick good-bye to this life.

  I throw my front door open and struggle to get my suitcase over the threshold. Through blurry vision, I persevere, tugging it through and onto the porch. I set it on the cusp of the stairs and pull my bag over my shoulder as I reach for the door. Slamming it shut, I say good-bye to this chapter in my life.

  “You think leaving would make this easier?” Dante’s voice pierces the evening air and I drop everything as I jolt up to find him standing before me. Through the pouring rain, I see him clearly. “That I’d just let you forget what it is I make you feel?” he calls out, his voices traveling over the sound of the rain. “You think I’d let you just leave so easily, little wolf?”

  “You didn’t want me anymore,” I tell him, hardening my voice regardless of my tears. “So leaving is the only option I have.” I try to steel myself, but for once, I fear Dante, having been on the receiving end of his true, threatening behavior. “Plus, I am not going to live the rest of my life fearing you because you have one last thing to settle up with me. I won’t let you have that power over me, you asshole! I’m not going to be the girl who looks over her shoulder every single day of her life for the rest of her life!”