IT’S AT LUNCH one sunny, hot afternoon when Mateo announces at the table, “Constantine Carbone is dead.”
I choke on the bite of sandwich that’s in my mouth and quickly take a swig of water to wash it down past the lump forming in my throat. “What?” I ask him incredulously.
“I took care of your problem. No more nightmares. No more panic attacks,” he says with a nod, like everything is finalized.
The past several nights I have been waking up in a cold sweat, the memories of the club and being taken to The Island fresh on my mind. I stare at him in disbelief. He has to be lying right now. My father and the government couldn’t get to Constantine, and they spent years trying everything. “How do I know you’re not just telling me this?” I question with a quirked brow.
Mateo pulls out his cell phone, taps a few keys and says, “See for yourself.”
I slowly stand up and round the table. I stand next to Mateo and stare down at the screen, at the Google search he’s pulled up. I instantly see Constantine’s name plastered all over the top pinned news stories. My eyes skim over the headlines and snippets of each article as Mateo scrolls through them.
Constantine was murdered in jail. Shanked by a fellow inmate. Pronounced dead a few hours after the attack.
I take a step back in shock. Then, my eyes search his dark orbs. “You had him killed. Why?” I ask in a whisper.
“Because he hurt you,” is his response.
Those four words speak volumes about Mateo’s feelings for me. He cares for me in some way. Even though I doubt he would ever admit it, I know it to be true.
Staring down at his phone, a thought occurs to me. “Did you happen to see any articles about Selina McCall?” I ask, desperately needing to know.
“She was rescued that night. She’s safe at home,” he tells me.
My heart skips a beat inside my chest. Selina is safe. And suddenly, I feel like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I had been so worried that she was back in Constantine’s clutches. Just knowing that she’s home with my brother and my family makes me feel a million times better. I exhale an uneven breath and tell him, “Thank you.”
Mateo nods as if it’s nothing, as if he didn’t change my life or, hell, the entire world. Constantine was a menace, buying and selling women and children, raping and pilfering his way through this earth, and now his reign is over. Just because Mateo willed it so. He did what always proved impossible before.
I return to my chair on autopilot. Mateo has no idea how much good he has done for so many people. My immediate thought goes to Selina. I wonder if she knows her tormentor of an entire decade is finally dead? I close my eyes, imagining her face when she hears the news. She would be so happy and relieved. No longer having to live in fear of her real-life boogeyman.
Tears spill down over my cheeks, and I don’t even bother to sweep them away. I’m crying for the joy that Selina must be feeling or will be feeling. She can go on and live a normal life now, not constantly looking over her shoulder. And so many women and children won’t have to deal with Constantine’s wrath in the future. So many lives saved. So many virtues that will remain unbroken.
I startle when I feel Mateo’s touch. He hooks a finger under my chin and brings my gaze up to meet his. “Are those sad or happy tears?” he asks, his dark eyes assessing me.
“Happy. Very happy,” I confess.
He growls lowly in his throat before his thumb sweeps over a rivulet of tears running down my cheeks. And then I watch in awe as he brings his thumb to his mouth to taste them. “You’re so pretty when you cry,” he says, his voice deep and guttural.
We stare at each other, both of us barely breathing as this strange magnetic connection keeps us tethered to one another. I can’t explain it, but if Mateo kissed me right now, I wouldn’t pull away.
However, he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he walks out of the room, leaving me confused and desperate for his affection.
