Page 144
Chapter 144 of "Possessive Sinner" opens with: "Fuck me," Damiano grunts.Mauro is falling back, and knowing him, he'll circle around trying to... See what unfolds next!
"Fuck me," Damiano grunts.
Mauro is falling back, and knowing him, he'll circle around trying to get her from behind.
"Stop right there!" she warns in an unshaken voice. "I'm not the one you want."
"Everybody's the one I want," Damiano says with a grin, still advancing.
She flicks a lighter. The flame catches. The liquid sloshes dangerously close to her hand, and so does the little strip of fabric.
"You take another step," she warns, eyes locked on him, "and I burn your pretty mug."
There is no doubt in my mind that she'll do it, without hesitation, not caring one bit if she goes down with it. Damiano doesn't stop.
"Damiano," I warn.
"Careful, bella," he coos lightly. "You're gonna hurt yourself."
Wrong move. Fucking psychotic asshole. I'm not even sure if I'm referring to her or him.
She throws it, not at Damiano, but at the ground between us, the only way to stop both of us. Glass shatters. Flames erupt instantly, and a wall of fire cuts across the lot. Heat blasts outward. Smoke rises fast.
"Fuck—" Damiano steps back, laughing now. "I like her!"
I don't. Because while he's entertained, she's already moving. Gone. Running in the opposite direction. Not toward the kid. Away. Drawing us off him.
I stare through the flames for half a second longer than I should. Then I exhale slowly. "She split us."
Damiano's grin widens. "Yeah. She did."
Damiano cracks his knuckles. "Dibs on the girl."
I roll my eyes. "Mauro got the kid. Let's go."
And just like that, the hunt begins.
The house feels strange.Different. As if it knows Pete is dead.
Pete!
Just thinking his name sends a new wave of anger rushing through me. I barely slept last night. Between the anger and his betrayal, my mind was a churning mess.
I couldn't go back to Gabe after what Maggie told me. I just couldn't. I knew I needed time to digest her revelation. Memories flicker. Not clear at first. Just fragments. Conversations that didn't make sense then. Pete brushing things off. Smiling. Changing the subject whenever kids came up with family. Then clearer. About five years ago, right after we got married, we were sitting on the couch, takeout containers between us, some stupid show playing in the background.
"I want a big family," I said, half laughing, half serious. "Like… loud. Chaotic. Kids everywhere."
Pete went very still. I remember that now. The way his hand tightened around mine.
"I just want you," he said. "Just you. Forever."
I laughed it off. Thought it was sweet. Romantic, even. Another memory surfaces. A weekend. He came home from work early on a Friday, pale, tight-lipped.
"Not feeling great," he muttered before he went to bed.
He spent the entire weekend there. Said it was the flu. But it wasn't. I remember now. The way he winced every time he went to the bathroom. The low, strangled groans he tried to hide. The way he snapped at me when I asked if he needed a doctor. I thought he was just being a baby, the way men are when they have the sniffles. Now I want to slap myself. How wrong I was. How trusting. How stupid. My stomach drops. No! My mind tries to reject it. Push it away. But it fits. Too well.
All the times I cried because I got my period again.
"It's okay, Audra, don't worry."