Chapter 108
Katya pov
Nonna finally lowered her hand from her face and looked over at Antonio with the most exhausted grandmother expression I had ever seen.
"I preferred him in a coma," she announced flatly. Surprisingly Mr Antonio nodded instantly. "Sa."
Roo scoffed. Loudly. "Then you should’ve taken your chance and killed right there. Saved everyone the trouble of waking up at all."
The air in the room vanished for as I turned to stone.
Because that sentence,
that sentence hit like a blade slipped between my ribs.
You should’ve killed then.
My lungs locked because I had thought that.
I had tried that.
I had stood over him, hands ready, imagining how the world would be better if he never opened his eyes again.
My fingers curled against my skirt, nails digging into my palms. My heart hamred so violently I swore it would shake the room.
Did he know?
Had he sohow known?
Was that why he looked at like that earlier?
Like he recognized sothing in ?
My mouth went dry.
Nonna smacked her hand against his stretced legs. "Dio mio, Roo! How can you say such things?"
Roo rolled his eyes like he was the victim here Like he was tired of being alive.
"I’m saying you complain too damn much for soone who begged the universe to keep breathing."
"Be grateful I begged anything, ragazzo sciocco!" Nonna snapped.
Roo scoffed again. Antonio muttered sothing about needing a drink.
And ?
I silently shrank farther back, pressing so close to the wall I almost lted through it. My spine stiffened, my throat tight, my stomach sinking all the way to the floor.
If he ever found out...
If he ever realized...
He’d kill .
No hesitation.
He wouldn’t even blink.
I stared at the back of his head, fear choking . This...
This was the man Nonna thought would not harm ?
This was the man she promised was only "difficult"?
I watched Roo glare at his own grandmother, snap at Antonio, tuck a gun under his pillow like it was a stuffed toy.
Nonna sighed, for the hundredth ti — not annoyed, not offended... just weary. The kind of weary that ca from loving soone who made it very, very hard.
Her gaze drifted toward Antonio’s arm, which was wrapped in a sling.
"Antonio," she said softly, "What are you still doing here? You just had to take Roo to his room. Your hand is still injured.You should be resting."
Mr. Antonio blinked, as if he’d forgotten he had a body at all. "Nonna, I’m fine."
"You are not fine," she countered calmly. "And so is Roo, who is practically immobile."
Roo scoff from his corner but nonna paid him no ti as she continued. "And the doctor said he needs assistance till he fully recovered" Her tone stayed gentle, matter-of-fact.
"Normally, you are mostly his hands and legs in this situation but you too are hurt. So tell —" she lifted a brow, "—who exactly is supposed to help him?"I saw her eyes slide sideways.
Straight toward .
My stomach dropped so fast I swore it hit the floor before my feet did.
No. No no no.
She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
Because I understood that look. That... The look of soone who had just found the perfect solution at the worst possible ti.
"Nonna..." I whispered, panic threading my voice before she even spoke.
She smiled kindly — so kindly it made my fear worse. "Bambina," she said, as if announcing sothing obvious. Every eyes turned to .
Roo’s eyes sharpened "No," he simply said.
One word. Flat. Final.
And that’s exactly what I wanted him to say but it seems the old woman doesn’t want that too because she kept going.
"You cannot even walk properly yet," Nonna replied in that sa calm, reasonable tone, as though she were discussing weather.
"And Antonio cannot be expected to injure himself further."
"I said no," Roo repeated, sharper this ti, more dangerous but Nonna didn’t flinch. "You need assistance."
"I don’t want hers."
"I didn’t ask what you want," she said gently.
My pulse pounded in my ears. My fingers went numb around the hem of my shirt. Roo’s stare pinned like a knife through paper — silent, unforgiving.
His jaw flexed once, twice before it relaxed and I saw sothing between a smirk or an annoyed expression.
Nonna turned her head back fully toward , voice softening. "You are capable, mia cara," she assured. "I trust you."
Trust ? To help him? i would rather jump off a cliff than help tht demon.
Roo’s stare didn’t move from my face. It felt like being pressed under a boot — even though he couldn’t stand, even though he could barely shift without pain.
His eyes alone were enough to crush oxygen out of my chest.
"Oh, don’t look at her like that," Nonna scolded lightly. "She will help you only with the basics. Until you can manage on your own."
Mr Antonio looked between us, clearly exhausted but his growing dislike for is clear. "Nonna, i can do so things—"
"With one hand? And with him in this state? No. Absolutely not." Nonna cuts him off. I swallowed, inching my weight toward the door. Maybe if I slowly—slowly—slid out now, no one would notice until I was already—
BANG!
I scread—at least, I think I did. I couldn’t even hear myself. My hands flew over my ears as I dropped into a crouch on instinct, heart slamming against my ribs hard enough to bruise.
The sharp sll of gunpowder filled the room. My vision flashed white at the edges.
Nonna gasped. Antonio cursed. My knees hit the floor.
I was so shaken by the sound of a gun bullet exploding just above my head. My frightened eyes moved towards the sound it was fired from and I wished I had so kind of spiritual powers or sothing because the culprit, Roo sat exactly where he had been, calm and unbothered with the gun he’d hidden under his pillow now dangling lazily from his fingers, thin smoke curling from the barrel.
He tilted his head at , expression unreadable.
"Well," he murmured, "I had to see if my lovely new assistant can handle a gunshot without fainting."
My breath stuttered out of in a sharp choke.
Lovely... assistant?
Nonna’s eyes went wide. Wide with shock and fury but she was too stunned to even form a word.
Antonio looked like he aged ten years on the spot.
And Roo?
Roo just watched .
Cool. Quiet. Like he hadn’t just fired a weapon inches above my skull for a test. My fingers trembled against the floor. My pulse thrashed painfully in my throat.
He lifted the gun slightly, inspecting the barrel as if checking the craftsmanship. "Not bad," he said. "You didn’t pass out."
His cold eyes flicked to again.
"Yet."
††
Thoughts?
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