Rage coursed through my veins. Of course Marco had hunted me down. My best friend would never have allowed me to escape from my family. Even though he knew I hated it, I also knew that it’d been selfish for me to leave him behind in that hell.
Secretly, he resented our mafia lifestyle as much as I did, although he’d never admit it aloud. I’d known him long enough to recognize that his cold exterior was a barrier between him and his more volatile emotions. His hard edges concealed a deeply buried pain that he would never express openly, maybe not even to himself.
I couldn’t bring myself to hate him, but I could rage at him for ruining my escape.
“Why did you come after me?” I demanded when we stepped outside the ring of illumination provided by the streetlight. “You know I want out. Why would you do this to me?” The last came out more strained than I’d intended.
I didn’t want to abandon the simpler life I’d found in Cambridge. I didn’t want to abandon Ashlyn and the powerful connection I shared with her. My affection for her bordered on obsession, and there was so much more I wanted to learn about her.
“You know I couldn’t let you go,” Marco rumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a war brewing in our family. Tensions are running high. Dominic Russo’s son can’t just disappear. You know your father will take over as soon as the don passes, which could be any day now. It looks suspicious that you ghosted. Like maybe you didn’t leave of your own accord, if you know what I mean. You could’ve been fucking dead, Joseph.” His voice roughened. His hard demeanor threatened to crack, revealing just how much he’d worried about me.
“Then you called me,” he continued. “I got the area code off the call and was able to narrow my search. At least I knew you were alive. Do you know what—” He cut himself off, shaking his head sharply. “You have to come back with me. It’s going to get bloody if you don’t. Do you want your father to be murdered in a power struggle?”
My stomach sank. I hadn’t fully thought through the potential ramifications of my disappearance. As much as I hated that life—the violent world I’d been born into—I didn’t want to see my father dead.
“No,” I said quietly. “Of course not. But I can’t go back with you. I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he said harshly. “You just don’t want to. But you have responsibilities, Joseph. Even if you don’t want them, that doesn’t mean you don’t carry them.”
He regarded me for a moment, his head canting to the side as he studied me with his piercing black gaze. “You don’t want to leave her,” he concluded, seeing straight through me. “You know you can’t stay near her,” he said more gently. “If I can find you, anyone can. It’s just a matter of time. Do you really want your father’s enemies to get their hands on her?”
My fists curled at my sides, my rage surging once again. “No,” I growled, an absolute denial of the idea of Ashlyn in pain, used as a weapon against me.
“Come home with me,” he urged. “You don’t have a choice. Not if you want to protect her. Not if you want to protect your father. And me,” he added, as though that was of little consequence.
I wouldn’t risk Marco. The man who was like a brother to me couldn’t be hurt because of my selfish choices. I’d die before I let that happen.
My shoulders slumped as defeat rolled over me. All my foolish dreams of having a normal life with my perfect angel shattered. I was going to have to leave Ashlyn behind.