Chapter 21: The Weight of Silence
Vincenzo stood in front of the sink, washing his hands with careful precision. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if each drop of water that slid off his fingers could wash away the weight of what had just happened. But no amount of water could cleanse him of the betrayal he had just witnessed, the bloodshed that would leave a scar on him for a long time.
He took a deep breath and wiped his hands with a towel, his eyes lingering on the reflection in the mirror. The anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but he had to keep his composure. He had to be strong, not just for the organization, but for Vanessa too.
She needed him.
When he opened the door and stepped into the room, the familiar scent of blood hit him like a punch to the gut. The smell clung to him, the metallic tang of it hanging in the air, and for a moment, Vincenzo thought he could still hear Rowan's screams echoing in his ears.
He winced as he noticed Vanessa sitting by the window, her posture tense as she rubbed her stomach, her eyes distant, as if lost in thought. But the moment he stepped into the room, her gaze snapped to him, and he could see the slight shift in her expression, the subtle change in her demeanor. She tried to smile, but it was weak, strained, as if she was forcing it.
"Venessa," Vincenzo called softly, his voice a low murmur, filled with concern. He could see that something was wrong, something that wasn't just the sickness she had been feeling earlier. "What's the problem?"
Vanessa's brow furrowed slightly, her eyes flicking toward him with a touch of confusion. She opened her mouth to say something, but it wasn't words that escaped. Instead, she crinkled her nose, her face scrunching up in discomfort.
"You smell of blood," she finally whispered, her voice strained as she stood slowly from the window. Her hands instinctively reached for her stomach, as if protecting the life growing inside her. She felt nauseous, the sharp scent of blood overwhelming her senses.
Vincenzo froze, his hand halfway to the door. He had been so caught up in his rage, in the need to deal with the betrayal that he hadn't even thought about how it might affect her. Her heightened sensitivity, the way her body reacted now to everything around her, especially with the pregnancy, hadn't crossed his mind.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice laced with regret. His eyes softened as he stepped closer to her, careful not to move too fast, not wanting to upset her more. "I didn't mean for it to affect you."
Vanessa swallowed, trying to shake off the nausea that had settled in her stomach. She glanced at him, the faintest hint of concern in her eyes. "It's not your fault," she whispered, though the words felt hollow to her, as if they didn't truly make sense. The truth was, she could barely handle the waves of sickness crashing over her, the dizzying feelings of vulnerability and the growing pressure of everything she didn't fully understand.
Vincenzo could see the strain on her face, the way her body seemed to tremble slightly. She looked fragile, and the realization hit him like a wave—he couldn't allow anything to harm her, not now, not ever. Not when she was carrying his child.
He closed the distance between them, gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her skin. "You're okay," he said softly, his voice steady, reassuring. "I'll make sure nothing happens to you. You and the baby are my priority."
Venessa closed her eyes at the warmth of his touch, the comfort his words brought. For a moment, she allowed herself to lean into him, feeling his steady presence, the unspoken promise that he would protect them both. She hadn't realized how much she needed that reassurance, how much she needed him in this uncertain time.
The silence that fell between them was heavy, but it was comforting. Vincenzo didn't push her to speak; he simply stayed close, his hands warm against her cold skin, grounding her.
As Vanessa opened her eyes and met his gaze again, a small, tired smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "I'll be alright," she said softly, though she still felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her.
"I know you will," Vincenzo replied, his voice thick with emotion. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes, the way she was trying to hold herself together despite everything. And as he stood there, holding her, he realized that he would do anything to protect her, to make sure she was safe.
No matter what it took.