She curled her fingers into the steel fencing. “Vaughn! Get up! Oh God. Please get up.”
As if he heard her, he hooked his legs over Giuseppe’s shoulders and bodily flipped him. With him on top now, she finally saw his face. One eye was swollen completely shut, and he was bleeding from multiple cuts. His knuckles were raw and sent blood flying when he trapped Giuseppe on the ground and pounded on him, punch after punch after punch. He looked feral, like an animal fighting to survive, attacking without any hint of civilized thought.
“Fuck,” Tommy said behind her, and she peeled her gaze from the sheer brutality in time to see him run for the door. Cristiano was still holding a gun on Cam, but when he saw Tommy run, he wavered. Without anyone to order him around, he was about as dangerous as a lost puppy.
Cam pounced, fast despite his injuries and just as brutal at his twin. He wrestled the gun away, and Cristiano raised his hands in surrender as sirens screamed somewhere nearby.
Cam shoved Cristiano to his knees. “Hands behind your head, asshole.” He finally glanced over at her. “Get in there and stop Vaughn before he kills the guy.”
Stop him? But… she wanted Giuseppe dead. How many times had she dreamed of that very thing? She’d savored the thought of Giuseppe Bellisario six feet under where he could no longer terrorize her. And now Cam wanted her to stop it from happening?
“Lark—” He stopped, shook his head. “Dahlia. Listen to me. Bellisario’s down. He’s not a threat anymore. If Vaughn kills him now, it won’t be self-defense. He’ll go to prison, and I won’t be able to stop it from happening.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and clambered up the steps into the cage. “Vaughn?” He didn’t seem to hear her, and she wasn’t sure how to approach him. The sheer intensity of his rage terrified her, brought back all the ugly memories of Marcel and the beatings. Would Vaughn attack her if she tried to pull him off? Would he hurt her?
No. Dammit, no. This was Vaughn. He wasn’t Marcel, and he’d never raise a hand to her. Ever. And she was ashamed the thought had even crossed her mind.
“Vaughn!” She threw herself on his back and cinched her arms around his waist, pulling as hard as she could. He didn’t budge.
“Vaughn,” she whispered against his ear. “Baby, you need to stop. You need to stop. I know you want to kill him for me, but you can’t. I don’t want you to. He’s not worth it. He’s not worth me losing you.”
The punches slowed, then stopped. Silence fell in the warehouse, broken only by his wheezing breaths. She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged him from behind until he shifted. He sat down hard on the concrete and she circled to crouch in front of him, ignoring the bloody mess that was Giuseppe’s face. The bastard was still alive—she could tell because he was breathing—and that was all that mattered.
She focused on Vaughn’s face, gently cupping his battered cheeks in her palms. He was shaking, and tears streamed from his good eye. He lifted one bloody hand to cover hers. “Dahlia.” His voice didn’t sound like his own.
“I’m here. Cam’s here. We’re both okay.”
“I want you…” His words slurred. “To be safe.”
“I am.” She choked on a swell of raw emotion. Nobody else in her life had ever wanted that for her. “I am safe. You made sure of it.”
“I’ll always make sure. Always…” His eyes rolled back, and she grabbed him before he hit the floor, lowering his head into her lap. He didn’t need any more one-on-one time with the concrete.
She stroked his damp hair back from his face and smiled a little. “I know you will, Vaughn.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Fucking paramedics. They wouldn’t leave him alone.
Vaughn snarled as one asshole named Dawson shined a flashlight in his eyes. “I’m fine.”
Dawson was unruffled and put the flashlight away. “Pretty good chance you have a concussion.”
“Not the first time.”
Dawson glanced over to where two of his colleagues were working on peeling Bellisario off the concrete. “Somehow I don’t doubt that.”
Vaughn followed his gaze and winced, because turning his head fucking hurt. “Will he live?”
“You messed him up, broke his jaw, but yeah. Barring any complications, he should live.” Dawson turned back and scanned his face. “He did a number on you, too. I’m going to take you in for an MRI.”
Back to that again. “I’m. Fine.”
“So you’ve said, but you’re still going. Hang tight while I get the rig ready for you.” Dawson gathered his supplies and left the cage.
“Stubborn bastard,” Vaughn muttered to the guy’s back.
“Yes, you are,” Marcus Deangelo said.
Vaughn turned toward his voice and winced when every muscle and joint in his body protested the move. “Where’d you come from?”
“My mother.”