Free Divided (Unguarded #2) by Ivy Stone Page A

walking into.
    Thunder cracks above me like a warning sign.
    Go home.
    Turn back now. While you still can.
    I push my car keys into my back pocket and pull up the hood on my jacket, hiding my face along with my nerves. Unease winds through me, pulling me so tightly I all but jump out of my skin when a drunken homeless man trips, wandering out of the alley behind me. My heart thrashes in my chest. I shake it off, but the feeling of impending doom doesn’t leave me. I could be walking into my own demise, not that it’d matter because apparently my heart doesn’t care much for my own wellbeing when it comes to Ali. Why? I haven’t a fucking clue. Maybe it’s the longing for retribution. Craving for blood to be shed, just as my mother’s was. An eye for an eye. Maybe my mind’s using this girl as another reason to go after them. To walk up to Giuseppi Marino’s door tonight, kill him with my bare hands and then sleep soundly with not a drop of regret. Either way, my pulse’s racing, fingers itching. I’m bound to find out soon enough.
    I shove my hands in my pockets. Walk with my head tucked low, and make it to Ali without being noticed. When I realized those few nights ago it was her in my bed beneath me, my breath caught in my throat and time stopped. Memories of the scared girl I met four years ago flashed before my eyes. But looking at her now, after having her in my arms—it was clear she’d changed. Grown. She wasn’t a girl anymore. She had perfect perky tits with rose-tipped nipples that hardened under my touch. She had long legs that carried on for days and a look in her features, aging her by years. She’d seen a lot, been through even more. It wore on her face, within the lines around her eyes. Gone was the innocence and naiveté of youth.
    Ali’s pale skin flashes as lightning illuminates the night sky with angry strikes. I suck in a harsh breath at the red and purple hues covering her face. My hands move without thinking. I cup the sides of her head and turn her, inspecting the damage. She hisses, her features contorting with pain. Gritting my teeth, I try to keep my anger in check. I want to kill them all. For me. For Ali. For every life, they’ve brought irreparable damage to. I check over her eyebrow that’s crusted with dried blood from a small cut before grazing a thumb over the bruise and swelling around her right eye.
    “Look at you,” I whisper, pulling a loose strand of her hair out of her face.
    My tone drops low, determined. “I want to kill him for doing this to you.”
    She doesn’t speak. Just gleams at me. Her lips parted, eyes in a daze. The weight of what I’ve just done pressurizes in my chest. In a matter of seconds. A few words and a touch I’ve done everything I shouldn’t have. What I’ve been telling myself these past few days to avoid because it’s what she wants but shouldn’t have.
    She’s nineteen.
    She’s an adult.
    She wants you. But she isn’t yours.
    You can’t tell her what to do and sure as fuck shouldn’t touch her.
    It takes all the resistance I have to pull my hands away from her and drop them to my sides. She grimaces as I move and I cringe, hating that I’ve hurt her. Regardless of the fact, this is only the fourth time I’ve ever been this close to her. Skin on skin. Breathing over the top of one another. It seems in all the time that passes, the odd connection we share—whatever the hell it is—doesn’t dissipate. Not in the slightest. I don’t understand it. Don’t know what it is. All I know is if she hurts, I hurt. She bleeds, my heart bleeds for her. I want to protect her, even if she won’t protect herself. I’ve lost time thinking about her. A complete stranger. A stranger who I feel compelled to, for a reason I can’t even understand, because even now I still don’t know much about her. Not the stuff I can’t find in her file. I’m losing control when I’m around her. I’ve never felt more vulnerable. I want more and loathe