He Took Bullets For Me I Took His Mistress

I stared at Andrews in disbelief.

He was the one who had walked into an enemy trap trying to seize new territory. I was the one who had charged into their stronghold alone to save him, only to be cornered and humiliated by his rivals. Afterward, he knelt before me, smashing the butt of his gun against his own head, sobbing as he swore an oath.

"Yolia!"

His face was a swollen, bloody mess, snot and tears streaking through the grime. His voice was choked with sobs.

"I, Andrews Moretti, swear on my life! If I ever wrong you, may I die a thousand deaths!"

"I, Andrews!"

"For all my days!"

"Will be Yolia's dog!"

His oath still rang in my ears. He had ordered a total blackout on the incident, forbidding anyone from ever speaking of what happened to me. He knew it was my deepest wound. We had never spoken of it again, but we had prayed together for the child we lost.

And now.

I looked at Andrews's face and let go of Scarlett. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, his tone softening.

"Bella, your temper—"

I sliced my knife across his brow and smiled.

"Andrews, death by a thousand cuts for those who betray a true heart. This is the first."

The dagger tore through flesh. Warm blood splattered my face. I watched the scar on his brow, once a badge of honor from the bullet he took for me, disappear under a ruin of blood and flesh. A mocking smile played on my lips. But Scarlett seized the moment, shoving me hard.

I stumbled back. When I looked up, Scarlett was glaring at me with pure hatred.

"What gives you the right to hurt him!"

The next second.

I strode toward her, raised my hand, and slapped her so hard her head snapped to the side. "If you have any real fight in you, stop being a caged canary."

"Either do something that earns my respect," I grabbed her hair and kicked the back of her knee, forcing her to the ground. "Make Andrews divorce me so you can become the next Mrs. Moretti."

"Or," I bent down, leaning in close, and smiled, "you can wait for me to get bored and break you."

Scarlett's eyes were red, her body trembling, but her gaze held a stubborn fire.

"If you have the guts, kill me!"

"If you don't kill me, I will never leave Andrews!" Scarlett's tears caught the light of the setting sun. "I will be with him for the rest of my life!"

I suddenly froze.

I remembered being sixteen. My father was ambushed, his body falling into the sea as my mother fought to the death to get me to shore. The sunset that day was the same blood-red. It was Andrews on the beach, who carved a bloody path for me, all fearless, youthful bravado.

That Andrews, with the scar on his brow like a medal and a vicious slash across his back, had crashed into my heart, screaming.

"Bella!"

"Run!"

I was terrified, but I dove headfirst into that sea of blood, and together, we fought our way to today.

I was shoved away by Andrews. The wound on his brow was still bleeding, the blood trickling down his eyelashes like a crimson tear, dripping onto my heart.

"Bella," Andrews winced, closing one eye in pain, "you've disappointed me more than I can say."

"I'm not divorcing you, but it's not because I still love you."

Andrews pulled Scarlett tightly into his arms.

"It's because," Andrews said, "I owe your father, Don Falcone, a blood debt. Our families are bound by it. Don't push me, Bella. You will regret it."

Scarlett broke down in his arms, sobbing. "Andrews! I don't want to live here! I don't!"

"I'm so scared!" Scarlett cried, grabbing his collar hysterically. "I don't want to live with this lunatic! She'll kill me, she'll kill me!"