"I'm sorry," I said sincerely, "I didn't mean to Vito," I added, my voice shaking, my heart in my throat like a guilty child caught with bloodied hands.
He breathe and tried to steady gums. "Leave," he said softly, like he was trying to hold something bigger than rage down in his chest, like it was boiling and breaking his bones from the inside.
But I walked to him, stupidly maybe, stubborn definitely, and said, "I didn't mean to, please, it was a mis…" I couldn't even finish my sentence when he snapped like a switch had flipped and all the heat in his veins turned to fire.
"I said f*****g leave this room this minute, b***h!" he yelled, punching the wall beside him so hard I jumped like I'd been shot. His knuckles split, blood smeared the wall like a warning sign, and I shook…I've never
