NICCOLÒ

24. Broken-hearted

Cee screamed, lashing out with her arms and legs as she scrambled away from the spreading pool of blood, the body - her sister - she couldn't move. It was like her limbs were covered in thick, sticky tar, trapping her in honey - she couldn't get away and the blood was drowning her, filling her mouth, her eyes, her ears-

"Camilla." Her eyes snapped open, seeing nothing but blackness, still screaming.

Niccolò caught her wrist tightly, a cold look on his face.

"Oh," she breathed, her lungs heaving, the fear in her eyes dimming. Caterina had been right in front of her, melting through her fingers - bleeding - there was so much blood- "Nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He held on to her arm warily, his gaze piercing through her skull; he looked uncomfortable.

"No," Cee mumbled defensively, trying to pull her arm away, but he held on, frustration building up in his body, holding her too tightly.

"We need to talk," he demanded, not letting her escape - Cee felt tears rise to eyes - she was scared, tired and grieving; she wasn't ready to deal with him. He had found her body, found her baby sister.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "Can this wait?"

"No," he replied sharply, narrowing his eyes. "No, it can't wait." She hated the way he was looking at her; the anger didn't suit him. She preferred his calm glances over breakfast, the looks that meant he found her amusing - anything but the hatred in his eyes.

"Why are you so angry with me?" Cee asked, pulling at his hand, as if it would make a difference. "Just leave me alone-"

"You need to trust me," he snapped, ignoring her attempts to free herself, trying desperately to reign in his anger. "Make yourself trust me, I don't care - you have to trust me, or I can't protect you."

"I do trust you," she protested, giving up on trying to make him let go; as she spoke she realised it was true. She trusted Niccolò with her life, for better or for worse - it was against her better, logical judgement, but it was a gut instinct. He wouldn't hurt her again. "I trust you, Niccolò."

"Then talk to me," he snapped, slamming his hand against the wall behind her head - Cee flinched, her eyes wide - she wasn't scared he would hit her - he could hurt himself. "Ragazza stupida - talk to me and trust me. Don't you know what could have happened?"

Cee yanked her arm away, scrambling away from him - but he watched her go with cold, cold eyes. All at once, she realised this was his delayed reaction; after all the worrying about her sister, the only thing he cared about was the disrespect she'd shown.

"I'm sorry," she protested, pleading with him. "I thought my father was dying- I had to go."

Niccolò glared at her, his hands clenched into fists, his shoulders shaking with the effort of restraining himself. "Then you come to me," he snarled, "you tell me you found out - you trust me to make the right decision."

"You wouldn't have let me go!" Cee shouted back, almost instantly regretting it as she saw his expression turn murderous - but she kept running her mouth. "You didn't even tell me he was apparently dying!"

"Why, so you could run into Vincenzo's trap?" he shot back angrily. "So you could ruin the peace I want?"

"The peace you want?" Cee gave a shrill, mocking laugh. "My sister is dead because of your stupid peace, your stupid wars- it's your fault she's dead."

She broke off sharply, looking down, curling her knees against her chest and pressed a fist against her mouth, but that couldn't stop a broken sob slipping out.