The Obsession and the Fury by Nancy Barone Wythe Read Free Book Online Page B

gasped. She was bound, hands and feet, trembling like an animal awaiting slaughter. His eyes burned as they swept over her and anger rose from his entrails as he gagged in anger.
    He grabbed his knife and cut through the ropes, noticing how her creamy skin had turned purple, and his blood boiled. Her dress was torn to shreds and he scooped her up into his arms and into the sunlight.
    “Don’t, don’t look at me,” she whimpered. Her left eye and jaw were swollen and bruised, and there were other ugly marks on her body that made him grind his teeth in fury.
    “Fermo!” came the imperious voice, and Rea gasped.
    Alex turned to see a tall, muscle-bound man. His skin was the color of burnt copper and his face would have been almost handsome had it not been that it not been a map of scars. But it was the eyes that made Alex stop. They were burning torches bathed in spirits, fierce and malevolent, and the way they roamed over Rea’s body made the hairs on Alex’ nape stand to attention.
    “So this is the American,” he jeered. “Little wife, the moment I turn my back you find another bed mate.”
    “Go back to your sheep, you take better care of them from what I’ve heard,” Alex replied, standing taller.
    Put her down,” the shepherd commanded in Sicilian.
    Alex snorted and turned to walk away, when a fire shot in the air.
    “She is my wife. You will leave her to me. Put her down or I will shoot you.”
    “You abandoned her years ago. You left her in total poverty. And now you’ve hurt her. You’ve lost the right to even look at her,” Alex hissed, feeling his own eyes burning.
    The answer was a shot through his flesh. Alex staggered and fell, the dust creating small puffs around his face. He coughed. It hurt. It hurt so much. The blood started to seep through his shirt, spreading to his chest. Then his eyes followed on the man’s feet as he reached for Rea.
    Alex clutched at a juniper bush and hauled himself up as his sight began to give, and he heard his own strangled voice as he tried to call her name.
    He could barely stand, but he managed to throw a rock at Calogero’s back. The man stopped on the threshold and turned, so amused he retraced his steps.
    “I knew you were a brave soldier. But I didn’t know you were stupid.”
    Alex’s hand shot out and slammed another rock into the Sicilians face. Calogero let out a muffled cry of agony and collapsed. Alex dragged him around behind the cabin and went to retrieve Rea who was ready to fall apart.
    “Sweetheart,” he whispered, afraid to caress her swollen face.
    “I’m so tired,” she whispered and her eyes fell shut. He caught her up in his arms and made his way down the steep hill and into the town. “Sleep, Sweetheart. When you wake up you’ll be in your bed.”
    As Alex reached the piazza, his once white shirt now entirely seeped in his blood, the villagers congregated around him, as acolytes around their saint. Giuseppe stepped up to him, his eyes grave, his voice low,
    “You can hardly stand, Give her to me, Alex.”
    “No!” was the curt response. Nobody was touching her, not anymore!
    He could barely make out the front of his palazzo. Only a few more feet and she would be safe. He registered the faces around him as a spinning blur. As sympathetic as they looked, he knew that none of these men would stand up to Calogero, none of them would risk their lives for her. For anyone else, yes, but for Rea, nobody’s wife, it wasn’t worth it. Because they wouldn’t have to answer to anyone if Rea died. As she had appeared from nowhere, she could quietly leave and never return. She was just the town whore. To Alex she meant the world.
    A few steps separated them from the front door now. Rea was unconscious in his arms, her face a mask of blood. Her hair, caked with blood, no longer fanned about her once beautiful face, but stuck in clumps, falling rigidly down her shoulders.
    On the first step of his home, Alex stumbled and Giuseppe caught