Chapter 61
BELLA
The Obsidian
The days after the Donor Fight were a damn whirlwind. Biggest event in Northvale history, and Rez is still riding the high. He’s practically been begging me to keep supplying him with more of my fighters. Doesn’t care how I get them, he just wants them. Bad.
Khoza and Briggs both came up to me after asking to earn their Black Books back by working in The Pit.
I told them I’d think about it. O’Malley caught wind of it and now he wants in too.
I guess brawling for blood is easier than chasing intel.
Still, if they want redemption, they’re going to have to work hard for it.
Daniel and Irina were at the fight too. Apparently, Irina wasn’t too thrilled that Roman showed up. She texted me the next day, trying to be all sweet and motherly. Said something about how, when I become a Barinov, my allegiance better lie with the Russians and not the Italians.
Bitch, I’m not even engaged. I’ve barely unpacked my shit. Chill. Plus, my allegiance will not be to the Russians or the Italians. It’ll be to Lex. To Cade. To me. Our family. Plus, the ice bitch didn’t even mention Cade in her little allegiance threat and that pissed me the fuck off.
Lex saw the text thread and absolutely lost it. He went off on his mom, told her to back the hell off. Then Daniel called and apologized on her behalf. The whole thing was a mess. She’ll pay for that tonight. Ellie and I made sure of it.
Speaking of Lex… The Donor Fight turned that man into a straight-up savage. We got back to our apartment and he absolutely wrecked me on the kitchen counter. Didn’t even take his boots off. Just ripped my shorts off, yanked my panties down, and growled, “Mine.”
Then he threw me on the bed and ravaged me all over again while Cade watched. Grabbed my throat so hard I nearly blacked out.
He finally dragged Cade into it. Told him to “get on your knees and taste what belongs to us.” And Cade did.
Good lord he did.
Cade went down on me like he was starving. But of course, Lex has zero patience, so he fucked Cade senseless while Cade’s mouth was still on my clit, unraveling me molecule by molecule. I swear Cade’s tongue anywhere near my pussy should be fucking illegal.
And then, Lex fucked me. Again. Hand fisted in my hair, whispering the filthiest things I’ve ever heard. Let’s just say, when one of your boyfriends has the sexual stamina of a Roman god and a high pain tolerance, everyone walks away a little bruised and blissed-out.
By the time it was over, I could barely walk. Pretty sure I limped into practice with a bruised vagina and zero regrets.
And yeah… I’m officially out of Rosethorne. Moved into the apartment on the thirty-first floor with the guys. Between Lex, Cade, Knox, Nate, and Tex, they had me packed and relocated in under twenty-four hours. Like a damn tactical unit. A dangerous, lethal, extremely attractive moving squad.
Home Sweet Home. I’m sure, our resident stalker-poet will have a very unhinged opinion about that any minute now.
And thanks to our stalker-poet and his lovely increasing threats, we’ve got NYPD stationed nearby and some of Daniel Barinov’s men doing incognito surveillance from time to time. Guys in plain clothes who look like they belong but don’t say much. Just in case.
Still, part of me keeps brushing it off. “He’s probably just some basement-dwelling freak who gets off watching girls from behind a screen,” I told Cade last night. “If we ignore him long enough, he’ll get bored and crawl back into whatever Reddit-thread-from-hell he came out of.”
Of course, Lex didn’t love that plan. Mostly because he keeps writing back. I wish I were kidding. It’s like a damn rhyme-off at this point. Every time Luca drops a new horror poem into my DMs, Lex responds with threats that sound like they belong in a Bratva edition of Dr. Seuss.
The other night he actually paused mid-mission to ask me, “What rhymes with decapitate?” I told him medicate, and now I’m scared it’s going to end up in a courtroom transcript.
“Stop baiting him,” Cade told him. “He wants a reaction. He wants power. If you keep giving it to him, babe, he’s never going to go away.”
Lex just shrugged. “He wants a stage. I’m giving him a grave.” God help me, I think he meant it as romantic.
So, yeah. We’re fine. Everything’s fine. Totally normal relationship stuff. Just a girl, her two guys, and the anonymous psycho-poet watching them from the shadows.
???
“Ah! I can’t believe this party is finally happening!” Ellie squeals.
“Yeah, thanks again for helping me switch the theme last minute,” I say, tugging the strap of my heel tighter.
She waves me off with one manicured hand. “Please. Anything to take down the Ice Bitch Witch of Moscow. She’s going to choke on her judgment tonight.”
Haley’s in the corner, sharpening a gold hairpin like she plans to actually stab someone with it and honestly, I hope she does.
I’m in front of the mirror, one leg propped on the velvet bench, lacing gold heels around my thigh like I’m getting ready for war. Because I am. Tonight isn’t just a party. It’s karma.
“Move your asses, goddesses!” Rico declares, bursting through the door like he’s got Jupiter on speed dial. “This isn’t Mount Olympus, bebés. This is Capitoline Hill, and we are not losing the war for best dressed, ?entendido?”
He’s wearing an emerald blazer over black mesh, six necklaces, and the expression of a man who’s holding the world together with willpower and setting spray.
“Final rundown. Ellie, you are Venus. Glow like a whore in candlelight and make every man here want to cry into his wine. You’ve got the blush satin with the chainmail hips and the sheer train that flutters like sin. Got it?”
“Already crying, darling,” Ellie says while applying mascara. “I look like sex and regret.”
“Good. Haley, you’re Diana, huntress of my dreams and destroyer of frat boys. Looking beautiful in emerald silk with the twin leg slits and the fake bow that could still take out a man’s ego from twenty feet away.”
“Perfect. I love shredding men’s egos,” Haley grins, adjusting the strap of her dress.
“Let’s see,” Rico says, ticking off fingers like a general reviewing his troops. “Callum and The Order will be stationed at the bottom of the stairs as your Roman guards. Lex is Mars, God of war.”
“Obviously,” Ellie laughs, tossing her curls.
“And Cade… Apollo. God of the sun, art, music, and swoon-worthy jawlines. I already checked in on your boys and baby girl, damn. If they had a thing for Barcelonans, you’d be in some serious trouble.”
He fans himself dramatically, then winks. “Luckily for you, they’re fully booked and aggressively loyal.”
Rico’s voice softens. “And you, my beautiful little rage monster, are Nemesis. Vengeance. Balance. Divine retribution in thigh-high stilettos.”
He walks toward me slowly, almost reverently, and adjusts the gold chain belt hanging low across my hips. His fingers are gentle, surprisingly so. “Black and crimson. Gold blade charms. Cape that flows when you turn. You look like a weapon. Because you are, darling.”
I arch a brow. “You gonna cry, Rico?”
“Bitch, I might.” He flicks my hip. “You look like justice.”
“She looks like she’s about to eat Lex alive,” Ellie calls from across the room.
“She always does,” Haley mutters, not even looking up.
Rico claps like he’s summoning a storm. “Alright, divas—?ojos aquí!” he calls, snapping his fingers.
“Haley enters first, then Ellie. Bella, you come down last, obviously, like the goddess you are. Roman will escort you. Knox has the spotlight cues locked and loaded. And when you hit that floor?” He grins, wicked and proud.
“The room will stop breathing. So do us all a favor and don’t eat shit in heels. ”
Rico takes a swig from his flute and struts toward the door. “Ten minutes, goddesses. This world isn’t ready.” He slams it behind him.
For a second, it’s quiet. Just the low hum of music from the club floor below, muffled by velvet and walls. Ellie hums something under her breath. Haley exhales and starts curling her lashes.
And then the door opens again, softly as Roman steps inside. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t need to. His presence fills the room like smoke.
He’s dressed in black and gold, a custom-tailored suit with a single drape over one shoulder that glints like woven sunlight. A golden cuff wraps around his left wrist. A laurel crown rests lightly in his dark hair. He looks like power made flesh.
He’s Jupiter tonight. The King of the Roman gods. Rico’s idea, although it totally fits him.
“You look just like your mother,” he says quietly. “Absolutely stunning.”
I swallow once. “You clean up nice.”
There’s a beat of silence. Not awkward, not really. Not anymore.
I glance at him. “Thanks for the venue. And Fight Night. And for saving my life. And for not, you know… pushing this whole father-daughter thing.” I hesitate. “You’ve been cool about it and I know that can’t be easy for you.”
“Isabella, I don’t want to be another man trying to claim you. You’ve had enough of those.”
He tilts his head slightly, something flickering behind his eyes. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Until then, I’ll settle for standing beside you and reminding the world whose blood made you.”
He takes a deep breath and almost smiles. “I used to dream of this, you know. Walking you down those stairs. Letting the world see who you are.”
I hold his gaze. Steel to steel. “And who am I?”
He walks forward, slow and regal, until he’s standing right in front of me. Then he leans down just enough to whisper, “A goddamn reckoning, my daughter.”