25. Rafael
RAFAEL
I blink, and suddenly I’m awake, standing in a park I don’t remember walking into. Portia’s standing several feet away with fear carved onto her face, staring at me like she can’t believe her eyes.
The night is dark, the cool air clinging to my skin. My stomach churns like it’s been jerked in several different directions. The same can be said for my brain, which feels like it’s been rattled inside my skull.
I’m lost as to what the fuck is going on. How the hell did I end up at the park?
My breath heaves out of me as my gaze trends downward.
There, at my feet, lies the devil’s mask—crimson red with the black horns sticking out the top. My stomach lurches all over again. I stare at it as if it might blink back.
But it’s because I know, in the deepest, sickest part of myself, what it means.
It’s been him. All this time.
I feel the way I do because he’s been awake while I’ve been under.
How much time has passed since the last time I was conscious? How many days, or even weeks, have gone by?
It seems he’s been curating a whole new fucking life while I’ve been away. He’s replaced me.
My hand lifts to my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, processing what’s happened and where I am. Then I look back at her and suddenly need to close the space between us.
“Dolcezza,” I manage, my voice hoarse. “It’s me… I’m back.”
Portia recoils at first, uncertainty flickering across her face. It dawns on her that it’s really me as I close the gap between us, arms opened to pull her into an embrace. She comes willingly, finishing the last few feet off by stepping into my arms.
They close around her, the moment immediately setting itself right.
I bury my face in her hair and bask in everything that’s familiar about her, from her scent to how she feels against me. She’s dressed up in a sparkling silver gown, and we’re in the park at night, which means Il Diavolo took her out.
An instant current of jealousy beats through me at the thought. I tamp down on it… at least for now.
She pulls back enough to look up at me, her brows drawn. “Rafael, you need help.”
“Portia…”
“You can’t pretend this isn’t happening. You need to talk to someone— a real someone, like a professional. A doctor or specialist. Your psyche is fractured, and I think… I think it’s getting worse.”
I move to disentangle us, not out of rejection, but for some space. Portia refuses to separate, clinging to my arms like we’re meant to be tethered.
“Don’t ignore this,” she begs, her eyes large and imploring. “Please. I’m not asking you to do this alone. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll be there. But you have to do something, Rafael. You can’t stay like this.”
The tears come next, shining and showing my reflection up at me. Confirmation that I’ve done this to her. He’s done this.
We’ve pulled this woman in so many different directions, keeping her in the dark for so long, that she’s on the verge of tears as she pleads.
I lean in and kiss her, capturing her lips for the first time in who knows how long. But something tells me it’s been a while; it’s been so long that when our lips touch, it instantly feels like a homecoming.
It’s how things are supposed to be. I’ve avoided the truth for long enough—and that includes my attempts to protect Portia from not only her investigations and the other crime families, but most of all, from myself.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers, and I nod. “You’re right, dolcezza. I can’t avoid this. It would be letting him win.”
Portia’s eyes flick up to mine, wide and searching, full of so much emotion. Though she doesn’t say anything, I can tell there’s a lot on her mind.
Many things she wants to say even if she might not get the chance right now.
“It’s getting worse,” I explain. “I’ve tried to shield you from it—from him. From what I really am. I thought I could keep you on the outside. Keep him contained. But all I did was give him the opportunity to take you.”
“There’s so much to tell you. But first we have to get you help. Emergency, right now help.” Portia’s slender fingers reach for mine, seeking to pull me forward. “The limo should be passing by soon. Come on.”
But I don’t move.
I stay planted where I am, because… I can’t.
I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
My legs are locked in place, weighted like concrete. The lack of cooperation is coming from my brain.
Inside my head, suddenly there’s a second presence clawing its way to the surface. I can sense his reemergence as he tries to overtake me, hear the intrusive thoughts that fill my head against my own will.
But I refuse to give up control. I refuse to let him take over again.
“No!” I growl.
It’s already too late.
The switch is flipped, and it’s like I’m a passenger inside my own head and body. I’m no longer in control as I yank my hand from Portia’s, teeth bared and lungs spitting air.
“What do you think you’re doing!?” he snarls at her through my mouth. My lips that move. “Did you think you were going to pull one over on me? You and him —conspiring behind my back like I wouldn’t find out?”
Portia stumbles half a step back, true horror widening her eyes. She stares as if she can’t fathom how to respond, thrown by how quickly he’s come back.
He turns toward the fountain, where I’d ripped the mask off and tossed it to the ground, and snatches it up.
But it’s as he goes to put it back on his face that I’m taking over again.
“Yes, you fucking invader!” I yell at him. “That’s exactly what we were going to do! Stay away from her or?—”
But the rest doesn’t come, because his intrusive thoughts win out, answering me before I can even finish what I was going to say.
“Or what, you motherfucker?” Diavolo roars through me. “What are you going to do? You’ve had your time—it’s my time now!”
“Stop it!” Portia cries out. “Both of you… we need to get you help!”
But we’re too caught up in our battle for supremacy to listen to her pleas.
He grips the mask to put it back on, determined to resume business as usual as he hijacks not only my body but my life. My other hand lashes out, catching my wrist to stop him.
I’m in a literal fucking fight with myself, struggling to keep him from putting the mask back on.
I stagger sideways, almost running into the fountain. Portia screams out at us to stop or else she’s going to get help herself.
Il Diavolo’s loud inside my head. He’s insistent, refusing to give up this fight we’re locked into.
This war for dominance.
Il Diavolo edges me out, surging forward with the mask in hand. His grip is viselike as he shoves it back into place like a king reclaiming his crown. His laughter spills out of him, the sound cruel and triumphant, echoing across the park grounds.
“I am the dominant personality now!” he yells. “And there’s not a fucking thing you can do to stop me!”
He rounds on Portia and her wide, tear-glossed eyes, and a grin spreads across his face from behind the mask.
“Oh, dolcezza,” he purrs, taking a step forward. “Did you really think you were going to escape me?”
Portia moves back, putting more space between them. “You need help! Let Rafael back out. He was about to get help for the both of you.”
“That won’t be happening. There is no escaping,” he says dismissively. He gestures to my body like it’s his own and not stolen. “He’s weak. I’m stronger. I’m always stronger. And now that I’ve tasted what it feels like to wear him fully, I’m never giving him back.”
He starts toward her— my legs moving at his command, reaching for her like he doesn’t give a damn if she’ll run or rebuff him.
“Don’t run, dolcezza,” he hums. “You’ll only make it worse.”
Portia backs away like she’s trying not to provoke a predator, until her heel strikes uneven ground and she stumbles slightly, catching herself with a gasp.
He lurches forward to grab hold of her at last, a sick surge of satisfaction filling me up— his hunger, his satisfaction, his thrill at the chase.
“C’mere, dolcezza!”
A bright burst of red and blue lights cuts through and interrupts their cat-and-mouse face off.
The whir of a siren follows not a split second after. A police cruiser has pulled up to the curb some twenty feet away.
“Stop right there!” a voice booms over a megaphone or radio. “Hands where we can see them!”