Chapter 7 #2
Micah keeps his cold stare trained on me.
“We can handle the cops, and nobody is going to be watching us, Rafael. We are all Enzo’s loyal soldiers, and therefore Carmine’s too.
For now, he doesn’t suspect a thing. Unless you think Carmine had any reason to suspect you’d be there? ” He directs that question to me.
I shake my head. “I don’t believe anybody except Oscar and Joseph knew I was coming in today.
What he had was…” Damn, how do I even explain it without telling them what it was?
“It wasn’t the kind of thing the Bertellis would have wanted to advertise.
Besides, Oscar hated Carmine. With good reason it seems.” Absentmindedly, I wipe my cheek, which was covered in Joseph Bertelli’s blood just a few hours ago.
“Carmine had no idea she was there. If he had, there’s no way he’d have bought my story about Vinny.”
“And he did buy it? You’re sure of that?” Micah asks.
Enzo’s eyes narrow, like he’s thinking. “He doesn’t suspect anything. He still intends to pin the Bertellis murders on the Russians. As for Vinny, he got caught in the crossfire.”
“Enzo has always been able to read Carmine better than anyone,” Luca says.
“Yeah, and he’s far too unforgiving to have let you walk out of there if he’d have even suspected you were lying to him,” Micah adds.
Rafael spins on his chair. “Still think this has something to do with you being there, Rayne. What the fuck did the Bertellis have on you?” he asks, his voice almost singsong, like he’s a kindergarten teacher and not a raging sociopath.
Of course he thinks they had something on me that I want to hide, not that it was something that would have cleared my name. Which just confirms that my decision not to let them in on what I was there for is the right one. I ignore Rafael, and thankfully everyone else does too.
Enzo gets up and starts pacing the room.
Micah leans forward, hands clasped between his spread thighs.
His eyes dart between Enzo and me. “This feels too coincidental to be an accidental meeting between the two of you. While I can accept Carmine probably didn’t know Rayne was there, he wanted the Bertellis taken out for a reason that could well have something to do with you.
So, I will ask you again, for all of our sakes.
” He directs all of his attention to me again.
“What did they have that belongs to you?”
God, they’re all so infuriating. How did I even end up in this mess? Why do I care about that video after all these years? And why am I bothering to still protect a man who shows nothing but disdain for me?
Enzo stops his pacing, coming to a stand behind me and placing his hands on the back of my chair, on either side of my shoulders.
He lowers his head, bringing his mouth close to my ear, until his warm breath dusts over my skin.
“I swear to god, Rayne, if you don’t start talking, I will fucking make you,” he growls, low and deadly.
“Don’t mistake me sparing your life for anything more than curiosity.
You are a lying, cheating bitch, and I would happily make you suffer for every single fucking second of pain you caused me. ”
He hasn’t changed a bit. Still so led by his gut, by his anger, too blind to see the truth.
I could tell him the truth now, six years later, and he might hear, but he won’t listen.
Maybe this is the quickest way to get myself out of here and away from all of them for good.
And that’s the reason I give in. “They have a video of what happened that day six years ago.” I’m still deliberately vague because the truth won’t change the fact that Enzo broke us beyond repair—and killed his best friend—for a lie.
And while I hate Enzo Medici, I did love him once.
More than any person can possibly love another.
For that reason, I choose to spare him the pain of a mistake he can never unmake.
Still, the animalistic sound that comes out of his mouth makes a shudder run the length of my spine. “A video?”
“That’s what Joseph told me.”
“Who did he get this alleged video from?”
Alleged? Asshole! “I don’t know.”
“Did you see it?”
No, but he described it in great detail.
Took delight in doing so too, sicko. I shake my head.
“I didn’t get a chance to before you and Vinny showed up.
” Just ten more minutes and I could have had it—the proof I’ve waited for so long.
But I’m not sure it even matters anymore.
Sure, there would be vindication, but it would feel hollow now after all these years. It wouldn’t change anything.
“So it might not even exist,” Micah says, his brow furrowed in consternation.
“If it did exist, who would have recorded it?” Rafael asks.
Heat floods my cheeks, equal parts fury and humiliation.
How dare they sit there dissecting the worst day of my life like it’s a business problem to solve, another mess to clean up.
Like I’m not sitting right here. Like I didn’t have to survive it.
Every word feels like fingers picking at a wound I’ve spent six years trying to stitch closed.
“Could it have been Tommy?” Micah asks.
“It wasn’t Tommy,” I snap, some of the anger inside me wanting to spill out.
I remind myself that they don’t know—well, one or more of them might know something.
But they can’t know what truly happened.
The Medici brothers are ruthless killers, and perhaps some are even raging sociopaths, but I can’t believe any of them were wholly complicit.
Enzo snarls. “Still defending him after all these years?”
No, you stupid asshole. It wasn’t Tommy because he wasn’t fucking there!
I scream those words inside my head, but outwardly I reinforce my armor, keep my composure.
“Joseph told me the angle of the camera was from was from the left side of the room. So everything could be clearly seen.” Bile surges up from my stomach, but I quickly swallow it down.
“And as there was nobody else in the room, it must have been some kind of hidden camera.”
Enzo freezes, his face twisted in a scowl. “What?”
Dear god, must I explain everything to him like a child? “There was a camera set up in the room. Obviously beforehand.”
He glares at me so fiercely I feel the heat blistering my skin. “A camera in our bedroom?”
The reference to our anything is too painful to think about, so I try to move on as quickly as possible. “That’s what Joseph said.”
“If that’s true, then how the fuck did Joseph Bertelli get his hands on this video?” Rafael asks.
“All I know is he came into possession of it recently,” I say.
“From whom?” Micah asks again.
“Hold up,” Enzo growls. “How did Joseph know about the camera angle? You’re telling me that sick piece of shit watched you?”
“He would have had to have watched it to see—” Rafael says.
“Don’t!” Enzo snaps, pointing a finger in his younger brother’s face.
“Yes, he watched it all,” I say, my skin crawling like it’s been invaded by red ants.
I need out of here. I need to shower. To rage at something or someone.
To get away from these men who make me feel like I’m nothing.
I spent most of my childhood feeling invisible and unworthy, and it was this family who made me believe otherwise. Ironic, right?
It’s Luca who speaks. “Don’t you think we’ve interrogated her enough for now?”
I know he hasn’t done that out of any concern for me, and I have no idea what his motives are, but I could hug him regardless. My eyes meet his and he gives me the faintest nod.
Enzo’s jaw works, that thick vein pulsing. Eventually, he glares at Luca. “Show her to the guest room.”
Luca stands, and I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved, desperate for any excuse to get out of this room. Away from their questions and especially from Enzo.
I follow Luca out of the den, back through the immaculate, sterile living room. He shows me the guest room and then the en suite, and I nearly drop with relief at the sight of it. A locked door and running water. Something close to safety, even if it’s only an illusion.
I keep myself together until he leaves. Until the door clicks shut, the shower is on and the water is hot enough to sting.
Then I fall apart.
The first sob tears out of me so hard it hurts.
Tears spill down my face, mixing with the water, and I press a hand over my mouth like I can somehow hold the sound inside.
Maybe if nobody hears me break, then it doesn’t count.
But my knees give out anyway, and I slide down the cold tile until I’m sitting on the shower floor with my arms locked around my legs, folded into the smallest version of myself I can be.
Small enough to disappear.
Tomorrow, I will be strong again. Tomorrow, I will stand tall, lift my chin, and pretend none of this touched me.
But tonight, I let the girl who still believed in magic take the wheel. The girl who thought love was enough. And she needs to let this pain break free, before it buries her alive all over again.