Epilogue | Enzo
Mullvain.
It’s not her voice that echoes in my mind when that name is spoken.
Like the Scottish ghost of Christmas past, it’s his.
His voice always haunts me: a fervent reminder of my conscience and the echoes of my sin.
Father Malone was right. If Kennedy was just some insignificant nobody, my uncle would’ve named his price. A real price. Not some life or death bullshit game.
Or, knowing him as I truly do, he’d have sold her months ago. Even if only to spite me.
Her being a Mullvain introduces a complication I hadn’t anticipated. It means my conniving uncle is banking on this going one of two ways...
Either Kennedy dies by my hands, or...
I die by hers.
I sink into her mouth and the way she’s melting into our kiss. God, even when she’s ablaze with unbridled fury, she’s stunning. Beautiful and broken. A shattered masterpiece for my soul to put back together.
Kennedy Mullvain will be the death of me.
I don’t give a fuck that she deserves a knight in shining armor to sweep her off her feet, slay her demons, and carry her far from my darkness.
Unfortunately for Bella, her path crossed mine. The temptation to keep her is too overpowering. My heart lives to latch onto hers, hook after merciless hook, until they beat as one.
I’ll perch her on the highest pedestal so she can watch as I obliterate any man that comes near her and annihilate any world without her in it.
I’ll carve out my rare, beating heart, serve it up on a platter, and present it at her feet.
In that aspect, for once, my uncle was right.
My death will be her decision.
Just as her father’s death was mine.
* * *