Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
KENNEDY
“Is there anything you need?” Enzo murmurs as we step through the door.
But I don’t respond. Not to the way his hands trace up and down my arms, the warmth of his breath on my neck, or his kiss on that heart-shaped freckle he’s so fixated on—I should feel something for him.
But I don’t.
Is Riley right? Is he responsible for our father’s death?
I do need something. Answers. It’s the only reason I’m letting him touch me, be with me like this. “No,” I whisper, my heart pounding so hard and fast it feels like it might burst from my chest.
He kisses me again, and my chest tightens. Can a kiss taste like regret? “There’s something I haven’t told you, Bella . Something that will change us. Change everything. But?—”
I nod, understanding he’s right. “But what?”
It surprises me when my hand rises to his chest without permission, a primal reaction to the tremor running through his frame.
Instantly, his arms wrap around me, his lips kissing, nipping, licking, losing himself completely. A surge of desire crashes over us so hard that there’s no stopping him now.
And in that moment, a sensation washes over me, cool to the touch, numbing my thoughts.
He gently removes my clothes, placing tender kisses on my shoulders and breasts, completely adoring my body before shedding all his clothes.
“What did you need to tell me?” I ask, absentmindedly stroking his hair.
I need to hear it: the truth. And if he’s responsible for our father’s death, I need one more thing. Something gut-wrenching. Something absolute.
Revenge.
And with every touch, every moment of pleasure he gives me, I repeat to myself, “He will pay.”
The more he works me, making my body yield to him, wet and craving, teetering on the edge, the more I accept it.
I let myself do it—I come and fall from grace so willingly that a Bible verse echoes in my mind. “ An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth... But I tell you, do not resist an evil person .”
He crawls over me, plunging in deep and fast, and my body yields as it always does. Defenseless. The quicker his thrusts, the tighter I cling, arms around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist.
I hate myself for it now but vow to forgive myself for it later .
When the full force of him crashes into me—deep, shuddering, both of us crying out—my heart shatters to dust.
He whispers, “I’d do anything for you, Bella .”
I say nothing, panting through my thoughts.
I wonder, would he die for me?
When the shower starts, I throw on a robe and charge into his office. With a flick of the lights, I tear through every drawer, searching in a rush until I find one that’s locked.
I nearly break a letter opener, but the lock pops open.
What I find is horrifying. Photos of women. Girls. I flip through so many at once, to the point nausea shoves its way up my throat so fast, I nearly puke.
My eyes snag on another image, and all the air rushes from my lungs. Trinity.
Even through the blur of tears, it’s her. Trinity. His sister. My thoughts trip over the vivid image, coming to a jarring halt.
Something’s not right.
I’ve come to know Enzo as many things—cold, ruthless, a torturer, a killer—he freely admits to them all. But a sick, sadistic bastard who would do this to his own sister?
No.
Deep down, I know this isn’t him. I can’t explain how, but I know it to my bones, my core.
My soul.
I try another drawer, another locked one. This time, the letter opener snaps in two as it forces the lock, but the drawer opens. Inside, there’s a very large gun and pictures of...me ?
The photos are unsettling and twisted, and why don’t I remember any of them? I’m pretty sure I’d remember being dressed up in baby doll dresses with lots of bows.
I flip through them again and again, trying to jog my memory. But each time I look, I feel detached, like watching a crime show with gory images, able to dissect every detail because none of it is personal. It isn’t me.
Except it is me. I shake my head, sensing that something’s off. Something?—
“I wish you hadn’t found those.” Enzo’s voice cuts like ice, his eyes darkening until the gold melts into black. “I wanted to speak with you first.”
He stands there dripping wet, the towel around his waist barely covering his exposed form. A large black-and-blue bruise marks his lower ribs, and he shows no sign of a weapon.
Before I can second-guess myself, cold metal meets my palm, aimed squarely at his chest. “The only thing I want to hear from you is the truth.” Determined, I tighten my grip on the gun, fighting back the sting of tears. “Did you kill my father?”
There’s a desk between us. Not that it stops his presence from dominating the entire room.
He moves like a wild panther, the rise and fall of his broad, chiseled chest steady and hypnotic. His eyes hold a myriad of emotions yet remain void of any at all.
And I’m frozen.
Enzo takes another step, and I lift the heavy gun higher. It trembles as I struggle to keep it steady. “Answer me!”
His next few steps are silent, almost surreal, until the barrel is inches from his chest. A strangled sound escapes my throat, and fresh tears burn as they trail down my face. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
My voice trembles with a pleading note. He cocks his head, recognizing the desperation.
When his fingers brush against mine, my finger tightens on the trigger, just a fraction, before he murmurs, “If you want it to hurt, move it here.” He slides the gun below the bruised stain on his ribs, down to his gut.
I force the words out, stammering, “Tell me.”
“Or,” he continues, sliding the gun to another spot on his skin, “here.”
At this point, I’m blinking through the haze, tears blurring my vision, my heart lodged in my throat. “Enzo, please.”
So many emotions swim behind his glassy eyes, a turbulent sea, deep and dark. His words land softly between us—my father’s words. Tenderly, Enzo whispers, “What are you waiting for? Do it.”
The gun lowers, and my heart constricts with tight, sharp pain. I blink. “What did you say?”
Suddenly, the door opens, and all the men file in—his brothers and Sin. Protective and ready to draw their own weapons, to finish me before I finish him.
Sin shuts the door behind him. “Put down the gun, Kennedy,” he says, voice steady, words calm.
“No!” Enzo commands, throwing himself between his trigger-ready brothers and me.
The bewilderment on their faces mirrors my own.
“Get out of the way,” Dillon demands.
When he doesn’t move, Sin tries to reason with him. “We just need to get the gun. ”
Enzo pushes back. “I didn’t call you here to stop her. I called you here to protect her.”
“What?” they all say in unison, echoing my own shock.
Here I am, gun aimed at my husband’s back. It would be so easy to shoot him. Why can’t I do it?
“Because he’s savin’ you, darlin’ .” It’s as if Da is whispering in my ear, and the tears won’t stop.
“You will protect my wife.”
“I’m not sure the woman with the gun needs protecting,” Mateo says, motioning to me.
But Enzo doesn’t let up. “The arrangements have been made. My wife will inherit my wealth, and I brought all of you here because she will need witnesses.”
Smoke shakes his head. “Witnesses for what?”
“To verify it was self-defense, and”—Enzo sucks in a sharp breath—“to say goodbye.”
Smoke steps forward, the blood draining from his face. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying. You can’t—” He chokes on his words.
Did Enzo plan this? To sacrifice himself at my hand?
And then what?
Save me from jail? The wrath of his brothers?
Enzo turns to face me, his expression full of sorrow. “I wanted more time to figure out what was going on. But...” His sorrowful eyes shift to Dante. “My brother will have to find the answers I couldn’t.”
Dillon steps closer, defiant and looking damn near ready to tackle his brother. “I will not stand by and watch this.”
“None of us will,” Mateo adds, his words razor-sharp.
Enzo’s smile isn’t forced; it’s genuine. “This gets Andre off our back and protects my wife. And settles a sin I’ve spent a lifetime trying to erase.”
It’s as if he’s already made peace with the inevitability of this—of his death—of me killing him. And now, we’re all here to come to grips with it, too.
“Come on,” he says softly, almost tenderly. “We all knew if one of us was next, I was the sure bet. And besides, this isn’t like our father. This way, at least we get to say goodbye.”
“And what about Trinity?” Smoke’s voice, now almost pleading, is laced with deep, unspeakable pain.
Enzo shakes his head, a haunted look in his eyes. “Tell her I love her. I failed her, too.”
“Failed her?” I mumble, shock muddling my thoughts, making it hard to process his words.
Dante’s eyes well with tears. They all do.
Then Enzo drops to his knees. His voice is chillingly calm as he moves the gun to his heart. “Here, Bella . If you want it over quickly.”
Sobbing, I shake my head, unable to believe this is me, about to kill my husband. Or him, about to let me. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you what you want. If I could’ve traded places with your father, I would have. His death deserves vengeance. You’re his heart. You both are.”
My hand lands on my freckle. The heart-shaped one. Da said it to me every night. You’re my heart. You both are . But, how?
Enzo’s breath shudders. “Kennedy Mullvain D’Angelo, the day you agreed to marry me, I vowed to give you anything you want or die trying.” His hand holds the gun firmly against his chest. “If this is what you want, then I want this, too. I love you.”
The deafening crack shatters the room. My heart stops.