Chapter 29
My eyes snap open. I’m in an unfamiliar room but based on the dark decor and the smell of silky, rich cigars, I would say it’s Enzo’s, yet he’s nowhere to be found.
Memories of my childhood mixed with what I experienced yesterday have me on edge. Despite my mind knowing it was only a nightmare, my muscles shake as if I’d ran a marathon.
Except part of it wasn’t, and part of it was an illusion.
The reality is, if I were home, I’d be climbing into bed with Ilya, his ability to soothe my monsters far outweighing my own.
In the end, seeking his comfort kept me from flying off the rails.
From going solo and killing every person in the house.
But I’m not home and the need to make people bleed rolls through me like a tidal wave.
As I step out of Enzo’s bed, I grab my glasses from his bedside table and tip toe to the elevator leading to the main level. I feel like a fucking zombie. Emotional breakdowns fucking suck. No wonder I try to avoid them at all costs.
The bell dings and the elevator opens to the foyer. I step out, blinded by the bright light cascading in through the windows. Guess I slept all day…
I head upstairs toward my room but as I walk past my office, the image of Sienna’s broken body flashes in my mind and vomit threatens to rise once again.
My legs weigh me down like a ton of bricks as I drag myself to my room and unlock the door.
All I want is to climb into bed and forget for a few more hours but I’m still in the clothes from last night.
The fact Enzo didn’t change me, knowing I wouldn’t want him to, pulls at a forgotten thread inside my soul. Unraveling me slowly.
God, when did I become such an emotional bitch?
Going into the bathroom, I stare in the mirror as I undress and scan over the scars once again.
I peek over my shoulder, eyeing the feather brand between my shoulder blades.
My flesh tells a story that’s not my own.
Nothing has been done to me I’ve consented to.
Nothing except what the twins have done.
The pleasure and pain they’ve pulled from me was given freely.
What would it feel like to take that power back?
I slip my boy shorts on and a large tee, my go to comfort clothes, and try to lay down. But the darkness haunts me. All I can see is her face as she bleeds and suffers on my table. My fingers grip the handle of my blade tucked under my pillow and I fight the urge to use it.
I’m restless, counting down the moments to try and fall asleep but nothing works. Finally, after what feels like hours, I fling the covers off and walk to the door.
I need…
Him.
My feet carry me down the hall and I stop in front of Rafael’s door. My knuckles rap softly against the wood, but moments pass without an answer. I should retreat, this is silly. He’s going to turn me away.
But he knows. He knows about my nightmares. He’s the only person I want right now.
The door never opens.
My mood sinks until I notice a faint light from the end of the hall. The library.
Softly padding down to the door, I lightly push it open to see the fire roaring. Perpendicular to it, a leather couch. Across from it, two accent chairs. One contains the dark-haired, mafia heir.
Moy temnyy d’yavol. My dark devil.
His back is to me, but I know he heard me enter as he picks up his head from its slouched position. When I come around to the front of the chair, my heart cracks further seeing the man who’s always composed, utterly fractured.
Dark circles shadow his dark, gold-flecked eyes, his black hair disheveled, button up shirt untucked from his black slacks and his fingertips narrowly clutching onto an empty whiskey glass.
“Leave, Lucy,” he slurs the command, glare still glued to the whiskey glass.
He’s clearly drunk. I wonder if he’s been drinking since last night, or did he try to start the morning as usual, unable to bear the weight of realizing today is not normal?
A child was murdered last night, and no one did anything.
“No,” I reply, stepping closer to him.
He drops his glass, and it thuds against the carpet. His arms reach out, wrapping behind my thighs as he pulls me between his legs. “Piccola cerbiatta testard, cosa mi stai facendo?”
His gaze meets mine, begging me. Stubborn little doe, what are you doing to me?
“Rafael.”
His scorching touch runs up the backs of my thighs, up and down, repeated three times before his forehead meets my lower stomach. His hot breath against my legs sends shivers through my entire body, through my entire being, and it hits me like a sledgehammer, crumbling the tower of my resistance.
“Copla mia.” His voice trembles as he whispers his confession. A false confession.
“It’s not your fault,” I say as I run my fingers through his dark, soft locks and pull, tilting his head up so I can catch his gaze. “One man was not meant to carry so many burdens, Rafael.”
His nostrils flare, and a sheen coats his deep brown, gold-freckled irises.
He grips my hips and pulls me into his lap, my legs straddling him.
Electric pulses race up my spine as he caresses my waist. His hands drift up the center of my chest and finally settle on my shoulders, his thumbs tracing my collarbones.
“Where did you come from, Bellissima Cerva?” he whispers, his brows scrunching to the center. I’ve never seen Rafael as broken as he sits right now. He sways slightly, eyes glassy and unfocused. But they are trying, trying to stay locked onto me.
“Hell,” I answer honestly.
“My brother thinks you want us. To stay with us. Is that true?”
I want to say yes, to tell him the truth but it’s not safe. Not for me, not for them. Am I being a coward? Probably. But I don’t know what else to do. There’s no way I could have these devils who have captured my heart.
My mouth drops open to lie and he pinches his eyelids closed, as if in pain. “Don’t lie.”
“I can’t, Rafael. There are…forces keeping me from doing what I want. Keeping me from who I want to be.”
“That wasn’t my question.” He hiccups, blinking rapidly as if clearing his vision. “I didn’t want you to stay, you’re dangerous.” He grips the back of my neck, tugging on my hair slightly. “But I’ll make it happen. For Enzo. I can’t be yours, but he already is.”
A nauseating sickness forms inside my stomach. “I can’t be yours?” Did I mistake what I felt for Rafael, what I thought he might feel for me? Does he only want me to stay for his brother?
I don’t know when it happened, but I belong to these brothers.
Each one pulls from me different parts of myself I don’t want to let go of.
Enzo gives me freedom to breathe, unrestricted authenticity, a dose of epinephrine running through my veins.
Rafael feels like a shot of morphine after years of suffering, a relief from my past.
I run my palm up his chest before gripping his throat, tightening my hold until he’s able to focus completely on the threat sitting on his lap. “Don’t you want me?” The question has him studying me with a slight upward tilt to his lips.
“Lucy,” he warns, gripping my wrist but I don’t loosen my hold.
I lean into him, cinching the distance between us, keeping close so he can’t break our connection.
“Answer me, Rafael. You expect honesty from me, you’ll give me the same.”
His attention drops to my lips, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he pushes up his hips, grinding his hard length into me. “Feel how much I want you, bellissima.”
My nostrils flare as I hold in stuttering breaths. Could I stay? Could I tell them the truth of who I am, of that night? Would they listen, would they care? It’s not a flawless idea, it comes with more risk than I’ve ever laid out, more uncertainty.
But if there’s a chance to stay, to be loved…
can I live with myself if I don’t try? Like Nova said, I better make sure I make a difference with the path ahead of me.
“I’m not some beautiful doe as you call me.
I won’t break under you, and you can’t keep me behind you, protecting me from this world.
I’m already in it, farther than you think.
But when hell breaks loose, you have to promise me one thing. ”
His eyes, which always seem to be assessing rather than connecting, search mine for the secret I won’t give, not yet. I know when the truth is revealed, Enzo will rage like a wildfire, but if I can get Rafael to promise me reason, maybe I’ll have a chance to explain myself.
“Promise me you won’t let me burn.”
He’s quiet, gaze is hazy yet quizzical, weighing the pros and cons, even in his drunken state, he still analyzes all the outcomes. “Are you sure you don’t want to, Bellissima Cerva? You never know who you will emerge as.”
Before I can answer, he stands, lifting me with him and my ankles cross at his back. He says nothing as he exits the library, walking with me down the hallway as I take him in. Hard lines between his brows, etched into his skin from years of discontent contradict the softness of his features.
When we enter his room, he sets me down and pulls the covers back and I climb in. He molds around me moments later, not even bothering to change his clothes.
“Did you have a memory?” he asks, finally breaking the silence, as if everything that happened in the library was a dream. It takes me a moment, the question completely disjointed from our previous discussion.
I nod.
“Even your memories will be mine, bellissima,” he mumbles into my hair, already succumbing to the exhaustion of his mind and the catalyst of the whiskey.
As his breathing evens out, I know I’ve signed my death warrant. It’s a relief, like cracking a window in a burning house, or taking your first deep breath of oxygen, but my mind knows the backdraft will soon consume all three of us.
I don’t know what will happen, but I know I’d rather die by their hands than my father’s.