His fist connnects with Radomir's nose, blood flying as his head smashes to the side.
Papa doesn't stop. Each hit has the sound of bones crunching and cartilage tearing filling the room as everyone stops to watch. Thunderous growls leave Papa's throat as the rage inside him is unleashed.
Eventually, he stops. Radomir's face is caved in. There's no chance he survived the beating. And yet—
Bang.
A bullet hits Radomir square in the skull.
Papa stands, stalking towards me. "Nikolai raped my Tessa?" The words are frayed at the end, as if just saying them is too much.
“That’s why he’s dead. Tess killed Nikolai.”
He exhales hard. No words. Just rage.
Around us, silence falls. The rest of the Ivanov’s lie dead.
Papa doesn’t miss a beat. “Clean this place up. No trace.”
He turns away, already dialing.
“Baby girl?” he breathes into the phone, a slight crack to his voice.
Shit.
That’s gonna be a fun conversation. Just another thing I need to apologize to Tess for.
I hate that Lucas managed to get away tonight. But he won’t for long. I will make him pay. I will make anyone who dares hurt Izzy pay.
By the time I make it back home it’s almost dawn. I’m exhausted, but instead of going to my own bed, I quietly push open the door to Izzy’s room, finding her sleeping soundly. She looks so peaceful like this—lying on her stomach, one leg bent upward, highlighting her ass that’s barely covered by her panties. Her golden hair fans out around her, her sun-kissed face relaxed.
I don’t go to my room. I should. But I just sit and watch her. Watch the rise and fall of her shoulders—a reminder that she's still alive. Still here.
God, I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want her.
I love her. I love her so much it hurts.
But she can never be mine.
I must fall asleep because I wake to a crick in my neck, an aching back, and Izzy’s sleepy eyes staring at me.
“Morning,” I yawn, stretching myself out.
She smiles. “Morning. Did you sleep there?”
I shrug. “Didn’t mean to.”
“You could have gotten into bed with me.”
I swallow, staring at the ceiling. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” She’s wearing one of my shirts again, something she does often. “We’ve done it before. We used to do it all thetime as kids.”
I want to tell her I didn’t want to fuck her as a kid and controlling myself around her now is an almost impossible task. But, instead, I say, “I just didn’t want to presume.”
She laughs, her smile lighting up her whole face, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well presume away. I’d never say no to an Enzo cuddle.”
“Really?” I ask, raising a brow as I move toward her.
