Page 18 of King of War

And now I’m waiting for Enzo’s return, my stomach twisted in knots and my palms clammy. This feels all too familiar, and I hate it. At least his father’s not here this time, looming over me, telling me what a dirty little whore I am. I don’t know how long I wait, how many books I pick up and then put back down, or how many times I switch on the TV before switching it off again moments later, before Enzo finally deigns to grace me with his presence. He walks into the room, the sound of multiple footsteps behind him. His brothers no doubt. There’s only one Medici brother I have any interest in seeing, and I can guarantee he won’t be any part of whatever shitshow is about to go down. Pity.

Sure enough, Rafael, Luca, and Micah all trail in behind him and they all take a seat, thankfully as far away from me as possible.

“Are you going to tell us what the hell is going on, Enzo?” Micah asks, his calm tone belying the frustration in his words. He always was a cool customer.

Enzo nods.

“Wait, right now? You’re gonna let her sit in on this?” Rafael asks, incredulous.

“For now. There’s nothing I’m about to tell you that she doesn’t already know,” Enzo says, eyeing me with suspicion and a healthy dose of hatred.

He then gives them a brief rundown of what happened at the Bertellis’ club a few hours ago, culminating in him shooting Vinny Falcone and kidnapping me—although he claims to have saved me. Asshole! Doesn’t matter that he’s technically correct, however, if he hadn’t been there wiping out the Bertellis, then I wouldn’t have needed saving.

“What gun did you shoot him with?” Micah asks.

“The Ruger. I left it behind. Wiped my prints and made sure Joseph’s were on it instead.”

Smart boy, I think but absolutely do not say.

Micah nods, like he agrees with my unspoken assessment. Then he turns his attention to me. “So, I suppose the only missing piece of the puzzle is what the fuck you were doing there.”

I consider giving them the whole truth, if only to make this nightmare end faster. But the truth is a live wire, and I don’t know who else has already touched it. Someone had that recording before the Bertellis got their hands on it. Someone with access to Enzo’s bedroom and who was able to walk inside, hide a camera, and walk out again without being questioned. And why now? Why did it surface six years later, almost immediately after their father died?

What if Giovanni was part of it? What if one of his sons knew? What if every answer I’ve spent six years searching for is sitting in this room, staring back at me? I can’t know who knows what. I can’t know who helped bury me. And experience has taught me one thing with brutal clarity: when it comes to his father and his brothers, Enzo will always believe them over me. Always.

So without the video, I have nothing but my word. And in the Medici world, my word has never been worth a damn.

Self-preservation makes me opt for the vaguest answer I can. “He had something that belongs to me. I went there to get it from him.”

“And what exactly is that something?” Micah asks coolly.

My skin bristles all over, but I maintain my composure. “Something personal.”

I’m not looking at Enzo; I refuse to. But I hear his low growling snarl, feel the impact of my words on him in the swift shift in tension. The room, already charged with it, now crackles, like the sizzle in the air immediately preceding a lightning strike. But fuck him. I’m not curating myself to make him feel better about being a possessive, judgmental asshole.

“Going to need a little more than that, Rayne,” Micah says, tone dripping with ice.

“Then you can go to hell, Micah, because I am not fucking telling you what it was. It was personal. That means it has fuck all to do with you or your brothers. And you can keep me locked in this room for eternity, but I still won’t tell you.”

Micah throws a quick glance at Enzo, who gives a single shake of his head. “So did you get it? This personal item of yours?” Enzo asks, his voice all fire in comparison to his brother—filled with venom.

“No.” Thanks to you killing all of them before I could, jackass! I don’t add the second part, because what would be the point? Enzo would only hear accusation and twist it into proof of whatever crime he’s already decided I committed. But him showing up today is too perfectly timed to be coincidence. Carmine must have known the Bertellis had that recording—or at least suspected it. So why send Enzo to wipe them out before I could get my hands on it? Because whatever was on that video threatened him somehow. Evil son of a bitch.

I school my face to neutral, swallowing down the panic clawing up my throat. “And I don’t know where it is either.”

Micah takes a seat, eyeing me coldly. “Perhaps we can help each other, Rayne.”

Enzo growls, but I ignore him and focus on the only Medici who appears to make decisions using his brain rather than his gut. He was always the coolheaded logical one, although some might call him devoid of emotion. “Help each other how?”

“Tell us what you were there to collect from the Bertellis, and perhaps we can find it for you.”

“We can’t risk going back there,” Luca warns.

Rafael hums his agreement. “Cops will be swarming the place. Not to mention Carmine could have someone watching.”

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.