Page 20 of King of War

“From whom?” Micah asks again.

“Hold up,” Enzo growls. “How did Joseph know about the camera angle? You’re telling me that sick piece of shit watched you?”

“He would have had to have watched it to see—” Rafael says.

“Don’t!” Enzo snaps, pointing a finger in his younger brother’s face.

“Yes, he watched it all,” I say, my skin crawling like it’s been invaded by red ants. I need out of here. I need to shower. To rage at something or someone. To get away from these men who make me feel like I’m nothing. I spent most of my childhood feeling invisible and unworthy, and it was this family who made me believe otherwise. Ironic, right?

It’s Luca who speaks. “Don’t you think we’ve interrogated her enough for now?”

I know he hasn’t done that out of any concern for me, and I have no idea what his motives are, but I could hug him regardless. My eyes meet his and he gives me the faintest nod.

Enzo’s jaw works, that thick vein pulsing. Eventually, he glares at Luca. “Show her to the guest room.”

Luca stands, and I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved, desperate for any excuse to get out of this room. Away from their questions and especially from Enzo.

I follow Luca out of the den, back through the immaculate, sterile living room. He shows me the guest room and then the en suite, and I nearly drop with relief at the sight of it. A locked door and running water. Something close to safety, even if it’s only an illusion.

I keep myself together until he leaves. Until the door clicks shut, the shower is on and the water is hot enough to sting.

Then I fall apart.

The first sob tears out of me so hard it hurts. Tears spill down my face, mixing with the water, and I press a hand over my mouth like I can somehow hold the sound inside. Maybe if nobody hears me break, then it doesn’t count. But my knees give out anyway, and I slide down the cold tile until I’m sitting on the shower floor with my arms locked around my legs, folded into the smallest version of myself I can be.

Small enough to disappear.

Tomorrow, I will be strong again. Tomorrow, I will stand tall, lift my chin, and pretend none of this touched me.

But tonight, I let the girl who still believed in magic take the wheel. The girl who thought love was enough. And she needs to let this pain break free, before it buries her alive all over again.

Chapter

Eight

ENZO

Istare at the door long after it closes behind her, like if I keep looking hard enough I might see through the wood and be able to watch her still. My chest aches in a way it has no right to. A deep, vicious pull beneath my ribs that makes it hard to breathe. What the fuck was that? I have seen men bleed out at my feet without flinching. I have listened to final prayers and pleas for mercy and felt nothing but impatience. But the haunted emptiness in her eyes got under my skin. And I didn’t even see it at first.

Then Luca spoke, and I finally looked at her. And it almost fucking ended me. Smart-mouthed, sharp-tongued, feisty-as-fuck Rayne I can handle. That version of her gives me something to fight. Something to hate. But that version who just walked out? I can’t handle her. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have done to her to know she was filmed in one of the most intimate, vulnerable moments of her life. To know someone took that from her and passed it around like currency. And then that sick fuck Bertelli watched it—watched her. My blood turns molten, rage clawing up my throat so fast I taste it. A hidden fucking camera. In my room. In our room. Who in fuck’s name put it there? Who knew? Who watched? And what else did they take from her, from us?

“Enzo!” Rafael says, and I blink at him. “Did you hear a goddamn word I just said?”

I rub my temples and screw my eyes closed, hoping it might clear my head. When I open them again, I focus on my brother’s face. “No. What did you say?”

“I asked you if you thought this video exists or if she’s making it up.”

“Why the fuck would she make it up, Raf? To us of all people? Can’t you see how utterly fucking humiliating that was for her?”

He holds his hands up. “Okay, just asking. Not like we don’t know she’s a lying bitch.”

“Enough!” I tell him. I know I called her that not so long ago, but that’s different. I’m entitled to call her that, he is not.

“Then if we believe her, we also believe that somebody set up a hidden camera in your fucking bedroom, Enzo,” Micah says.

“You think it was Tommy?” Rafael asks.

I shake my head. “That makes no fucking sense. Why would he do that unless he wanted to be caught? He was as surprised as I was when I caught them.”