Page 51 of King of War

No, my whole world was walking out of the door.

I clung to her legs, begging her to stay. Her tears dripped onto my face as she gently removed me, telling me she loved me. The days after her leaving were a blur, but mostly I recall my father’s anger. His hatred for her and Uncle Sal, his best friend. And then I saw him cry, the only time in my life I ever saw that. A few days later, she was back. Barely five years old, I had no real sense of time or what happened to bring her back to us. But we never saw or spoke of Uncle Sal again. My mother never appeared with another bruise on her face, and she doted on all of her sons from that day forward. But I never forgot that pain of her leaving, and I don’t think I ever fully forgave her for it.

“They are all like your mama,” he says, snapping me back to our conversation.

I grind my jaw and end the conversation before I say something I regret.

I tuck my cell into my jacket.

“Pop pushing your buttons again?” Micah asks.

“You know he’s got some kind of fucking issue with Rayne lately. I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into him.”

Micah glances at me, rolling his eyes. “Not her and Tommy again?”

I nod, furious at even the suggestion that my best friend and my fiancée would do that to me. Tommy is like another brother. And Rayne is…well, she’s my life. The thought of any man putting his hands on her sends me into a spiral—but Tommy. As far as I know, he doesn’t have a death wish, because he knows I’d fucking kill him if he ever touched her.

“He’s trying to get into your head. You know that, right?” he says.

“Yeah, I know.”

Money collected and job dealt with, I check my phone, hoping to see a message from my girl. Maybe a picture of her in her bikini while she’s lying by the pool today.

I sure do have some pictures, along with a message from an unknown number.

Do you know where your girl is right now, King? She’s with your buddy, Tommy.

What the fuck? I click on the first image. My entire world freezes. Disbelief. Rage. I stare at it, my brain refusing to compute what my eyes already know. I swipe to the next one. See her little daisy tattoo. Someone’s cock sliding inside her. White-hot fury floods every cell of my body, and my entire existence narrows to the one spot in front of me, of half a dozen photographs of someone fucking my girl. They’re obviously taken by the guy fucking her. Tommy? Could be. And then I see the ring on his middle finger. There are only two rings like that in the whole world. His grandfather was a jeweler and had them specially made.

I slam my fist into the wall, barely registering the pain.

I’m vaguely aware of Micah’s hand on my shoulder. “Enzo. What the hell is wrong?”

How do I explain? It can’t be real, none of it. Except I just saw it. But photos can be doctored. Altered.

Do you know where your girl is right now? The words echo through my head, taunting me.

“I need to get home. Now.”

I have no idea how I got from the hotel to our house, or how fast I got here. But I’m running through the hallway now, so fast that my shoes slip on the polished floor. I spent the first half of the drive here convincing myself it couldn’t be true, and the latter half going through every interaction they’ve ever had. Thinking of all the opportunities they’ve had to be together.

I’m already raging by the time I reach the bedroom. The door is open, and fuck but it already reeks of sex. I run inside…and my whole fucking world crashes to the ground. Rayne, my fucking Rayne, is in his arms. He’s cradling her to him like he’s some kind of fucking savior. My eyes dart to the bed. The crumpled sheets. The stains of their betrayal.

The rage is so intense that I can’t breathe. It’s molten, my blood rocket fuel and their betrayal the match. The world seems to slow down somehow, but I move faster than I have ever moved in my life.

I grab him. Punch him in the mouth before he can spew out a lie. I’m aware of her screaming. Defending him. I train my fury on her, not even aware of the words pouring from my mouth but knowing they’re all venom and violence.

And Tommy is on the floor, me straddling him. Punching him over and over and hoping that some of this rage might abate. But it doesn’t. Every blow only makes me angrier. She’s crying now.

Suddenly, I’m four years old again, and my world has shattered into a million fragments. This time nobody will ever be able to put them back together.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

RAYNE

Angelo left after lunch, having an evening mass to prepare for, and his absence only makes my loneliness more crushing and acute. I wish Enzo would deal with this Falcone situation so that I can go back to my normal, wonderfully mundane life.