Page 88 of The Masked King

“I believe him. Do you honestly think he would’ve walked out of that front door knowing a family was sleeping upstairs? You saw it. He⁠—”

“Enough!” He slides his hand out of his pocket, and I almost cry out with relief when he’s holding a cell phone instead of a gun. “Time’s up.”

“I want to see the den.” I’m not giving up now.

“You are not the one calling the shots.”

“I know.” I nod, tiny movements, enough for him to know that I understand my predicament, just like he said before. “But I need to see it, and then I’ll shut up.”

“I doubt that will happen,” he concedes, “but I will take you, for the sake of getting some peace.”

I follow him through the ravaged house, past what was once the kitchen, a grimy Aga still dominating the room, the cabinets all blackened but holding their shape, and along the corridor to another huge room where the furnishings are in tatters. Like the piano room, the den looks like a volcano spewed molten lava on it from above and left it to fester. I’ve attended a couple of arson scenes, and I’m no expert, but this room is unsalvageable.

“He set the fire here,” I say, tilting my chin to the ceiling.

“We’re done here, Ms. Payne.” His voice is cold.

“So, what, that’s it? You’re not even going to hear his version of events? What are you afraid of? Are you scared that you might get it wrong and lose the respect of those thugs out there? Because, you know what, I’d have a lot more respect for you, if you held your hands up and admitted that you’re not infallible.”

“You said you would shut up. We had a deal.”

This is too important to let it go though. “Why did he walk through the house and out of the front door?” My eyes quickly scan the room and settle on the external door, and I point to it. “Why not leave that way?”

He isn’t listening. Instead, he unlocks his phone, his mouth set into a grim line, and taps the screen. Then he turns it around to face me.

He’s calling someone. I see my face on the screen, and then the call is answered, and I’m looking at Enzo for the first time in twelve months.

My heart stutters, and my breaths come in short shallow bursts that leave me feeling lightheaded. Enzo’s beautiful face moves closer to the screen, his eyes flickering as he tries to place me into context, and all I can think is that nothing has changed. If he was here now, I would wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist like a scene from every good romcom, and I would kiss him until we both needed to come up for air.

“Demi?” Enzo speaks first. “What happened? Did they hurt you?”

I’m shaking my head and swiping tears from my eyes with my fingertips and smiling because it’s a miracle he even recognized me with my streaked face.

“No, I’m all right.” There’s so much that I want to say, but I don’t know where to start. Or maybe I do. “I’m sorry⁠—”

“Spare me the fucking romance,” Malevsky says, voice low. “Tell the hero to come and save you.”

Enzo’s eyes slide to my right. He heard. “I’m coming for you, Demi, and the fuckers better be scared.”

Fear, cold and heavy, settles in my core. Enzo is walking so fast I can’t guess his location, but it looks as if he’s marching all the way here, trampling anyone or anything that gets in his path.

“Enzo, they want Gio⁠—”

Something cold and sharp digs into my neck just below where it meets my jawline, and Malevsky’s thick arm wraps around my chest, pulling me back against him. I feel the trickle of warm blood from the sliced skin, and the sting of the knifepoint in my flesh.

“Time is ticking,” Malevsky takes over the call. “Do I look scared to you?”

Enzo’s eyes harden. “You’re mine,” he says to my captor before turning his gaze back to me and visibly softening. “I love you, Demi. I should’ve⁠—”

Malevsky ends the call.

23

ENZO

E

In and out. That’s all it was meant to be; get inside the house, disarm the alarm, set fire to the den so that it would be visible from the surrounding properties, and plant the warning in the piano room on my way out. Security was minimal. The occupants were in Russia, and that was the whole fucking point of carrying out the job while the place was vacant.