Page 146 of Forged

She nods and takes the glasses.

“Let me know if you need anything else, sir.”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

She leaves and I pick up the glass, downing the contents. I welcome the burn. It cuts through the noise in my head for a moment, just long enough to breathe before everything rushes back in.

I fill the glass again and set the bottle down. Slouching back on the couch, I stare at the ceiling trying to think through our interactions with Gabriel. How I might have stopped the betrayal, attempting to find a defining moment I missed. A clue, anything that should have set off the alarms in my head.

But I can’t find one.

I let someone in—really in, past the edges I keep locked down, past the version of myself I show the rest of the world. And it turns out he was never supposed to be there in the first place.

I was a target.

The anger continues to grow as I remember his voice sayingI love you.The tears that fell from his eyes. The way this will crush Neomi. My skin feels too tight, my emotions taking up too much space inside me.

“Fuck!”

I jolt upright and throw the glass against the wall. My chest is heaving as I run a hand down my face.

The door opens behind me. I don’t turn to see who it is, already reaching for the bottle again and bringing it to my lips, glass be damned.

“Boss?” Niko asks, his voice careful, like he’s testing the waters before stepping further into the room. “You alright?”

I let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. “Yeah,” I say, taking another drink. “I’m doing great. Fantastic, actually. Just celebrating.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“I already have what I need.”

There’s another pause, longer this time. Then, more cautiously, “Enzo’s on his way.”

That gets my attention.

I turn, just enough to glance at him over my shoulder. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I say, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.

Nico nods once and backs out of the room, closing the door behind him. I take another drink. Then another.

By the time Enzo walks in, the room has started to blur, the alcohol doing little to stamp down the anger and hurt inside me. Now it’s just a dull ache.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him, his presence filling the room. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me—the bottle in my hand, the broken glass on the floor.

“Did you pick this room to punish yourself?” he asks.

I huff out a breath, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah,” I reply. “Guess I’m sentimental like that.”

His gaze drifts briefly around the room. “This is the room you were in the first night with him.”

I nod once, lifting the bottle again. “The first time I saw him, I thought he was trouble. Too bad I mistook it for the good kind.”

Enzo’s mouth twitches. “You were close.”

“Yeah,” I say, the word dragging now, heavier with the alcohol. “Maybe I’m just a horrible judge of character.”

He steps further into the room, stopping a few feet away, close enough to be present without crowding me.

“You do realize you have a wife at home, right?”