Page 125 of Twisted Vows

The room closes in.

Before I know it, my hand is on the iPad. The audio file is still open, paused mid-playback. For a second, I almost stay and ask him to explain. Not that he ever would.

But I can’t. All my words die in my throat as Vincent stares at me like I’m a lab rat in his twisted experiment.

I pivot and stagger out on legs that might give out any second, each step a conscious effort. The hallway feels too bright, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry wasps. My heart won’t slow down. It crashes against my ribs like it’s trying to claw its way out and escape this nightmare even if the rest of me can’t.

I stumble down the stairs, one foot in front of the other like a drunk person pretending to be sober. I rush out of the door into air too thick to breathe. The city greets me with drizzle that clings to my hair and eyelashes, making me look like a drowned rat. Seems appropriate, given how my life is falling apart.

The lights smear into gold-and-silver streaks across the wet pavement, beautiful in that way tragic things always are.

My hands shake as I text Gio, the only person I might still trust. How pathetic is that?

I’m still walking. Don’t wait up.

The lie feels like a small, absurd mercy.

The phone screen blurs. From tears or rain, who knows. Everything blends together.

People shuffle around me, rushing to work, to coffee, to lives untouched by bloodlines and power struggles. Somewhere, a vendor shouts. In the distance, a faint siren wails. The world keeps spinning while mine caves in.

Enzo’s voice won’t leave my head. “I’ll handle it personally.”

Each word twists deeper.

He said it to protect me. He must have. He must’ve meant something else.

But then, I recall all the silences and the way he left at dawn without explanation. The glances he thought I didn’t see whenever Gabi’s name came up. The walls he built every time I got too close to the truth.

I trusted him. Gave him my body, parts of me I’d locked away for years.

Shit, what if Vincent’s right?

The thought nearly brings me down to my knees.

I press a palm against a cold brick wall, breathing in the city’s metallic scent. Diesel, rain, a trace of garbage, life. Everything’s sharp, real, and grounding.

Love shouldn’t ache like this. It shouldn’t make you feel small and desperate and helpless.

And yet, under the storm of doubt, one truth still claws through the noise.

I love Enzo.

I love him so much, it’s ruining me.

And that terrifies me more than my father ever could.

Chapter 26

Enzo

Dawn crawls across the blinds, cutting the office at the mini villa into bars of light and shadow. I’ve slept here again, the leather couch barely wide enough for my shoulders, but it keeps me close to intel, close to the nerve center.

It’s the kind of morning that smells like regret. Slick, metallic gun oil lingers in the air. The ritual of wiping, loading, and snapping keeps my hands steady. Pieces of a weapon always fit together more cleanly than thoughts ever do.

I don’t bother with the coffee that’s gone cold on my desk. I didn’t sleep, so there’s no drowsiness to chase away.

Carrying out Gabi’s order has been easier said than done. Every whisper circles back to a cold trail. Vincent Martinelli remains a ghost, and every lead shifts shape before I can grasp it. And the Volkovs, those rats with gold teeth and nuclear tempers, haven’t been able to find him either.