Page 20 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

I turned my attention to Isabelle. She was visibly shaken now. Shock punched through her first, but anger wasn’t far behind, burning in her wide eyes as she stared at me.

“Are you done?”

Before I could respond, she shot up from her seat, stepping closer, her voice sharp and furious.

“This was unnecessary. He didn’t deserve this! You can’t just go around stabbing people because you’re jealous!”

“Jealous? Babe, please.” I scoffed, my voice dripping with dark amusement.

“If I were jealous, he’d be leaving here in a body bag, not just with a little hole in his hand.

But you might want to stop talking before I decide to put a bullet in his head instead.

Trust me, I’m not in the mood for a debate. ”

“Don’t fucking Babe me. You’re acting like a psychopath. He didn’t do anything.”

Psychopath? Nah, it was far from that. Sure, she saw me stab the asshole, but that’s nothing.

If I were really letting loose, I would’ve cut off every finger that touched her.

Maybe even a couple more for disrespecting me.

People have lost limbs for a lot less. But I kept it in check.

She’d seen a glimpse, just the tip of the iceberg, but if she ever saw the full extent of it, if I ever let that part of me out in front of her, it would change everything.

She wouldn’t see the man she’s been playing games with anymore.

She’d see something else—someone far more dangerous than she could ever imagine.

And once that side of me was unleashed, there’d be no turning back.

It would shatter whatever fragile connection we had.

She’d run. And I wasn’t about to let that happen.

The guy, pale and panicking, looked back and forth between us, stammering as if he was about to plead his case. “L-look, I—“

“Shut up,” we said at the same moment, cutting whatever he was about to say dead.

I let out a laugh. “You’re only making this worse for him. Really, shutting up would be doing him a favor right now.”

The waitress appeared, calmly taking in the scene. She looked at the idiot twisting in pain, blood seeping toward the edge of the table, then handed me my drink with a smile. “Luca, your usual booth is free if you’d like. The guys can handle this mess.”

The asshole, still pinned to the table, started pleading for his life, his voice shaking with fear. They always do at this point. It’s like a script.

I turned to him, pulled the knife out of his hand, and stepped back.

“Get the hell out before I have to call housekeeping for a bigger mess.”

I swallowed the whiskey in one go and looked at Isabelle. “We’re leaving.”

She stared at me, her eyes narrowing like she was weighing whether to push back. I could see the wheels turning, her mind running through every possible comeback. But she caught the look in my eyes and held back.

“Fine,” she grabbed her purse. “Let’s go.”

Nina and Chrissy hurried to catch up, Nina giving me a pointed look that I ignored.

Isabelle walked ahead, her stride confident, yet I could feel the fury radiating from her.

She was pissed, and that was good. I wanted her pissed.

Keeps her focused. Keeps me entertained.

It was better than the alternative—better than the way my hands itched to pull her close, to remind her she was mine, and no one else’s.

Enzo appeared next to me with raised brows. “You’re usually quick with the violence, but stabbing over her in the middle of the club? That’s how I know you’re in deep.”

“Don’t make this about her. He was disrespectful and touched what wasn’t his. End of story,” I said, but it was an empty lie even to my own ears.

Enzo had no idea. He didn’t see what I saw, didn’t feel what I felt.

The way she laughed with him, flirting like it was some kind of game…

I could’ve put a bullet in his head right then and there.

Took everything in me not to. But I wasn’t just pissed at him.

I was pissed at her. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Pushing me, testing me, seeing just how far she could take it.

And the worst part? I was furious with myself for even feeling this way.

This wasn’t me. Possessiveness, jealousy—hell, none of it had ever been my style.

Women were supposed to be interchangeable; Enzo and I had swapped them without a second thought, and it never meant a damn thing.

But she wasn’t just another woman. She was the one who haunted me in ways no one else could, the one who slipped under my skin and stayed like a ghost that refused to leave.

I didn’t know when I’d let it happen, but there was no turning it off now.

What I felt now was nothing like the pull I’d felt twelve years ago.

This was more than a fixation—it was borderline unhealthy.

I wanted her to belong to me. And that thought?

It scared me more than a loaded gun to the head.

As we made our way out of the club, the tension between us crackled in the air, heavy and electric. Every step she took only added fuel to the fire burning inside me.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.