Page 53 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

PENELOPE

W e arrived at our new home.

The sea stretched below us, blue water crashing against the rocks with enough force to swallow sound. The house sat high above it all, on a cliff surrounded by blue from three sides.

The estate had been abandoned for years, hidden under fake LLCs and an untouched inheritance. Enzo paid the right people to clean it up fast. No cameras inside. No paper trail.

It wasn’t the kind of place you bought for comfort. It was the kind you bought to keep enemies out and your loved ones safe. Enzo wasn’t sure what other tricks Atticus kept in his back pocket, even beyond the grave, but he wasn’t risking any enemies appearing out of the woodwork, hunting for blood.

We parked and he carried our suitcases in, the house echoing as we walked through it.

“I had the kitchen and our bedroom suite completely redone,” he informed me. “The rest we can do together.”

I nodded once, my eyes on the horizon, taking in the majestic views. Under different circumstances, it would be breathtaking. After a sleepless night and revelations that’d shattered me all over again, all I could do was stare numbly at it.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, almost as if he expected me to bolt back to my parents. I wouldn’t. He was my present and my future. He was my husband. He was my home.

I reached for his hand. His palm was calloused, warm, familiar. Solid in a way nothing else felt lately.

“I’m fine, just tired,” I said.

He looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. “Go rest. It’s been a long night.”

“Will you rest with me?” He shook his head and I gripped his hand tighter. “Please, we both need it.”

He caved.

We showered, our favorite soaps already stocked for us, then slipped into bed.

His hands safely around me, I closed my eyes and evened my breaths. I knew sleep wouldn’t find me, but Enzo needed the rest more than me.

He’d need a sharp head, because my gut warned that the deaths of those two doctors wouldn’t go unnoticed.

I lay in bed next to him as the weight of everything settled around us like dust after an explosion. Enzo hadn’t moved. Not in hours. His breathing was slow and steady, but I knew he wasn’t asleep either.

You didn’t sleep after something like this.

You just survived it.

I turned my face toward him in the dark, tracing the silhouette of his profile, the way his hands were clenched in the blanket like it was the only thing tethering him to this world.

He was the same thoughtful and kind man he’d been to my sister, my parents, and my brothers, I was just seeing the rest of him.

The fury. The violence. The part of him that could take a life without blinking.

That was who we were: a legacy of heathens.

But we were so much more than that. We were avenging angels, justice seekers. Enzo had proved as much when he killed those men last night. He avenged Amara and saved other children from Dr. Gvozden’s future betrayal.

It was after lunch when I finally got up.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. My heart was torn down the middle. On one hand, I wanted to find a dark corner and mourn my sister without the shadow of death around me. But on the other hand, I heard my heart whispering something heavier.

Stay. Love him. Be there for him.

I thought about what he’d shared with me. He’d had a turbulent childhood; it was no surprise he ended up in that warehouse with a resigned look in his eyes, waiting for me to walk away.

But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that.

I stood, walked to the kitchen, and made coffee.

Enzo appeared minutes later. He was in gray sweatpants, barefoot, and there was a hollowness to his eyes, but he looked no less gorgeous.

He leaned in the doorway and said in a hoarse voice, “I thought you were sneaking out. Leaving me.”

His shoulders dropped, and I could almost hear something crack in his chest. It was almost as if he hoped I would leave him, that he deserved it. It hurt my heart to see it.

“I’m not leaving,” I answered honestly. “Not unless it’s with you.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“You’re my husband, Enzo. My home. I understand why you did what you did, and I’d be a hypocrite to say that I would have reacted any differently. I love you, and if you love me, let’s take on the world together, but don’t think for a minute I’m leaving you.”

His eyes stayed dry, but his fingers trembled as he crossed the threshold and reached for mine.

I took them.

Blood-stained or not, they were his, and he was still mine.