Page 54 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

PENELOPE

I t had been two days since we moved in. The house still echoed, though Enzo and I had already lost hours browsing for decor inspiration online. The problem was, neither of us had the energy to care about rugs or furniture.

So he turned to his work, diving into it with the kind of focus that hinted more at avoidance than ambition. I tried to study—half-heartedly—and gave up before I even got through a page.

Lana Del Rey’s Honeymoon album looped in the background—ironically enough—and its haunting, melancholic tones perfectly mirrored the weight that lingered between us. Even without the shadow of recent loss, it would’ve sounded like mourning.

The music faded into the back of my mind while all my worries sprinted forward. I didn’t realize Enzo had stopped working until I looked up and found him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me.

“You’re not studying,” he reprimanded gently.

“You’re not working,” I shot back, but there was no bite in it.

He walked over and dropped to the floor beside me, our backs pressed against the blank wall. No furniture, just us and the cold hardwood beneath us.

“Did I ever tell you about my cousins, Hannah and Arianna?” He shook his head, and I didn’t think he’d see the humor in reminding him he’d met Hannah—inadvertently—years ago, on his first stalking mission. “They got wrapped up in that whole organ trafficking business. They got Hannah.”

“Hmmm.”

The criminal underworld really was a small place. “She’s alive, of course. Lost an organ, and probably a part of herself.”

“These men and women who are part of this organization don’t care about right and wrong, innocent or not.”

He was right, and it was good that Enzo was dismantling it. I just feared others wouldn’t see it that way, that they’d assume he was taking over for more sinister reasons. But we’d cross that bridge when we got there.

“I was thinking,” he started after a long silence.

I turned to look at him. “So was I. What were you thinking about?”

“You first.”

A half-empty bottle of sparkling water sat between us and I reached for it, squeezing gently. “The contacts you’ve retrieved, access you gained after ending Atticus… Do you think we could use it somehow?”

He nodded once, barely. “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. You said we should turn it into something good, and if I build a software—a worldwide network—that can connect surgeons, donors, and patients, we could save a lot of people.”

I swallowed. “What about… killings?”

“No, no killings.” He rubbed his hands together, then pressed them to his face.

“It would all be based on voluntary donation. Anyone who signs up to be a donor would be registered in this database, but not on a region-by-region basis. It would be worldwide, cutting out anyone who’s trying to deal on the black market. ”

“It would put whoever is left out of business.” My voice cracked. “Enzo… We could fix this.”

“I know.” His voice was raw. “We have to eliminate those who have been hunting children of criminals for organ harvesting. Those vendettas have to come to an end. Furthermore, organ trafficking in general is too tempting for criminals. It gives them too much power over a human life, and a thirst for life makes people desperate to do whatever is needed to save those we love. But with this software…”

I looked at him and saw the hope behind his eyes.

I blinked hard against the sting of tears. “With this software, everyone in the world will have a fair chance," I murmured. “The system will be centralized and face scan upon login will run it against all agencies’ databases.”

He nodded. “Access, just like any doctor would. No parent, husband, or child would ever be taken advantage of again.”

“Enzo?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know who got her heart?” The question had been burning in my brain for days, and although I was terrified to know, I had to find out.

A long silence stretched between us. The album had looped again—“God Knows I Tried” this time. I almost laughed at the double dose of irony. Almost…

“I don’t, but I can find out. Do you want me to?”

I nodded.

“Promise me something,” I whispered.

“Anything.”

“If we do this… we do it on our terms. Not the Omertà’s. Not the Kingpins’. And definitely not this organization’s terms. We shut down Atticus’s legacy.”

He looked at me like I’d just handed him a match and a fuse.

“Deal.”

He pulled me onto his lap and we stared into the nothingness of our empty house, already knowing we were about to fill it with something far more important than furniture. Our love and loyalty to each other.

ENZO

I wasn’t able to look away from her, admiring the way her hair fell over her shoulder. The soft lines of her face and the devastating strength that’d captivated me all those years ago, on a stage in Paris, a cello in her hands. But it was her loyalty that I loved most of all.

She could’ve run by now. But she hadn’t.

So I said the only thing that came to mind. “Thank you.”

Her eyes flicked open and she tilted her head to gaze up at me. “For what?”

“For still being here.” She looked at me for a long moment. “I wouldn’t blame you if you left,” I admitted.

She shifted closer, so close now that I could feel the heat radiating off her. “For better or worse, Enzo. I might not have meant the words that day in the church, but I mean them now. With all my heart, for better or worse. Richer or poorer. In sickness and in health… We stick together.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I said.

“Funny, because someone could argue that I don’t deserve you,” she murmured, a trace of a smile tugging at her lips. “So let’s not waste time on that, and just… I don’t know. Just kiss me.”

I leaned in slowly. Her breath hitched. Our foreheads touched, then her hand slid to the back of my neck, grounding me.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow and certain. Her body pressed into mine, and I wrapped my arms around her like she might slip through my fingers if I didn’t.

Every part of me had been on edge for days—wired with grief, adrenaline, and guilt.

But now, the world quieted.

Her touch didn’t erase the darkness, but it gave it shape. Something I could carry. Something I didn’t have to carry alone.

I shifted us around so we were both sprawled on the floor. Our clothes were discarded in the blink of an eye, leaving us skin against skin, warmth against cold air, grief shaped into need.

I couldn’t stop touching her.

My hands roved over her body—her hips, the curve of her ribs, the nape of her neck—worshiping her, owning her, but most importantly protecting her.

She moved beneath me, writhing with need.

Our rhythm adjusted itself, slow and deliberate, not trying to rush the moment but sink into it. Her breath hitched every time I whispered her name, and when her fingernails dug into my shoulders, I welcomed the pain. It made everything feel more real.

I closed my eyes, loving her hands on me, her touch reverent and needy, just like my hard cock was for her pussy. I needed her strangling my dick now.

I swallowed her breaths, and as if she could read my thoughts, she wrapped her legs around my waist.

I pushed into her warm, wet entrance, thrusting until I was buried inside her.

She gasped into my mouth before lifting her hips to meet mine.

I dropped my head into the crook of her neck, swearing under my breath, while she moved beneath me, welcoming me into her body and soul. She ran her hands down my back, her nails leaving traces I wanted tattooed into my skin.

“ Cazzo , I love you so much,” I rasped, moving in and out of her.

She opened her eyes and everything stilled. All the noise—our breaths, our thoughts, our moans—went quiet. It wasn’t the first time I said it, but it had that effect.

I brushed her hair back with shaking fingers, tracing the line of her jaw.

“I love you, Penelope Marchetti.” My voice was hoarse, uneven with emotions. “For as long as the sun rises and falls, and even long after I’m gone, my love for you will remain. It’s always been you, mia anima .”

She cradled my face in her hands and smiled softly. “Say it again, please.”

I kissed her deeply, needing to feel the essence of her being in my bones.

“I love you,” I breathed against her lips. “I love you so fucking much that sometimes I’m terrified I’ll turn into an enraged lunatic with this obsession I feel for you.”

She exhaled deeply, brushing her lips against mine.

“Who in the fuck needs a book boyfriend when I have you, Enzo?” I had no idea what that meant, but I liked it. “I love you too.”

Then she kissed me, fiercely and desperately. Our grief and loss faded for now, forgotten as we moved together. I thrust in and out of her, slower now. Reverently.

Her fingers threaded through mine, gripping them as she gasped with each thrust, her pussy like a vise around my cock.

“More…”

My movements turned harsher, hitting deeper into her tight heat.

I could feel her legs trembling, her muscles tightening, as she took everything and gave me even more.

“Oh… please… yes,” she panted, her eyelids shut tight.

I grabbed one of her full breasts, squeezing hard and pinching her nipple, twisting it between my fingertips.

“ Guardami ,” I told her.

She opened her eyes, her gaze flicking to mine, and she moaned, her pussy constricting. Reaching between us, I found her clit with my thumb, brushing it lightly, teasing her.

I kept circling her clit, rubbing and pressing while I fucked her. No, it wasn’t fucking. It was making love, and cazzo , it was even better.

Her walls clamped down and milked my cock as she shattered. The bliss on her face was a sight to behold, her soft moans echoing off the walls of our home.

My balls tightened and my body seized, my cock swelling inside her as the orgasm rushed over me and I followed her off the edge.