Page 29 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

She actually tried to kill me—a part of me withered the moment she pulled the trigger, leaving me there to bleed to my death. Unlucky for her, I survived.

Revenge is all I can think of. It coats my insides, dripping from every fiber of my being. My heart wants its pound of flesh. We let her in, only for her to massacre it.

I watch the night swallow the sky, just like rage does me.

Tossing back the bottle of whiskey, I see another bottle shattered to pieces on the floor. I vaguely recall throwing it against the wall.

I’ve known loss, suffering, and regret. Fuck, they’ve been steady companions, but this hurt is so debilitating that I can’t function, can’t fucking eat.

It’s been three days I’ve mostly spent in a stupor, drinking myself into oblivion, in the frail hope of numbing myself. It’s not working. I know I can’t continue down this path, but fuck if I can make myself care about anything else. The pain is overpowering––all consuming.

I drink and let every moment between us play before my eyes, sneering at my stupid ass for allowing myself to believe in something greater. Luciana must be laughing her ass off at fooling me so well. I trusted her more than anyone else and faced the biggest betrayal of my life.

And shame, so much shame sticks to my skin. I won’t be able to wash the grime away even if I submerge myself in holy water.

Every moment feels as if someone threw me in an icy river. I kick my legs and wave my arms through the merciless water, drowning in the cold—I’ll never get back to shore.

I’ve holed myself up in my penthouse, not wanting to see anyone. I am battling an army of emotions, but they constantly knock me down. I wish she’d succeeded in killing me.

Groaning, I place my palm on the window, and it instantly curls into a fist. My head hangs as the bottle slips from my fingers, tipping over and spilling its golden liquid at my feet.

I don’t fucking care. I bought enough alcohol to sustain myself until I am ready to claw my way out of this well of misery. It feels like mourning as scenarios play in my head—for all I had for a short time, for all we could have built together—a life.

I should have paid better attention, seen the betrayal coming and stopped it from happening. I should have done so much, yet I brought her to my bed, craving her in my life, standing by my side.

I would have gone to war for her, and she never intended to stay.

Fuck, maybe killing me was the only way since I would have never let her go, fully stuck in my obsession.

The elevator chimes, announcing someone is coming, and I know it’s Mika. My men were informed not to let anyone in, but he’s the expectation. And now my best friend will see me in this state of weakness—my sorry ass, he warned time and time again.

I don’t move from my spot, not only because my legs feel like two sticks that could give up on me at any moment, but every step demands all my skills—skills that are now inebriated and located at the bottom of yet another bottle.

Everything is hazy, spinning and turning, my vision blurry, my head a mess. I should at least try to sleep this funk off, but I hate my bed now. The sheets still carry her scent, and I thought if I watched enough over my city, it would redirect my focus back to what I needed to do.

His feet thump on the floor as he approaches me. I could very well imagine things, but then a sigh follows, deep and filled with sympathy as if he knows anything about matters of the heart.

“I want to be alone,” I mutter, not looking at him, ashamed of how far I would have gone for her.

Nothing in my life mattered more than her—this witch who most surely put a spell on me, feeding me her poisonous kisses until all I longed for was another euphoric taste. Not caring how it would end, with me dead at her indifferent and cruel feet.

“I’ve left you alone for the last three days,” he says matter-of-factly, as if you can quantify the time you need to heal. “To clear your head, but I see all you’ve done is make it an even bigger mess.” He keeps his voice neutral, not berating me but more stating facts.

“What do you want me to say? That you were right, and I was a moron?” My voice sounds groggy, just like I feel.

“Does it even matter? I hate seeing you like this, and I fucking worry.”

“I am fine,” I grit out.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

I swivel around. The room spins, the image bouncing and blurring in front of me. I blink a few times to make it stop, but the vertigo only worsens.

He’s beside me in a second, catching me. Holding me from plummeting to my face, he gently pushes me to the couch.

“There is not enough alcohol or blood you can spill for what you have. Once you experience that loss, it stays with you. But it will get better. You’ll learn to hide it and live with the what-ifs, the longing, that anger and channel it into something else.”

I’ve known him almost all my life. He’s either wiser or somehow knows what he’s talking about. Sure as fuck, I don’t know the answer.

“Have you been in love and didn’t tell me?” I ask, my misery wanting company.

“Not all of us make such a fuss about that. You Italians, always so hot-blooded,” he mumbles.

I chuckle. “You Russians, always so cold-blooded.”

“I’d drink to that, but I am afraid you’ll end up with alcohol poisoning,” he says, looking around the room. On the bar, several bottles lie empty as well.

“What happened?” he asks in a calm, calculated voice, as if not to scare me away. Mika treats me with kid gloves and utmost care like I am a damn porcelain egg, and he’s afraid that I’ll crack any moment.

He’s my best friend. Who else would I tell why I am this fucked up?

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, wanting but failing to erase the image of her betrayal. “I was on my way to her when she ambushed me.”

“Was she in the compound?” his voice suddenly turns icy, his eyes lined with desire for blood.

I shake my head, sighing. “No. She caught me outside. In the middle of the private road, perched on a black bike, looking like—”

“Enzo.”

“Right, and then she looked me in the eyes and pulled the trigger.”

To emphasize the close call, I loosen the first two top buttons on my shirt, revealing the dented pendant and the afflicted skin under it.

He comes nearer to see better, and he swallows, his pupils moving from left to right as if he can’t believe his eyes.

“Fuck, you’re one lucky motherfucker.”

Yeah, so lucky . I would love nothing more than to point the gun at the memories in my head to blast her away from there.

He stays a while longer, never saying “I told you so” or telling me what to do. He just offers his silent company. We just have each other, leading a life of responsibilities and loneliness.

No wonder I went astray once I tasted something different, mad in my quest to hold on to it.

“What do you want to do?” he asks from my left, both of us sitting on the couch.

His question pulls me out of the clutches of my mind, slicing through the thick fog.

My jaw clenches. “I wanted to give her paradise. Now she’ll know hell.”

I will get her back. Whatever it costs. Luciana Rossi will belong to me and experience firsthand what happens to the people who betray me.

A smile lifts the corners of my mouth.

Run, little doll.

Hide, little doll.

But I will snatch you. Tick tock. Tick-fucking-tock.

“Enzo, the last time you had that smirk on your face, you butchered an entire gang.”

I don’t want to hear anyone else’s cries but hers.

She wants to know what power is, she will witness it.

Her precious Augustus won’t be able to protect her forever.

“What are you thinking about?” Mika asks, worry lacing his voice.

I cock my head, smirking. This new goal rewires my brain, bringing me back to life. “I want the Council shaken to its foundation.”

“We talked about this. It will take time, Enzo.”

I wave him off, not bothered at all by this minor obstacle. “Not necessarily. My cousin is not the brightest. So, what would happen if someone whispers in his ear that taking down the Boston heir will benefit him while helping the ones who want the Syndicate eradicated?”

His eyes widen. “You want to involve the Syndicate?”

With the plan forming in my head, it dispels the thick fog, making everything clearer. “Without them knowing.”

His brows furrow. “It’s risky.”

“They will rise to the challenge. I will take it as a favor they owe me for becoming their associate. It seems fair, but I’ll get what I want in the end.”

“And what is it you want?”

“Retribution. The power will be just a bonus.” I stand up. “Smile, my friend. We’ll get everything we wanted by not shedding one drop of blood or using even a single one of our resources.”

He places his elbows on his thighs and steeples his fingers. “I don’t know if that plan of yours is brilliant or plain stupid.”

I guess we’ll see and until then, all I have to do is wait, moving the pieces on my board to ensure I win.

Not wasting any time, I call my contact on the Council, a friend of my father’s who has played the game for a long time. All the members are ready to end Augustus’s reign and his assassin. I told Luciana she should make friends. Now, she’ll see what happens when she’s all alone with no protection.

And then she will be trapped—at my mercy.

Fully recharged, I count down the days until my plan will come to fruition. I’ve always wanted things to happen fast, eager to get whatever I sought as soon as possible. But the best revenge takes patience, allows your enemy time to get sloppy and forget they should be on constant alert.

I can’t wait to inform Luciana I threw the first stone.

***

Keeping myself busy has helped me curb my desire for retribution.

First step was to become an associate of the Syndicate.

Kieran, Cato, and Cameron don’t make a secret out of wanting to gather as much power as humanly possible. It is plain strategy on my part to affiliate with them.

I meet them at their headquarters in Boston. A party is in full swing, a story above, but I don’t care about anything but making this deal.

In his office, Kieran stares at me with sharp eyes that seem intent to look through me to discover my deepest secrets. He won’t find mine. Working together will guarantee both of our organizations flourish.

We shake hands, and I stay a little longer, trying to enjoy their VIP party, but I am not in the mood, even though I enjoy seeing Cato so rattled by me just having talked to his wife.

I leave him to deal with his misfortune on his own.

I fly back home, waiting for another piece to fall in place.

The jet lag is killing me, but I am so close to reaching my goal that I push myself. There’s this unshakable feeling that if I stop, then I will never fulfill my goal.

Days, nights, they blend into a cacophony of actions. Playing the master puppeteer is difficult when one thing could ruin everything you worked for.

I am about to sign a construction deal when Mika rushes into our conference room, and says, “Cato is in the fucking hospital. Luciana shot him three times. Fuck.” He rakes his hands through his hair.

I know he’s split between killing her himself, so the Syndicate doesn’t have time for retribution or letting them make the first move.

My plan has been flawless until now. Now I must come up with something more to give them, so they don’t kill Luciana, but send her my way.

“They’re planning to take down the Council for their involvement in attacking them.”

“Let them. The old order will die and then I can start a new one from the ashes.”

***

After Cato recovers, I video call them. All four of them sit at a table in a line, changing the triangle shaped table they had to welcome their fourth member and lost brother, Hayden.

In a line, they show their unshakable unity.

I understand that bond because I share that with Mika.

But I need to make sure the deal I made with Kieran still stands.

“I want Luciana Rossi. Alive. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Not any longer. She threatened my wife,” Cato snaps.

What the fuck is wrong with her? She’s become careless, more smug, and that shows she’s desperate, perhaps sensing her end is coming.

“I want her alive or the deal is off. She’s mine to punish.”

I don’t negotiate nor compromise, and they must see that. Her life, her death, is mine.

Cato is about to say something when Kieran says, “No mercy. That’s our final offer.”

Hayden’s stony gaze sets on mine as if searching for the truth.

“Deal.”

“Don’t cross us,” Cameron says, and disconnects from the call.

They’re men of their word, something I am too. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that I lied even though I am determined to make her more miserable than she’s ever imagined being in her entire damn life.

It won’t take much longer and then she’ll be here, and her punishment will begin.

I close my eyes, imagining all the ways I can torture her.

My cock, which has been dormant for the last four months, gets hard.

“You can’t have her,” I say in the empty room.

The night is my only witness that I don’t sound as sure as I’d like to.