Page 32 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

Four months since she shot me, she’s here. When the guards deliver her to me, she is still out from the sedative. I stare at her face for long minutes, having difficulty realizing that she’s real and not a figment of my imagination.

The clearing throat of one of my men shakes me out of my stupor, and I notice she was shot. That was not the deal and rage unfurls, wanting to cut open whoever dared to touch her but me.

“The wife of the Boston boss shot her,” he says apologetically, but at least she’s alive. After the chaos Luciana brought them, this is a small price to pay in retribution.

I could have the doctor tend to her wound, but I want her to wake up and feel the pain that won’t come close to what I’ve lived with.

“Where do you want her, boss?” my head of security asks me.

I take her from his arms, not liking that he holds her.

Then I bring her to the underground building.

In the basement, I gesture with my hand to leave me alone with my ruin and the demons that mock me.

Placing her in the metal chair set in the middle of the room, I secure her wrists and ankles. I look around the sparse room except for the gray closet where I store my torture tools, a metal table and another chair.

This is where I brought the men responsible for my father’s death and my sister’s kidnapping. I tortured them until their blood covered my skin, and their screams pierced my ears. It’s a soundproof cement room with a prison cell spanning the left side.

Every second in her vicinity tears at my sanity, knots up my heartstrings and seizes my lungs. I can barely breathe. My love has long switched to hate after agony and hurt flooded my chest, drowning my heart.

Letting her sleep off the drug, I stride toward my home, needing to get a grip on my composure. Luciana has an uncanny ability to make me react impulsively.

My sister intercepts me, staring me down. My decision is controversial but, in my position, I don’t need to justify myself.

Dahlia purses her lips, a veil of incredulity coming down her face. “You really brought her here?”

“You’re safe.”

“Oh, brother. I don’t worry about me,” she mutters, and walks away, leaving me to ruminate over the words she didn’t say.

I don’t care about anything else but appeasing this dark craving in me.

She’s here. I type the message to Mika as I walk inside my home on the compound grounds, where Kill waits for me, wagging his tail. I shake my head at him. As a Rottweiler, he should be feared by everyone, but my dog is a bundle of sweetness.

Crouching down, I pat his head, and he leans into my touch, licking my hand before I enter the kitchen and prepare his dinner.

Then I move to my bedroom, taking a shower and getting ready for bed.

I place my phone on the nightstand, not waiting for his reply. Then I slip under the covers, hoping that my brain can finally catch a break, allowing me some much-needed sleep.

Once I wake up, I feel reinvigorated and ready to face her, my body buzzing with a surge of energy.

Taking my time in dressing, I slip my gun into the back of my pants, and I go downstairs. Eating breakfast, I look outside the window that spans across the open living and kitchen space. It’s a beautiful late summer day, the sun shining brightly.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think I am dragging out time after I’ve been desperate to have her back. Took one risky decision after another, yet everything went almost according to plan.

I put so much thought into getting Luciana back that I had no chance to think about all the ways I’d punish her once she was here.

I have the basics covered, but I am afraid seeing her will derail me, and I’ll end up putting a bullet through her chest, just like she did me. She doesn’t deserve that small mercy. She deserves nothing from me.

My jaw clenches so hard, a molar might crack.

Standing up, I walk outside and look at the path leading to the underground building. It contains a bunker with several safe rooms and a hidden torture chamber, as I don’t want my mother and sister to see me in action.

It’s further away from the main house, and my mother and sister never venture back there.

My men know what to do in case we are attacked.

I have so many security measures, I doubt that could happen, but no one is untouchable.

I learned that. In case someone tries to breach this fortress, my men will escort my sister and mother to safety through the underground tunnels connecting the mansion and the bunker.

My men march up and down the property, greeting me with a respectful bow of their heads before continuing with their rounds. I hop into the golf cart and make my way to meet my prisoner.

Emotions battle inside of me, making my chest a war zone, two fronts fighting constantly and wreaking carnage—the remnants of what I feel for her combined with the misery caused by her betrayal. It’s that hurt I want eradicated.

She was sent to kill me. Why should I be mad at her for doing her job? That’s my stupid heart trying to process things going utterly wrong for me. I was so confident in her feelings, I didn’t consider that she’d actually go with her initial plan.

The rational part of me has taken apart every moment we spent together and the memories we made. I can’t overcome the fact that she played me. That’s what insults me. She should have killed me when she had the chance.

Once I park, I place my palm against the small panel that looks like an electrical box but disguises the security system.

Taking the flight of stairs down, I halt in front of the metal door that is accessed with a code.

My fingers shake as I type each number, surely eager to get her punishment started.

She’s awake when I step inside, her silver eyes shining with emotion. I guess I am not the only one affected. Her entire composure falters before she puts on a brave mask.

I would have given her everything. Nothing would have been impossible for me in my desire to offer her the world with me bowing at her feet.

I yank my gun from my back to make sure she understands how precarious her situation is. Pointing at her head, I taunt her. One shot would kill her.

My finger is steady on the trigger as she jerks her chin, challenging me.

“Do it. But I doubt you can.”

It’s her confidence that used to be the biggest turn on that now enrages me.

I pull the trigger and the bullet whizzes past her head, embedding itself in the wall behind her.

Her eyes widen, panic slowly giving way to relief. Fuck, that one singular tear rolling down her cheek affects me more than the reminder of wearing a dented pendant.

“I was right,” she says softly, a smile teasing her mouth.

“Where would the fun be in killing you that fast, Silver Death,” I say, sliding the gun into the back of my pants.

She narrows her eyes at me at the use of that impersonal nickname. Fuck if I care.

“You stirred up some shit.”

She huffs, slumping in her chair. I know she’s uncomfortable having been in that position for hours. Not to forget her wound still bleeds.

“I hear Chiara shot you. Pretty ironic.”

“Oh, I am well aware of the irony,” she mumbles, avoiding looking at me.

Silence stretches as I stare at her. She appears beaten down. My heart clenches at the sight, and I ball my hands into fists at my side, hating the pesky remnants of my feelings for her. Where would the pleasure be in torturing someone who looks as if they checked out of life a while ago?

“Augustus couldn’t save you this time, huh? I hear he revoked his protection once the Syndicate cornered him.”

“Still jealous?” she asks in that voice dripping with a taunt.

That’s the woman I want to break.

“Why would I be? I took things he never had.”

She squirms in her seat, pinning me with a death glare. “I gave them to you.”

“Mm-hmm,” I say noncommittally as I get in her face.

I slide two fingers under her chin, tipping her face up. At the contact, a current zaps through me. Remaining unaffected will prove challenging. Fuck.

At my touch, a tremor rocks her as it should.

“Why postpone it? I’ll end up dead, anyway.”

“Where would the fun be in that?”

She throws her head back, laughing. “You don’t know what to do with me, do you?”

Gripping her chin, I apply pressure and force her to look me in the eye. “Oh, Luciana, I made sure to get you where you are right now. There was an entire line I had to bypass to ensure it’s me who gets to kill you.”

I see the moment it hits her that I am serious.

She seethes at my confession before she snaps.

“You still love me. I am rooted in your heart, stuck in your mind, flowing in your fucking bloodstream, Enzo. You can’t kill me.”

“We’ll see about that.” The words come out half threat, half desire to prove her wrong.

I move to the cabinet, taking out what I need.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes flitting between the bag I have in my hand and my eyes.

“Sewing you up.”

She gulps, panic coloring her voice. “You have a doctor on call. Don’t make me actually kill you because you butcher my skin.”

“Vain as always,” I grit out, pissed as hell for even mentioning that.

She expels an indignant sound that almost pulls a smile from me. “Vain? It’s called taking care of my body.”

“You should have picked another job,” I say matter-of-factly as I approach her.

“Yeah, becoming a whore. No, thank you.”

Trying to get back control, I cock my head, letting the threat linger. “Hmm, don’t entice me with the possibility.”

She rolls her eyes at me, unimpressed. “Empty threat, Enzo. I doubt you’ll let another man even touch me. Stick that empty threat up your ass.”

Good god, she’s the one trapped, bleeding, and with no way to escape yet she gives me attitude.

I rip the black shirt off, exposing her entire arm. Looking from one side to the other, I see the bullet made a clean escape.

“Call the doctor already.”

“That’s a favor you’re not getting,” I say cooly.