Page 49 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

That I delivered my speech without breaking down is a miracle. I was never afraid to show Enzo my vulnerabilities, my fears, and my dreams, but he keeps pushing me away.

There’s no point delving into the past, hoping for redemption, and believing in more. Our love story is irreparable.

“Kill,” I call out, and the pup follows me up the stairs.

The moment I am ensconced in the bedroom, I slink down the door. Breaking apart, I cry—cry until my eyes are dry and my soul empty of stupid wishes.

Kill licks my tears and rests his head in my lap. I pet him absentmindedly. I don’t know about other dogs, but he is amazing. I love Kill so much. He’s pure and loves me unconditionally. He’s way better than humans, that’s for sure.

I hear Enzo pacing the hallway, and I hold my breath as the door handle turns, but then he retreats. He won’t fight for me.

I pull myself up, and I drop onto the bed, not caring about anything else but to forget my misery for a while.

My sleep is restless. I toss and turn, not finding a modicum of peace. It doesn’t surprise me when I wake up in the middle of the night. It’s strange waking up in my bed, not deliciously sore in his.

I miss the closeness, how he holds me during the night, with him staying inside of me and not letting an inch of space between us.

When he thinks I am asleep, he caresses my body, whispering how beautiful I am, how he’ll never let me go, how the one who’s really in control is me.

But the moment the sun rises, announcing a new day, he erects all the walls again, leaving me on the outside to pummel them, screaming for him to “Try. Give us another chance. We deserve it. I fucking deserve it, as I’ll be yours forever.

” Is that so unfathomable to him? I refuse to believe our love isn’t stronger than our mistakes.

I’ve taken all he dished my way to atone so he can feel better about still loving me. Yet, he refuses to give me more of him.

As I roll out of bed, I am mad again—the anger is so potent, simmering under my skin. I am determined to give him another piece of my mind.

I dart to his room, but he’s not here. Stomping downstairs, I see Enzo by the window in the living room, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He looks as if he hasn’t slept at all. Actually, he’s dressed just like he was last night.

I watch his reflection in the window. I know he knows I am here. His chest heaves and his jaw clenches, but he refuses to acknowledge me, which reignites my fury.

“And by the fucking way, because apparently you don’t want to see or accept it. I knew what I was shooting at. I aimed for your damn pendant.”

“I know.”

Wait. What? Confused by his answer, I am at a loss for a response. It dawns on me that maybe he doesn’t have feelings for me any longer. That while he loves to fuck me, he doesn’t have to love me for that. No, I refuse to believe that.

He turns to me, looking disheveled, with his shirt unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up below his elbow, hair mussed as if he threaded his hand too many times through it.

“I am done playing with you, Luciana,” he says, voice distant, as if he’s trapped somewhere else. His intense gaze bores into me. He stares at me, as if it’s the last time he can do that. The dichotomy tears me apart, splitting my sanity in two.

I never thought there would be an actual expiration date to this. “Are you drunk? You’re setting me free?” I ask, just to be sure.

“I know who your parents were,” he says, the corners of his lips turning down.

I suck in a breath, my heart galloping. Afraid I will faint, on unsteady legs, I walk toward the sofa and sink down. Were, so they’re not alive anymore.

“Your real name is Julia Morozov, and your brother is the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, Mikail Morozov. Your fucking arrogance and hubris must be genetic. You were born a princess, but just of the underworld.”

The information rolls over me, causing a train wreck in my head.

Enzo has no reason to lie. Mikail is my brother.

I can’t even remember how many times I wanted to kill him.

Can my life be more ironic than this? He’s vicious and deadly, and I couldn’t have chosen a better person for a brother.

That doesn’t mean we’ll get along now that we’re siblings.

A headache pulses between my temples, and I hold my face between my palms, trying to ease the pressure. “How long have you known?”

“I found it out after you left me.”

My first thought is to go back in my mind and imagine what would have happened if I stayed, but what good would it do me?

My life is a mess, just like everything else around me.

I wish Enzo would hold me tight while I make sense of what this means for me.

I need him to stay by my side and help me navigate through the changes as I deal with the implications of basically losing the only identity I know. But I don’t always get what I want.

“Why tell me now?” I croak.

He’s done with you. That’s why. Our story is over. We’re not getting a second chance, but I want him to have the guts to look me in the eye while shattering my heart into a million pieces that cut so deep the wounds will never heal.

“Augustus and my father came up with the plan. For my father to take over, yours had to die, but instead of your father being in the car, your mother and you were. When Augustus realized his mistake, he spared your life. I guess he intended to use you as leverage but then he turned you into his assassin. He’s a sick fucker who will pay for that. I vow to you.”

Augustus, you have no fucking idea what you unleashed . I will torture you until I will rip out your heart and stomp it with my heel.

But that’s not my biggest issue right now. A whooshing sound slices through the air. Looking up, I see his bloody fingers curl around something. The blade clacks to the floor and at his feet lies the chip that most likely was linked to my collar.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to fight and then fuck. I would be high on endorphins and still believe that one day we’ll be good.

He stalks to me and brushes the hair from my shoulder. I know what he wants to do. I am so weak and broken down that I can’t even fight him.

“Don’t…” My unfinished plea is chock-full of other silent words like “keep me,” “love me,” and “don’t let me go.”

Knowing him, guilt over what happened to me because of his father wins over his feelings, becoming the stronger motivator to make things right. But nothing in my life is right without him. He’s my only compass.

With a delicate key, he unlocks it. A click follows. The collar drops, and I grab it before it falls, holding onto it with a vise grip.

“You’re free, Julia.”

“Julia?”

“That’s your name,” he says softly, surely sensing I am on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“My name is Luciana, not Julia. Stop calling me that,” I shout.

“Free, huh? How can I be free when I am yours? I don’t want to be fucking free.

” I hold my head, shaking it as if to clear my thoughts.

“Why are you doing this to me, to us? Why are you so cruel? I love you, damn it.” I stand up and pummel my fists into his hard chest. He doesn’t move, letting me shout and hit him until I tire.

This should have been his punishment from the beginning, setting me free when all I’ve ever wanted was to be his.

With the snap of a finger, I lost it all—my identity, my love, my future—but gained one last goal: revenge.