Page 31

Desperation of a Forbidden Love.

I wonder when things changed for Dante. Was it when his father died? Was it when his mother no longer remembered his name? I watch the way she pretends like she’s having the time of her life and I wish she was. Above everything else, that’s what I want for her. Happiness, safety, and security. The freedom to be happy in herself and in the plan for her future. Maybe I can still make that happen, far away from Falcon’s Keep. Maybe she won’t end up hating me for taking her from here.

What are you going to do when she eventually does?

The voice inside my head can be the cruellest of all at times and in this moment, I want to silence it. For a split second, I wonder if this is what Nicholas went through on a daily basis, and it makes me regret not nurturing a relationship that we could potentially have had as brothers.

She smiles at Olga as she places the champagne flute on the table, talking about something that makes her eyes sparkle, and I wish I was the one having the conversation with her.

After changing, I returned to the party, not because I wanted to but because I needed to be next to her even if that meant I had to watch her from afar.

Every hair on my neck stands when a heavy presence makes itself known beside me as the chair scrapes on the marble flooring.

“I heard you took care of the twin issue tonight.” Frances places his gun on the table, a clear sign of aggression.

“Not to piss on your parade, but you throw one boring fucking party.” I shrug. “Decided I could entertain myself.”

“Come on, Raf. I know we don’t know each other that well but it’s hard to miss the way you stare at her.”

I clench my jaw, watching Dante now talking with some woman beside Nera. I grip my thighs harder as I fight the urge to throw my fist into his mouth.

“Was it not enough to have Dante bow to you? Why are you doing this to Nera?”

He sighs audibly, reaching for a cigar he’s left on the table, and I watch him pat his pockets for a lighter as mine burns in my pocket, the heavy burden left behind by the one person who would know exactly how to navigate through this.

“Have a light?”

Reluctantly, I reach into my pocket and hand it to him. He lights the cigar, handing the lighter back.

“I’m not interested in Falcon’s Keep.”

I remain silent, trying to work out what the fuck he’s after if he doesn’t want the island. What could he possibly need with Nera?

“I know how you’re feeling right now––”

I scoff. “That’s very fucking unlikely.”

He sits upright, his elbow now resting on his knee as he leans forward. “Let me make this clear for you. If you try to stop the wedding tomorrow, all it takes is one phone call and Nino and Santi will be dead by your hands.”

It’s like molten lava is flowing through my veins as he speaks.

“Do you think Nera would ever forgive you for that?”

My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching, and he smiles, like a sick fucking psychopath.

“Great. Glad we had this chat.” He pats my shoulder and stands. “I expect you there, front row.”

Tomorrow. Fuck. The wedding isn’t supposed to be for another day.

When he leaves, I slip my phone out of my pocket and send a text.

Me

You need to be here tomorrow.

I wait to see if he’s read it when a minute passes, then two, and three before I mutter under my breath and light a cigarette as I follow Frances with my gaze. He reaches Nera, and she doesn’t make it obvious, but I can see she’s uncomfortable.

The music stops and a slow ballad begins as he takes her to the middle of the dancefloor, whispering something into her ear as his eyes clash with mine. My hand twitches with the desperation to put the entire chamber of bullets into his fucking head.

Like a car crash, I can’t turn away as I watch him put his hands on her waist, where mine were just moments ago, and it incites a war within my body.

I can’t be here.

My chest cracks as I rush out the doors with Dante on my tail.

“Brother!”

His footsteps follow me, but I don’t stop.

“Raf!”

I whirl around.

“ Vaffanculo!” I yell, all the bottled-up emotions now spilling out of me.

He raises his hands and takes a step back as I point my revolver in his face.

“Rafael… Che succede, fratello?”

“Don’t call me brother! I’m not your fucking brother! I never was and I won’t ever be!”

“Just––”

“Dante! I’ll put a bullet in your head if you take a step closer.”

He remains still, unsure of my next move, and if I’m completely honest, neither am I.

How the fuck am I supposed to save her when I can’t even get past my differences with my own blood? How in the world is she supposed to love me when I can’t give myself the grace I deserve to admit that I no longer owe the Della Torres anything?

A rush flows through me as I let it all out. “I love her, Dante!” Dropping my arm beside me, I reveal every single emotion that’s been killing me ever since I saw her smile.

“I know I shouldn’t and I know she deserves someone better than me, but I don’t think I can live without her. I need her…”

He swallows but I don’t let him speak. I need to tell him…to tell someone before I die.

“I didn’t plan it, any of it, but I know it’s real and what fucking luck I have that she’s marrying someone else.”

I snarl as a tear rolls down my face and I dry my cheek with my shoulder.

“All this island has been for me is a lifetime of bad fucking luck. I thought I could do it, to forget about her, maybe move on from here, countries away, but it’s too much to bear knowing she doesn’t want this.”

I take a breath, the silence weighing heavy.

“What are you going to do?”

I don’t answer him as he stares into my soul. He knows me better than anyone else so I know he can probably guess what my plan is.

“I’m going to take her.”

“Then what? Jesus, Raf, have you thought this through? Frances will kill you where you stand. We have no choice!” He takes a step towards me. “Don’t do it. If you love her, don’t put her in that position.”

“I can’t let him have her.”

“We will figure something out, I promise you. Let’s take some time to think about this. Maybe call Ezra and Nico––”

“We don’t have time, Dante! The wedding is tomorrow. Then he’s taking her to the US, and I’ll never see her again.”

I begin to retreat as he stares at me, his brain ticking away, trying to find a way to reason with me.

“Don’t get in my way,” I warn.

“It’s fucking suicide!” He gestures at nothing, the desperation clear in his voice to get me to see his view.

“Good thing I don’t believe in God.”

Checking my phone has become a new tic within the last eight hours. Erhan never responded to my text and now I’m wondering if he’s going to leave me alone in this. I barely got any sleep last night, thinking about whether I should visit her or not. I told her I would, but I never showed up. Instead, I spent the night obsessing over conjuring up different scenarios of how this would go.

The hot shower helped to relieve some of the tension in my shoulders, but it’s not my muscles that ache, it’s the damn toxic thing in my chest. I want it out. I want to reach in there and remove it like I do for those lost souls.

I stare at myself in the mirror, at the dark circles surrounding my eyes and my hair mimicking the mess inside my head. The noise inside the house adds to the fucking chaos as the preparations for the wedding begin. The bile churns in my stomach, knowing what I must do.

I check my watch.

One hour .

Sighing, I gather what’s left of my sanity and promise myself to keep it together. I ignore everything happening around the house and make my way to the church, heavily armed.

People might believe that war is about determining who is right. They’re all wrong.

It only means they’re dead and you’re not.