by C. Hallman
Wringing my hands through my hair, I sit on one of the fucking flimsy chairs. This safe house is no good.
“We need to kill him. We need to kill all of them. With John gone, I don’t know what’s going to happen with the deal I made with the FBI.” I was okay with Enzo getting years and years in prison, so I could take his spot. But now, thinking about him being ten feet below, it will be better anyway. He deserves it.
“Where is Eli?” I ask, lighting a cigarette.
“Right here, asshole,” Eli’s voice sounds as he steps into the small cabin. His eye is slightly black, and his lip is swollen. Bitch had done a number on him. The biggest question is why the fuck did he let her out.
“Looks like the bitch got the better of you.” I smile, blowing smoke out of my mouth. “I didn’t think you would let a girl hit you.”
“That cunt kicked me in the balls.” His eyes never leave mine. “If it makes you feel better, I fucked her up a little too.”
“It does, but my cock up her ass would have made me feel even better.”
“That’s what I was thinking too,” he smirks, “that’s kind of why I let her out. I figured she would be too weak to fight. I was fucking wrong.” Eli was always one of the honest kinds. That’s why I didn’t think he would side with me at first, but he’s proven himself to be loyal to me, and I trust him.
“I know I fucked up. I just wanted to rough her up a bit. I wanted to fuck with her head and get my dick wet. You know most of us men haven’t had any company in a while…” I get what he is saying, but that’s no excuse.
“You fucking disobeyed my orders. John’s dead now. Amara is gone, probably back with Enzo, and you stupid fucks are responsible for it.”
“We didn’t—” Miller tries to say, but I reach out, wrapping my hand around his throat.
“You didn’t what? It would be best if you tread lightly with your next words because I’m about five seconds away from plunging my knife into your heart,” I say, blowing smoke into his face.
“It was my fault. I got her out of the hole. I didn’t intend for her to sucker punch me and run for her life,” Eli confesses. I narrow my eyes at him, releasing Miller with a shove.
“Then you’ll be the one to get her back. You’ll be the one to bring the bitch to me so I can bring the King to his fucking knees,” I spit. I despise the man.
For years, I’ve been his right-hand man, never receiving a thank you for half the shit I’ve done. Instead, I was always beaten into the ground.
He had everything while I had nothing. That’s going to stop now. I’m tired of being the fucking dirt beneath his feet. I’ll take every last thing from him. His home and empire have already been destroyed. But we both know that’s not what made him breathe. No, it’s the girl.
She’s gotten into the dark part of his mind and shined light on it. I’ll take her back, destroy him for who he is, and then kill both of them.
There will be a winner and a loser. Enzo King will lose…
7
Amara
Four days have passed since I last uttered a word to Jared or Enzo. I refuse to talk to the very people who ripped my world apart. Though Jared has been very nice to me, I still can’t accept him being related to me.
I’ve spent most of the time in this room, the bedroom I’m supposed to be sharing with Enzo. I make him sleep on the couch, too afraid I might slit his throat at night while he’s sleeping.
I’ve only been going downstairs when I’m hungry. After being constantly hungry in that godforsaken hole, I don’t miss a single opportunity to eat. Being hungry only reminds me of being a prisoner, so I shove food into my face every opportunity I get.
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I flip through the pages of one of the books Jared brought me. I wish I could get lost in the story like I used to, but my mind feels like it’s headquarters for a beehive, the constant buzzing crippling my thoughts.
All I’ve done for the past four days is think. Think about all the fucked up shit in my life. I feel like I’m being pulled in five different directions.
Most of my mind is consumed with mourning my father. Even that is split in two. I mourn the man I knew, the loving father who was a part of my life. And then I mourn the man I last saw, dressed in an expensive suit, in my childhood home where he held me prisoner. Maybe I shouldn’t mourn that man, but I do. Because I can’t mourn one without the other.
I still don’t understand why he did the things he did, and I probably never will, but I can’t love him any less. I can’t hate the man who has always been there for me.
When I’m not grieving my father, I think about Jared and Enzo. The thought of Jared being my half-brother still feels odd. I grew up as an only child, never knowing what it feels like to have a sibling, and I definitely didn’t imagine gaining one in this abnormal way.
Jared has been very nice to me, even before he learned about our connection. I can’t lie and say that I don’t like him, or the idea of having him as my brother, but I’m still uncertain if I’ll be able to accept him just yet.
Finally, there is Enzo, who is the most frustrating person to think of. He betrayed me. I trusted him, and he betrayed me—twice. He believed Mack over me. That cut me deeper than I would like to admit. It cut me deep enough to leave a permanent scar, and right now, that scar is still red and angry.
Right next to it is a wide-open gash. He killed my father in front of me. He killed him, knowing how much that would hurt me, how much pain he would cause me. I don’t know if I can let that pain go, or if it will forever overshadow anything I feel for Enzo.
Part of me holds on to the thought of loving him. No matter how much I want to hate him, I can’t just forget what I felt for him—what I still feel for him.
Lost in thought, I don’t hear anyone approaching. The door flies open suddenly, and a little shriek escapes my lips.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Enzo says. He can’t be that sorry since he still closes the door behind him and steps further into the room. I notice him limping slightly, and I briefly wonder about his injuries.
I want to ask him, but not enough to actually do it. I’d rather be alone.
“Out,” I growl, shutting the book in my lap.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m done giving you space.”
“I’m not done needing space.” Narrowing my eyes at him, I jump off the bed.
Stripping off my shirt and shorts, I stand before him in my bra and panties. Keeping my eyes trained on his chest, I start to head into the bathroom.
Of course, Enzo steps into my way, cutting off the path.
“Amara, we should talk. Talk about everything.” His voice sounds off. So off that I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Move,” I order, not letting him scare me.
“Please, just listen to me. You can’t avoid me forever.”
Looking up, my eyes snap to his. Then I realize why he sounds so off. It’s the same reason his facial expression is new to me.
Both his voice and his eyes are full of emotions. Something Enzo normally hides well.
But why is he in pain? He is the cause of all of this. He killed someone I loved, the man who raised me. So why is Enzo acting like he is the one grieving? Could he actually feel remorse over this? Or is he simply mourning the fact that he lost me?
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“I love you, Amara.”
“If you really loved me, you would have protected me from the agony of losing my father, not caused it. The pain I see in your eyes is for yourself. For once in your life, you did something you might actually regret. You did something that broke me and ripped me from you.”
Removing my bra and panties, I watch them fall to the floor, and his eyes grow wide with desire. The man I’ve loved is standing before me… I’m bare to him, not only physically. I can see the love and affection we share reflecting back to me in his eyes. Yet, I know I will never be enough.
; “We can fix this, Amara. We can be whole.” His voice is pleading with me, like a man ready to fall on his knees. But there is no saving us after he shoved us headfirst into this world of blood. Once something is this broken, it will never be as strong as it once was.
Stepping past him, I walk into the bathroom, trying to close the door behind me, but Enzo pushes through. Ignoring him, I turn the faucet on to scolding hot and jump into the shower.
“I will not give you up, Amara. You knew my need for revenge was important. You knew if it came down to it, I would have to kill him. Look at what he did to you. Look at what he did to us—to me,” Enzo practically yells while taking off his clothes.
I turn away from him, facing the tiled wall while starting to wash my hair. For a moment, he is quiet, and all I hear is the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. Then, he’s slipping into the shower behind me.
Turning around, I smack him across the face. Hard. It takes him by surprise, but not me. I’ve been dreaming about hurting him, letting him feel my anger again, and again. To beat him to the bloody mess he has left my heart in.
His eyes grow wide for a moment in pure shock, and then he’s on me, his lips devouring mine. His arms engulf me, pulling me into his chest before he picks me up and slams my back against the shower wall.
I want to shove him away, want to scream at him to go to hell and to never touch me again.
But I don’t. Not because I forgive him. Not because I still love him.
No. Because I know this is the only way to make me stop hurting, even if it’s just for a little bit.
Hot water sprays down on us as I rake my nails down his back, making him bleed in the most sensual way. My teeth bite into his lips until I taste blood, and I revel in it.
“Hurt me, Amara. Make me feel whatever it is you want me to feel. I’m bared to you. I know I hurt you, I know I fucked up, but it had to be done. It had to happen—and while you hate me, you’ll move on and learn to deal with it. Death is the only thing promised in this life.”
“I do hate you,” I growl, pulling at his hair as he kisses my neck. My body tingles in unimaginable ways, washing away all the anger and sadness. I would never admit it out loud, but I need him. Right now, I need him like I need water to drink or the air to breathe.
“Then show me. Show me how much you hate me,” he whispers. His teeth graze my ear as his cock presses against my hot core.
With his hands wrapped under my ass, he presses into me. His cock promises me a million ways to forget, and I want to forget. I want to so badly. Letting the walls fall, I reach up, gripping his face so I can stare into a pair of warm eyes.
“Fuck me,” I barely whisper onto his lips as if it’s a secret between the two of us. Pressing his forehead against mine, we gaze into each other’s eyes as he slides into me to the hilt.
One hand slips from my ass to my head to grip my hair, pulling it taut against my scalp. It burns, but in the most delicious way. In a way where pain and pleasure mix together. A way where they become one.
My head tips back against the tile as he pierces my skin with his teeth. His cock slipping in and out at a scary pace, and just when I’m afraid I’m going to die from pleasure, I spiral into a deep, deep darkness. My body hums as he continues his assault on my body.
“I fucking love you, I love this sweet cunt, and I love those deep brown eyes as they smile at me when you come,” he growls into my skin. My tits rub against his chest, pushing me into overdrive. I want more, so much more.
“More,” I beg, pulling away from him. “I want more.”
Shutting the water off, I slip away from his touch and watch his face form into confusion.
“Make me forget,” I say quietly as I slip from the shower and step over to the sink. Placing my hands on the countertop, I lean over it and look into the huge mirror in front of me.
Enzo steps behind me. In the mirror’s reflection, I catch the excitement gleaming in his eyes.
“I’ll take you, I’ll own you. I’ll make you whole again, piccolo…” His voice is losing its gentleness, and I want it. I want him to be rough with me. I want the hate and madness between the two of us to sweep away everything else. I want to feel anger in every caress, kiss, and bite. Sliding in behind me, he centers himself at my entrance.
“You better hold on, baby.” It’s the only warning he gives before he pushes into me with sheer force. My nipples scrape across the countertop with every push into my body, and my eyes lock with his in the mirror as my teeth bite my lip to stifle my moans.
“Come on, now,” he murmurs against my skin before his tongue glides against my back. With his grip on my hips harder than ever, he pumps inside of me without mercy. So hard that I’m on the verge of pain.
“Fuck, your cunt is so tight. I’ve been thinking about fucking you every night, jerking off to the thought of your pussy wrapped around my cock. To the image of my dick ramming into your tight asshole.”
His dirty words push me over the edge, and my first orgasm in a month washes over me like a rain shower over a desert after a drought. I feel like I’m coming apart, his thrusts splitting me in two. Endless pleasure takes over my body, wrecking me like a storm, leaving me behind in pure chaos.
“Ahhhh….” I mewl over and over again. My nails scratching over the countertop, and my thighs banging against the cabinet beneath.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he growls between clenched teeth as a muscle in his jaw thrums to life. I know he was holding back, and I hate it. I want him to let loose. All of him. I want him to hurt me. I don’t want anything but pure animalistic sex between us.
“Fuck me, Enzo. Fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like you hate me.” Raising his eyebrow at me, a smile twitches on his lips. My blood sings, excitement building to new heights.
Next thing I know, he’s flipping me around and sitting me on the countertop. In one swift move, he is back inside of me, impaling me on his dick.
“Take it. All of it. Own me,” he whispers as his cockhead pushes against my back wall. My muscles clamp around him, and my body tingles with pulses of pleasure. My eyes drift closed, the darkness only intensifying the feeling.
“Open your eyes,” he growls, wrapping his hand around my throat to force my face upward.
Hesitantly, I open them just to watch his beautiful body on the verge of its own pleasure. His muscles are taut, and the dips and valleys of his stomach clench together as he shoves into me once more.
A hiss escapes his lips as he grabs me hard, his seed filling me. His face contorts with pleasure, and his fingers dig into my skin with bruising force, like he is holding on for dear life, afraid I’ll slip away.
He stills deep inside of me, and I can feel his cock pulsing, unloading his cum. Warmth fills me before his iron grip loosens. He pulls out of me slowly, but I still wince. My insides are a mushy mess, as is my heart and mind.
As soon as the endorphins leave my brain, and I come down from the post-orgasmic bliss, dread finds me once more. Worse than that, I feel guilty, used, and like a traitor. Yes, I achieved my goal. Sex made me forget all the pain momentarily, gave me a few minutes of peace. But at what cost?
I betrayed my dead father. Slept with the enemy. I’m ashamed of myself, utterly ashamed.
Shoving against his chest, I push him away without looking at his face. I grab a towel and cover myself with it, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than ever.
“I can’t make you forget, but I can make you remember why you’re alive. I can make you heal. I can bring you to the crossroads, Amara, but you have to be the one to walk across.”
Shaking my head, I ignore what he is saying. I just need to get away from him right now.
“Run all you want, piccolo. Run wherever your little legs can carry you, but realize I will always come for you. I will always find you, and I will always claim you as mine.”
His words creep into my mind as I watch him reach for a towel and wrap it around himself. He leaves the bathroom
without another word.
The room spins, and I try to ignore the evidence of what we just did running down my inner thigh. When I get my legs to finally work properly again, I step back into the shower.
I sit in there until the water runs cold against my skin, and I still don’t know what to think. Not any closer to knowing what to say or how to feel. I want to hate Enzo, I want to see him drown in his own blood, but there is something more. It’s as if he anchors me to the ground. Keeps me sane enough to push through this mess, even if it is his fault.
A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Jared wants to talk to you,” Enzo says gruffly. My body instantly responds to him even when I don’t want it to. Quickly, I turn off the water and wrap myself up in a towel.
“Okay.” Pulling the bathroom door open, I step out, so I can get some clothes on.
I find Enzo standing at the end of the bed, his arms folded over his chest. A shirt and pair of sweatpants are waiting for me on the mattress. No panties or bra. Hmm… Just the way Enzo likes his women. Not that it really matters.
As I slip the towel from my body, I watch Enzo. I’m done letting him be the one in control. I’m done being afraid, and I’m tired of feeling caged.
“What happened in there doesn’t make us okay,” I say sternly.
His eyes twinkle with amusement, and a panty-dropping smirk forms on his face as I pull on the sweatpants.
“Right. So fucking you senseless won’t make things better, but it’ll get you to forget for a short time.” My eyes narrow at him. He knows I’ve used him as a way to let the pain go. He isn’t dumb, and I didn’t expect him to be. I just didn’t think he’d have me figured out this quickly.
“Yes, I used you to forget. Sue me. But, don’t think you have me figured out because you don’t,” I growl, looking him straight in the eyes. When I look at him, I see a man I loved... and a man capable of killing me, all wrapped up in one.
Taking a step forward into my space, his finger traces my bottom lip as if he were memorizing it.