Page 66 of To Hell

Again.

I punch another fist into the wall, and another, and another, until I feel my knuckles crack, and I’m sure my blood is now mixing with the dry blood of some of the men that I killed in the hall trying to get to her.

I didn’t know they were coming for her at first, but as I started to run to her, the men circled around me. I didn’t bother waiting to pull the trigger and send the bastards to hell.

But again, I was late.

Like before.

This is my fucking fault. Again.

And it had to be in fucking public space. I’ve got the press outside my estate and cops wanting to ask me bloody fucking questions. The internet is going rogue with assumptions and stupid hashtags are flying around.

Some people think one of the men who killed Zoe’s father came after her. Conspiracy theories everywhere and in such a short fucking while it feels like people had their cameras and lights ready for the slightest catastrophe to break out.

I growl.

I’m seething, gritting at the glass wall now stained with my blood. I start to pace, needing something to rip apart. Myself perhaps.

This is my fault. I had pushed her too hard, knowing I had enemies. Like all those years ago, I pushed her again, and I wasn’t close enough to protect her.

“Do you plan to punch the wall all day, or will you come around to talk about how to get her back?” Dante leans against the desk, his face a mask of cold determination.

“How did they even know she would be there?”

His eyes narrow. “This entire thing screams Benedetto, and don’t tell me you don’t see it. He recognized her from the Met Gala. Her pictures were everywhere. And he remembers what she meant for you, star boy. He's using her as bait to get to you.”

I should have fucking known.

I growl and spin to punch the wall again.

“I have to get her back,” I pace to my desk and snatch the whiskey bottle from its handle. “But we can't risk exposing our identities.”

Dante stands tall. “Do I look like I care? To hell with my identity. I will kill him myself if I have to.”

I swig the whiskey, letting some of it spill on my knuckles so I can feel the sting, “You can't go there and expect to kill him without consequences. We have to think this through.”

“Think it through while Zoe is in his hands?” He boils over, “Every fucking second we waste, she’s in more danger. This isn't just about revenge. This is about saving her.” He snatches the whiskey bottle from me and flings it.

I shake my head at his suggestion. I want to save her more than anyone else, but if this is Benedetto and he is using her as bait, we must think things through carefully.

My father is a sly bastard. I have to make sure I don’t fall right into his trap.

“If we go guns blazing, it could ruin everything we've built,” I shake my head harder as the thought of exposing ourselves whirrs in my head. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?” Dante shoves me so fucking hard, and I stumble, almost heading for the ground, “You're more worried about your secrets than Zoe's life?” He is coming after me, but I beeline and go behind my desk instead.

I can take him up on what he is offering, but I might end up killing him.

“Do you even love her like you claim?”

That is not even up for questioning.

“If I loved a woman half the way you claim to care for her, I would be barreling through the world to get her back,” he slams the desk.

He is right. And it’s the first thing I wanted to do. I wanted to march down to Benedetto and empty every bullet of every one of my guns into his body. But to what end? Still, I can't keep lying to Zoe.

I sink into my chair behind my desk, the fight draining from me in cold sweat. “You're right. She is the most important thing to me.”

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