Page 43 of Volatile Obsessions

“Where the hell are you going? We need to clean this shit up.”

“Which is exactly why I need to change out of this.” I pointed to my suit.

“Right.” He glancing down at his own suit. “I suppose I should too. When you get back, though, we need to talk.”

My head jerked back. “About?”

“Liza,” he deadpanned.

Her name immobilized me.

I stood there like a mindless idiot, staring at the man that, at one point in time was like a brother to me, like he’d just uttered something in a foreign language or grown five heads.

Holding his stare, I clenched and unclenched my fists. “What about her?”

“She called me.”

“She what?!”

Vic nodded and ambled over to his charcoal gray Rover parked in the first spot, leaning up against the grill. “You heard me, brother. She. Called. Me.”

Fuck.

“What did she want?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“She’s looking for you,” he explained, confirming my suspicions.

“And what did you tell her?” I hedged.

“That I haven’t spoken to you since…well, you know.”

Of course I knew.

How could I forget that?

Flashes of that day, the day I lost my fucking shit and sent my life in a downward spiral, flickered viciously in my mind. I wouldn’t be standing here today if that shit show hadn’t gone down.

But it did.

It was very real, and despite the fact it’d been years since then, it still hurt like hell. It hurt because every painful thing that followed, every person I loved and lost, happened because of me.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on, Rome, ‘cause, I haven’t heard from Liza since before my parents and I left London, so why the fuck is she calling me all these years later, looking for you no less? How does she even have my number?”

“I don’t know,” I gritted out, willing any and every thought having to do with Liza and her vindictive ass out of my mind.

“Bull-fucking-shit, bro. That’s bullshit and you know it! Liza doesn’t just do things without a reason. There’s always a reason, a method to her madness, so what the hell did you do now?”

He was right, unfortunately. One-hundred percent right. If my ex did something, there was a story behind it, whether it was true or not. And now, I was going to have to tell him about what drove me out London, because if I didn’t, there’s a chance she might call him again…and she’d tell him without hesitation if he asked.

Better he hear it from my mouth than her false, twisted version.

“I killed Leo,” I said softly, like it were the most natural thing in the world, trudging the short distance between us to post up beside him.

“You what?!” he hollered.

“I. Killed. Leo.” I enunciated, meeting his incredulous stare. “Returned him the fucking favor for what he did to my mum. What he did to Sio.”

Just mentioning my family constricted my chest as though someone were wringing me like a sodden towel.

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