Page 143 of King of Obsession

When he pulled away, I tagged the smolder in his eyes.

My eyes flicked to the set clench to his jaw, radiating with a steely purpose forged with a ruthless affection.

He also showed possessiveness for his loved ones, which was the one quality that had drawn me to him in the first place.

‘Be safe,’ I whispered, my hand reaching out to grasp his for one last moment.

‘I will,’ he said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before he released and turned to leave.

I let him go, the door closing with a soft click behind him, and then I was alone.

The room’s silence pressed in on me, the bed suddenly too big, too empty.

I curled up under the blankets, his scent still lingering on the pillow beside me and tried to hold on to the promise he had made.

He would come back. He always did. But that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

Chapter 30

ALESSIO

The rumble of vehicles shattered the predawn calm.

I bolted upright on Cleo’s couch, eyes so tired, gritty under my lids.

Sleep had eluded me, my thoughts in a constant battle, my mind churning with worry. I’d struggled to stay rational and not give in to the impulse to rush out into the night and save Cleo.

Not even a shower at 2 a.m. had helped settle me down. I was jacked up, missing her, on the edge of losing my shit.

I mulled the idea of storming the neighboring property alone, my paranoia ratcheting at the thought of what the Contis and Franco, in particular, were doing to her.

Mayhem, murder, and malice twisted in my heart as I waited, my only thread to sanity being the thought of Lorenzo on his way.

Now, a voice called. The sound carried from down the drive at the gate. My spirit leaped in recognition.

I pushed up to my feet and powered to the door.

Tugging on my boots, I opened the cabin door and jogged toward Cleo’s front yard.

The sight that greeted me lifted my fucked up spirit.

With a jerk at the silhouettes inside the lead vehicle, I unlocked the entrance and shoved it open.

Tires crunched on the gravel as three SUVs rolled past me one by one, headlights cutting through the inky predawn darkness.

I prowled to the cars from which a dozen men were exiting.

I first tagged Lorenzo, my older brother, my mentor, my freakin’ ride-or-die.

‘Fratello?’

I pulled him in for a silent, extended hug.

‘Calma, piccolo leone,’ he murmured into my hair, using our childhood nickname for me.

Little Lion.

Not so little now.

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