Page 31 of The Price of Mercy

Enzo raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. “You’re a terrible liar, Julian.”

Julian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “It was a mistake,” he said, his voice rising despite his efforts to keep it steady. “A moment of… of anger. That’s all it was. It didn’t mean anything.”

Enzo’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he took a step closer. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? That it didn’t mean anything?”

Julian took a step back, his heart racing. “It’s the truth.”

“No,” Enzo said, his voice low and dangerous. “It’s not.” He closed the distance between them in two strides, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over Julian.

Julian’s back hit the counter, trapping him in place, but he refused to look away. He couldn’t. Not when Enzo’s eyes were locked on his, burning with an intensity that made his chest ache.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” Enzo said, his voice rough. “But don’t lie to me. I know what I felt. And I know you felt it too.”

Julian’s breath caught, his mind racing. He wanted to deny it, to push Enzo away and pretend none of this was happening. But the truth was, he couldn’t. Because Enzo was right. He had felt it. And it terrified him.

“This… this can’t happen,” Julian said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re a criminal, Enzo. You’re dangerous. You’re…”

“What?” Enzo interrupted; his voice sharp. “A monster? Is that what you were going to say?”

Julian flinched, but he didn’t deny it. “You’re not someone I can… I can’t…”

Enzo’s expression softened, just for a moment, before he leaned in, his voice low and steady. “You can’t keep running from me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Julian’s chest tightened, his heart pounding as Enzo’s words sank in. He wanted to argue, to push back, but the fight had drained out of him. He was tired. So tired. And the way Enzo was looking at him, like he was the only thing that mattered, made it impossible to think straight.

Enzo reached out, his hand brushing against Julian’s cheek, his touch achingly gentle. Julian’s breath hitched, his eyes closing as he leaned into the touch despite himself. It was too much. Too overwhelming. But he couldn’t pull away.

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Enzo said, his voice soft, almost fragile, as if the words themselves might shatter the fragile space between them. His eyes, dark and intense, held Julian’s with a quiet desperation. “Not yet. But don’t shut me out. Don’t pretend this isn’t real.”

Julian’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening as he opened his eyes, his gaze locking with Enzo’s. For a moment, they just stood there, the air between them thick with unspoken words and the weight of everything they hadn’t dared to say. The tension crackled like a live wire, every nerve in Julian’s body humming with anticipation, with fear, with something he couldn’t quite name.

And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Enzo leaned in. His lips brushed against Julian’s, so softly it was barely a kiss at all. It was a whisper, a question, a plea; nothing like the hard, desperate clash of before. This was tender, achingly so, as if Enzo were afraid Julian might break under the weight of it.

His hands came up to cradle Julian’s face, his touch feather light, his thumbs brushing gently over the curve of Julian’s cheekbones. The warmth of his palms against Julian’s skin sent a shiver down his spine, and for a moment, Julian forgot how to breathe.

Julian’s hands trembled as they fisted in the fabric of Enzo’s shirt, his knuckles brushing against the solid warmth of Enzo’s chest. His mind screamed at him to pull away, to stop this before it went too far before he lost himself completely. But his heart… his heart was already lost. It had been for a while, though he’d been too afraid to admit it. And now, with Enzo’s lips so soft against his, with the warmth of his body so close, Julian couldn’t find the strength to resist.

He kissed him back, tentatively at first, his lips moving against Enzo’s with a quiet uncertainty. But as Enzo’s hands slid into his hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands, Julian felt something inside him give way. His grip on Enzo’s shirt tightened, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if they were both afraid to rush this moment, to break the fragile spell that had settled over them.

Enzo’s breath hitched, a soft, almost imperceptible sound that sent a jolt of electricity through Julian’s veins. His hands slid down to Julian’s waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. Julian could feel the rapid thud of Enzo’s heart against his own, the way his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. It was overwhelming, the way Enzo’s touch seemed to ignite every nerve in Julian’s body, the way his kiss felt like both a question and an answer, a promise and a plea.

When Enzo finally pulled back, it was only far enough to rest his forehead against Julian’s, his breath warm against Julian’s lips. His eyes searched Julian’s, dark and intense, filled with a vulnerability that made Julian’s chest ache.

“I can’t do this,” Julian still whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t.”

Enzo’s thumb brushed against his cheek; his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to. Not yet. But you will.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Julian standing there, his heart in pieces and his mind in chaos. Because no matter how much he fought it, Julian knew Enzo was right. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Chapter 22

Misery

Julian had perfected the art of avoidance. It had been weeks since that night; the kiss he refused to acknowledge, the one that had left his heart pounding long after he’d retreated to his room. He convinced himself it was nothing, that it had been a lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness. And if Enzo noticed his sudden need for distance, he said nothing.

But Julian wasn’t expecting tonight.

The moment he stepped into the hallway leading to Enzo’s office, he felt it. The air was thick with something sharp, something raw. The guards stationed outside stood stiffly, their usual impassive expressions marred by unease. Julian barely had to ask before one of them muttered, "Marco’s dead."

---