Page 52 of Lord of Obsession

Time for me to change the odds.

My first bullet takes the back of a skull, spraying bone and gray matter across expensive gear. The second catches Nicolas's shoulder as he spins toward the new threat, his return fire going wide. Concrete chips explode beside my head as I dive for cover behind a support pillar.

"Greco." Nicolas spits my name like a curse. "Should have known you'd show up to protect your pet project."

More shadows move in the darkness—at least four more hostiles using parked cars ascover. Rafael has gone to ground somewhere to my left, but I catch the glint of his eyes in the dim emergency lighting. A whole conversation passes in that split-second glance: positioning, angles of attack, the dance of violence we both learned in childhood.

"You're in my territory." I pitch my voice to carry, letting them track the sound while I ease toward a better position. "Hunting what's mine. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

A laugh echoes off concrete walls. "Notice? We counted on it. Why do you think we chose tonight?" Metal scrapes against stone as Nicolas shifts position. "With you distracted here, our other teams are hitting the north docks. Your father's shipment won't make it to port."

The revelation should sting and send me racing to protect my family interests to maintain the balance of power in this city. Instead, something darker unfurls in my chest as I catch movement behind a luxury SUV.

"You think I care aboutcargo?" The words emerge in a growl as I put two rounds through the vehicle's window. A body thuds against the concrete, accompanied by cursing in rapid-fire Sicilian. "You think drugshipments and protection rackets matter compared to?—"

The rest is lost in an explosion of gunfire as they make their play. Muzzle flashes transform the garage into a strobe-lit hellscape. I roll beneath a pickup truck, coming up on the other side in time to catch a soldier trying to flank my position. The knife slides between his ribs with practiced ease, angled up to pierce his heart.

More shots ring out from Rafael's position: one, two, three in rapid succession. Each finds its mark with surgical precision. The sound sends electricity down my spine despite the chaos. Even now, even in the middle of an ambush, his execution is perfect.

"You're both dead anyway." Nicolas's voice carries strain now, pain and fury mixing as he clutches his wounded shoulder. "The old alliances are done?—"

The bullet catches him just below the left eye, cutting off whatever grand speech he had planned. I emerge from cover as his body hits the ground, blood pooling beneath his skull in an ever-widening circle. The garage falls silent except for the storm's distant rumble and the dying gurgle of punctured lungs.

Rafael straightens from his firing stance, his weapon still trained on shadows that no longer hold threats. His suit is spattered with wet crimson, his carefully maintained composure cracked to reveal the killer beneath. Beautiful in his violence, perfect in his brutality.

Mine.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice carries that edge I love, the one that betrays his true nature. "I had it under control."

I step over Nicolas's corpse, moving closer despite the weapon still humming with deadly potential in Rafael's hands. "You really think I'd let anyone else break what's mine?"

His finger tightens on the trigger, but we both know he won't fire. Can't fire. Not with the electricity arcing between us, the shared pulse of violence and recognition that's drawn us together since that first night in the library.

"I'm not yours to break." But the words lack conviction, undermined by how his body responds to my proximity.

"No?" I reach for him, my fingers finding his throat above the blood-spattered collar. His pulse races beneath my touch, hungry and vital. "Then why do you shake when I?—"

Movement flickers in my peripheral vision. A shadow rising from behind a concrete pillar, weapon already swinging up to target center mass. I spin toward the threat, but I'm too slow, too distracted by Rafael's heat against my palm.

The impact feels like a sledgehammer to my chest, knocking me back a step. Another round catches my shoulder, spinning me half around. Pain blazes white-hot through my body as I return fire, my shots going wide as darkness creeps at the edges of my vision.

The last thing I see before my consciousness fades is Rafael's face transforming from controlled distance to raw fury. His gun screams once, twice, three times. The shadow collapses in a spray of arterial red.

Then the concrete rushes up to meet me, and everything goes black.

Pain dragsme back to consciousness, each heartbeat sending fresh agony through my chest and shoulder. The first breath feels like swallowing broken glass. The second tells me at least one rib is cracked, maybe worse.Iron fills my mouth—blood, but whether from internal damage or split lips, I can't tell.

Voices drift through the haze, an argument carrying on overhead while I assess the damage. Years of training kick in despite the fog: catalog injuries, identify threats, and maintain situational awareness even through the red mist of pain.

"He needs a hospital." Rafael's voice, closer than expected. Something warm presses against my chest—his hands, I realize, applying pressure to the worst of the bleeding. "This isn't something you can patch up in a safehouse with a first aid kit."

Marco's response comes sharp with tension. "You know we can't. Every ER in the city reports gunshot wounds. Your uncle's people will be watching."

"Fuck my uncle." The curse carries that pure Sicilian bite I love, the one that betrays his true nature. "And fuck family politics. He's losing too much blood. He’ll bleed out."

I force my eyes open, my vision swimming before it focuses on Rafael's face above me. His perfect suit is ruined, soaked through with my blood where he kneels beside me. The sight sends satisfaction curling throughmy chest despite the pain. Even dying, I've managed to strip away another piece of his carefully maintained image.

"Don't..." Speaking hurts, but I manage it anyway. "Don't pretend you care now."

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