Page 87 of Deadly Wrath

Alessio is leaning against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, looking more pissed off than I’ve seen him. Infront of him sit grizzly Zeno and the hulk Nathan, both look at me, then back to Alessio. And without a single word spoken, they stand and brush past me like the room’s on fire and they need out.

What the actual hell is going on?

“You called me, Warden?” I ask, aiming for casual but probably landing somewhere between sassy and please don’t kill me.

Alessio’s eyes meet mine, something unreadable swimming in those icy blues. He doesn’t answer immediately; he walks behind his desk, sits down, and gestures.

“Sit,” he orders.

My body moves before my brain catches up, dropping into the seat Zeno just left. I wince a little, my ass is still sore, but the seat’s warm, which is weirdly comforting.

Then... silence.

We stare at each other. And stare. Andstare.It’s like we’re in some weird showdown, and Irefuseto be the first to blink.

Finally, I blurt, “Did you call me in here to stare at me?”

His hand drags down his face likeI’mthe exhausting one here. “No,” he says,waving a hand between us. “Whatever this was... well, it’s done. I played my part, but I don’t want you in my house.”

I blink. “Wait, what?”

“Pack your things,” he adds. His voice is so cold that it makes my skin prickle. “Nathan will take you wherever you need to go.”

My brain short-circuits. “W-what?” The words stutter out, sounding messy and confused because that’s how I feel. “You want me to leave? Just like that?”

“Yes.” He reaches into a drawer, pulls out an envelope, and slides it across the desk like he’s finalizing a business transaction, not the person who rode him like a show pony last night. “This should get you as far away from me as possible.” His fingers tap it before pulling back like he can’t stand to touch it any longer.

I stare at the bulky envelope. Then at him. Audacity doesn’t even cover it.

His face is stone-cold. No trace of the man who couldn’t keep his hands off me last night. That person is gone, replaced by this cold, distant stranger.

And my heart feels like it just caved in.

“Is this because I snuck out last night?” My voice cracks mid-sentence, but I don’t care. “Seriously? You’re doing all this over something that stupid?”

His chair scrapes against the floor as he suddenly stands. My pulse jumps as he rounds the desk, and then he’s right there.His arms are planted on either arm of my chair, trapping me in.Shit.He’s close enough that I can feel his breath on my face, and it’s surprisingly warm for how ice-cold he’s being.

“It has nothing to do with that,” he growls. “And everything to do with who the fuck you are. I kept you safe from Antonio, but now, I want you out of my fucking life.”

Clover always said to read the room.Well, message received loud and clear. Painfully clear.

I feelstupid.Stupid for thinking this was more. For believing, even for a second, that maybe he cared.God,how did I let myself fall for this... forhim?Tears prick at my eyes, burning, but I swallow them down.No way in hell am I crying in front of this ass-wad.He doesn’t deserve my tears.

Alessio pushes back, his arms dropping as he steps away. He walks behind his desk but doesn’t sit; he stands there like a statue, looking at me.

I push to my feet, my chair scraping loudly, and just when my back turns to him, he speaks.

“Take the money.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” I snap, but my hand snatches the envelope anyway, just to hurl it at his face.Bills explode across his desk like it’s a stripper stage, but swap the singles for hundreds.

“I’m not some whore you can pay off when you’re done using,” I bite out. My voice is shaking with anger and heartbreak. I hate that it hurts this much.

I don’t stay to see his reaction. I turn and storm out, slamming the door so hard that the walls rattle.

Upstairs feels like a blur. I stop in the middle of my room, his room, and realize nothing’s mine. I came here with nothing. I’m leaving with nothing, except my phone. I’ll need it for now, at least.

Pulling the dress off, I swap it for jeans, wincing when the fabric pulls at my still-sore ass.Screw him.I tug on a plain white t-shirt, an oversized hoodie on top, and lace up my sneakers. I slide my phone into my pants.Just in case he tries to take that too.

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