Page 268 of The Devil's Thorn
“You kept me in the dark,” I said, voice hollow. “You shut me out and vanished and let me unravel alone.”
“Because if I told you everything,” he breathed, “I knew I’d lose you.”
“Youalreadydid.”
Silence fell between us. The gun was still pressed to his chest. His hand was still wrapped around mine. And my whole body was shaking. Not with fear. But with the weight of what I didn’t want to believe.
The wind curled around us like it knew something I didn’t. The gun was still between us.
My arm was stiff, jaw clenched so tight I could barely speak. But my thoughts—God, they wouldn’t stop screaming.
Every memory. Every kiss. Every word I wanted to believe, tangled up with the ones I heard on that goddamn USB. And he just stood there. Still. Steady. Eyes locked on mine like he wasdaringme to see him.
Not the man I built in my head. Not the one I wanted him to be. But the man who was standing here now. Unmoving. Unarmed. Unafraid.
He could’ve grabbed the gun. He could’ve lied. But instead…
“I’m not behind your family’s death,” he said, voice low. Steady. “And neither is anyone with my name. Not my father. Not the Bratva. Not my men.”
My pulse thudded in my ears.
“The voice on that recording was edited. Stitched together. Meant to look real, to sound real. But it wasn’t.” His grip on my hand tightened around the gun. “You’re being played, Isabella. Just like I was once.”
I didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. He stepped closer—slowly—and I didn’t stop him.
“And I’m not engaged.” His voice dropped even lower. “I never agreed to that contract. I didn’t sign it. I never intended to. You’re the only thing I’ve wanted since the second you slammed a door in my face and looked at me like you knew I’d burn.”
My throat clenched. I wanted—God, I wanted to believe him. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not just because he said it.
I pulled the gun back just a little. Not lowering it. Just… adjusting. My hand still trembling.
“You expect me to just believe that?” I breathed, eyes burning. “That everything I’ve heard—everything Isaw—was a lie?”
“No,” he said immediately. “I expect you to question it. Because that’s what keeps you alive in this world.”
“Then tell mewhy, Rafael. Why the voice said your name. Why Anna’s hiding. Why I was handed proof—proof—and you disappeared for five days like I didn’t exist.”
The flash of pain in his expression was quick—but I saw it.
“Because I was trying to protect you,” he said. “Because I didn’t know how to tell you that someone is using your past—and mine—as a weapon. That there are pieces moving you can’t see yet. And if you’d known too early, you would’ve walked right into it.”
“And now?”
“Now you already have.”
I looked at him. Really looked at him. Eyes dark, but open. Shoulders squared, but not rigid. He looked… tired. Worn. Frustrated. But not angry. Not scared. And not guilty.
But still— “I want to believe you,” I whispered. “But I can’t.”
“Then don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t believe me because you want to. Believe me when I prove it.”
I swallowed hard, my hands aching from how tightly I was holding the gun. “You better be telling the truth, Rafael.”
“I always have been.”
The gun still pressed to his chest. His hand still curled around mine. And I wanted—God, I wanted—to lower it. But I couldn’t. Because the moment I did, I didn’t know who I’d be anymore.
His words sat heavy in the space between us, thick with conviction. Not begging. Not trying to talk his way out of anything. Justtruth, laid bare like it didn’t terrify him to let me decide what came next.
