Page 113 of Devious Kingpin
Old ghosts came knocking. My throat squeezed. Images haunted.
“Technically it was Priest,” I thought I heard Basilio’s voice say; I couldn’t tell. My pulse thundered in my eardrums so loud, drowning out the rest of their conversation.
I blinked my eyes, the burning liquified and blurred my vision. My ears buzzed.
He lied to me. He betrayed me.
My chest cracked. The pressure on my heart built and an ache so deep it was hard to breathe spread through me. The rawness of it made it feel like I was bleeding out.
My gaze lowered and I expected to see my crimson blood on the pristine white marble beneath my feet. Yet, there was nothing. The white marble hid the black heart.
A hollowness formed in my chest. That ache grew dull and expanded over me, leaving a dark hole in my chest.
As a tear rolled down my cheek, I steeled my spine, shoving the pain somewhere deep. Glancing around, I spotted one of Dante’s easy-to-reach weapon spots. In a daze, I walked to it, then brushed my fingerprint over the code.
The safe opened and I studied its contents. Gun. Swiss knife. A blade.
I reached for the gun, but images of a dead Dante didn’t sit well with me, and I didn’t trust myself not to shoot him. Not right now.
My fingers wrapped around the blade.
As I made my way back to Dante’s office, blood roared in my ears. Fury surged through my veins. And red crept through my vision.
I let the anger take over. My heart pounded, shattering with each passing beat.
I shoved the door open and Dante’s eyes snapped my way.
“Let’s have a conversation, husband,” I said softly, calmly even. But emotion scratched at my throat and burned in my eyes.
Dante watched me with those eyes, the colors of midnight skies.
I grasped for the anger. For the rage that he deserved. I wanted to scream. I wanted to lash out. Instead, I let the coldness wash over me and steal some of the pain away.
Otherwise, I feared it’d tear me apart.
Dante had set me free, only to rip my heart out. Everything with him had been a lie.
I never took my eyes off him, letting the walls build higher and higher, and this time, nobody would penetrate them.
My husband didn’t care about me. He took what he wanted, had even resorted to drugging me. We’d been married for weeks, and he had had plenty of chances to come clean. He didn’t.
“Hang up, Dante,” I said calmly. “Or I’ll blow up this city’s network and leave it in the dark as I leave town.”
“Fuck.” Multiple voices came through the line. “Juliette—”
Dante ended the call, cutting off his brother.
Silence, heavy and damning, crept through the room like a venomous snake. Dante stood up from his spot, circled his desk and leaned against it, casually slipping his hands into pockets. His eyes that usually burned with heat were now cold and hard. He ran his gaze over my face, then to my hand clutching the knife.
His eyes came back up, holding my stare.
“Let me explain, Wildling.” His voice was so fragile, as though all of him might break. But I couldn’t feel sorry for him. I wouldn’t. He brokeme. He shatteredmyheart to pieces.
Anger, red hot, seared through me, and instantly the coldness was gone, leaving in its wake burning lava. Before I even realized I’d moved, I held the blade to my husband’s throat, the sharp piece grazing his skin.
“Shut the fuck up before I shove this knife up your ass,” I hissed, my voice shaking with anger. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move. “Or down your throat. And don’t think I won’t. In fact, I’ll enjoy it very much.”
I remained still, anger urging me to slice his throat. To make him pay for making a fool out of me. For betraying me. For lying to me. And worst of all, for hurting me and making me believe any of it was real.
