Page 92 of Worship
“No. No, you don’t get to walk away. Uh-uh.” he states.
His face is a torrent of rage and sadness.
Tears blur my eyes, and I grip the front of my shirt.
“Then give me what I want.”
Please God, let him say yes. I’ll never survive the loss of Luca King.
“Say it.” His eyes are locked to mine, his hands fisted.
“Lose,” I say without hesitation, my chin lifting slightly as I will my body to feel the confidence I should have.
Luca shakes his head and says, “What the fuck does that mean?” but I can tell he understands completely.
I take another step back, needing the space to say everything I need.
“You wouldn’t walk away, put us above everything.”
He starts to interrupt, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “So, Luca…you want me back? Then you have to lose.”
I walk to him, grab his face, and pull it to mine. “I don’t want Shelby’s fucking life—I want you to set her free.” His eyes narrow, and he pushes me from him, turning to walk away, but I keep going. “And I want you out.”
He swings his head back to me, understanding what I mean.
“I see the way the guys listen to you. They wait for you to direct them, even your brothers. I see the throne being carefully constructed, but my King won’t sit in it because I won’t come second place to anyone, including to the Chicago Mob.” Luca claps his hands together harshly as he paces, clearly pissed at my ultimatums. “You walk away, let everyone else handle it. You’re done, or we’re done.”
I don’t breathe because I can’t. I know it’s an impossible choice for him, but no more impossible than for him to expect me to forget my worth.
Luca stares at me, his face unreadable. Then he walks out of my bedroom and straight out of my apartment.
The door slams, and I feel like it takes all my air with it. I collapse to my knees on the floor, and a silent scream followed by my cries echo through the walls. This was everything I knew it would be.
IHATE HER.
Where the fuck did Gretchen ever get the idea that she controlled this shit?No way, baby.She doesn’t possess the power to dictate what I do or the decisions I make. If she loved me, she’d listen and understand what I need, or just do what the fuck she’s told. Goddammit.When the fuck has she ever been that woman?I know better the moment I think it.
My thoughts bring on more rage, andI punch the wall outside her door, happy with the pain it brings, reminding me that I feel. I hit it again harder, over and over, bringing my fist into the hard surface until I feel a pop and the wetness of the blood begins to cover my knuckles.
“Hey, man, what the hell?”
Her stupid neighbor catches my attention as I rear back to take another strike at the concrete. I spin around, taking a step toward him, and grab his throat. Surfer dude’s hands shoot up, batting at my arms while I squeeze. I shouldn’t hurt him—he didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of attention—but he’s here, and I’m unhinged.
I squeeze a little harder, listening to him sputter and choke.
“I told you to mind your own fucking business. Don’t check on her. Don’t speak to her. Stay in your fucking apartment. Am I understood?”
My voice is full of the rage I feel.
I toss him back in through the door and watch him fall to his back and try and scramble backward a few feet. His hands are up defensively, and there’s fear in his eyes.What am I doing? I’m ready to kill this guy because I fucked up.
“Fuck!” I yell, stepping back and slamming his door shut.
My feet carry me down the hall hastily, and I press the button to the elevators, needing to escape. The minute I step inside, I lose it, smacking my hands against the walls. Guttural roars rip from my throat. I barely wait for the doors to open before I all but sprint out of her building.
The moment I hit the streets, everything inside my body calls for me to turn around and go back inside. I couldn’t wait to escape, but now it’s like I’ve reached the end of my tether and I’m being yanked back. I should go back and beg for her to forgive me, promise her that I will never make any of the same mistakes.
But she doesn’t need my words; she wants actions I can’t provide. She’ll be better off. Gretchen needs to forget I ever existed.
