Page 19 of Twisted Devotion

My head snaps up, and I meet Nicolas's eyes before I can stop myself. Really meet them for the first time tonight.

I don’t know what I expected—anger, smugness, or even cold indifference—but what I see makes me gasp softly.

He looks… hollow. There are dark circles under his eyes, faint but undeniable, as if sleep has been a distant memory for him. His face is drawn tight, his jaw tense, and though his expression remains controlled, there’s something underneath it. Something raw.

Sadness.

He blinks, and whatever vulnerability I thought I saw is gone, erased so quickly that I start to doubt it was ever there. Maybe I was just projecting my feelings onto him.

I drag my attention back to Marco, anger bubbling to the surface. “This is what you meant by ‘sacrifice and compromise’?” My voice trembles, but I don’t care. “You expect me to marry this—this tyrant? This arrogant, selfish, cold-blooded?—”

“Careful,” Nicolas cuts in, his voice like a whip cracking through the room. It’s sharp and commanding, sending a shiver down my spine.

But I refuse to back down. The anger burns too hot, and the words keep pouring out before I can stop them. “You’re a coward,” I snap, glaring at him. “A man who hides behind his power because he’s too scared to face the world without it. And I’m sure in the face of real danger, you scram and hide behind those armed men who follow you around.”

I can see the shift in him immediately. His eyes darken, his posture stiffens, and his lips press into a thin line. It’s the reaction I wanted—except it feels off, like I’ve pressed the wrong button.

Nicolas slams his hand on the table, the sharp crack echoing through the room like a gunshot. I flinch, instinctively leaning back. My chair scrapes against the floor. His eyes—darker than I’ve ever seen—burn with fury, his rage practically crackling in the air between us. I’ve neverfeltsuch intense anger radiating from anyone. My body reacts on its own, inching further away from him as my pulse pounds in my ears. He’s trembling, and for the first time, I realize how dangerous he truly is.

“Teach your sister some fucking manners, Marco,” he snarls, his voice low and lethal. “Or I’ll do it myself.”

A shiver races down my spine, goosebumps prickling my skin as the weight of his threat sinks in. His voice is like a blade, cutting through the air with deadly precision. It terrifies me. Yet, as the fear begins to ebb, something more confusing and unwelcome takes place—a spark of heat low in my stomach, a flicker of something I can’t explain in the pit of my being.

What the actual fuck? Disgust churns in my gut, but the sensation lingers no matter how much I want to ignore it.

Marco abruptly shoves his chair back, the screech of wood against the tile breaking the charged silence. “Aria. Outside. Now.”

His tone leaves no room for argument. Without waiting for a response, he stalks toward the hallway. My legs carry me after him on autopilot, my mind still reeling from everything that just happened. The hallway feels colder somehow, or maybe it’s just me shaking as I try to process it all. Marco stops and spins to face me, his expression a volatile mix of anger and desperation.

He grabs my hand, pulling me closer until I can feel the heat of his breath on my skin. “This is temporary,” he says, his voice low and steady. I can detect the bitterness, the salt in his breath. “Do you understand me? Temporary. We need this alliance, Aria. Whoever is behind the attack on your life won’t dare touch you under Nicolas’s protection.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off, his tone sharper than before.

“And while you’re with him,” Marco continues. “I need you to pay attention. Learn everything you can about him—his operations, his men, his weaknesses. Until I can get you out.”

“I haven’t even agreed to this, Marco.”

“There’s nothing to agree to, sister. I wasn’t fucking asking.”

I shake my head, heart pounding as I try to pull away. “This isn’t fair. You can’t ask me to?—”

“I can,” Marco cuts me off, his fingers digging into my arms like claws. “And I am. You owe me, Aria. After everything—after you abandoned me—you owe me this.”

Salt is sprinkled on a freshly reopened wound. His words hit like a slap to the face, sharp and unforgiving.

I swallow hard, my throat tightening as I fight the sting of his accusation. Marco doesn’t wait for a response. He releases me with a forceful push, straightens, and strides back into the room, leaving me reeling.

My skin burns where his grip left marks, and for a moment, I feel like I might collapse. I force myself to take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind inside me.

When I finally return to the room, both men look at me. Marco stands with his arms crossed, his expression grim and unyielding. Nicolas, seated now, seems to have regained his composure. His sharp eyes follow me, their intensity making my every movement feel scrutinized.

I straighten my shoulders, forcing my head high even as my insides twist with anger and fear. “Fine,” I say, the word leaving my lips like a stone dropped into silence. “When is this supposed to happen?” Nicolas smirks, but it’s hollow, his eyes devoid of humor. “Tomorrow.”

6

NICOLAS

The memories of the docks won’t let me rest.

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