Page 64 of King of Obsession

I slip through the sliding door, drawing my gun with my silencer on. These two represent what I could have had. I don’t know why I react so strongly when it comes to them. It’s not their fault—it was mine when I thought I could taste the forbidden fruit and once would be enough. I sealed my fate long ago, not now.

“Drop the gun,” Chiara says from my side in a haughty tone, her expression hard.

Life is truly not fair getting killed by a newbie.Whatever.

It dangles from my finger, then falls on the bed.

Turning to face them, I eye both of their guns pointed at me.

“I have to give you this round. I still have three bullets on you,” I taunt, wanting to be unapologetically myself.

A bullet slices through the air, hitting my arm. Numb to my core, my body doesn’t even register the impact. Seeing the blood run down my arm, it shows that not even my death can I pick to my liking.

I wanted to leave this world physically flawless. That is not possible anymore, but again I let Enzo fuck and defile me. So, what difference would it make? It’s not as if my maker will overlook my sins because of my unblemished skin and virginity, which are both ruined.

“There will be no more fucking rounds. I’d rather kill you.”

A hiss parts my lips, holding on my arm. Fuck, getting shot hurts—isn’t that ironic.

“Firecracker, we promised Enzo she’d be alive.”

At his name, the color drains from my face. Knowing Enzo, he planned all this, and I can’t stop myself from feeling pride. The Syndicate may think they’re the kings of the jungle, but Enzo is the fucking jungle and allows the others to live in it.

I can’t return. Not after what I did. Not after I shattered us. Not after knowing what will wait for me. I want to remember our love, those precious days to be unsullied just like in my memories.

“Kill me now,” I plead, but their faces remain stoic.

I taunt Chiara, calling her a brat, but she sees through me as well.

“I made my point clear.” She gets in my face. “You owe me two bullets, and if I hear you’re even in the vicinity of Boston, I will deliver them.”

I turn to Cato. “Give me an honorable death. I fucking deserve it.”

“No,” he says, giving a sign with his hand. Two guards appear out of nowhere. Approaching me, they corner me, and the battle dies inside me. One ties my hands and ankles, the other flicks a syringe in front of my eyes.

“Sweet dreams, because by the time you wake up, you’ll be in hell.”

I know. That’s why I’d rather be dead, but I guess it’s time to atone.

I yank at my ties, knowing Cato’s words to be true, but the sedative knocks me out.

Death is the only certainty. Enzo told me that. His father was a wise man. I just hope it happens swiftly.

***

My head throbs with a headache and my throat is so dry that even swallowing hurts as I slowly wake up.

Looking around, I see I am in a basement, surrounded by cement walls. A light flickers above my head, the only source of light. A metal door is the only way out, but it’s not as if I could escape. Metal cuffs wrap around my ankles and wrists, pinning me to the chair. My wound pulses and my heart pounds, knowing my life will just get worse than I thought possible.

My life has been a string of ironies.

Ironic to be at the mercy of the man you love.

Ironic even more to fall at the hand of the man you fell for.

Even more ironic that the man I couldn’t kill, will be the one to kill me.

The irony to top all ironies is that I smile, refusing to break down. Let him remember the woman he loved, so at least we’ll have that regret in common.

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