Page 26 of Reckoning

Ben doesn’t notice at first, he’s too fixated on the massive screen in front of us but when he does he tenses, turning to ask if I’m okay.

“I’m fine.” I lie.

He tuts, shaking his head and he pulls me into a hug. I can smell his aftershave, I can smell that light, sporty scent and it’s so different from the one that haunts my nights. I shut my eyes, wishing that this felt more, that this was more. God, if I could just love Ben, if I could feel for him what he feels for me then maybe that would help heal this horrific pain inside me. It would fill that void.

“You’re okay.” He murmurs, stroking my back and I can hear it, the tone, the soothing way he’s comforting me.

He’s never felt like a threat, I know he would die to protect me, and what more could someone ask for? What more could someone want in a partner? He’s strong, he’s capable, he’s good looking even with the scar that covers one part of his face, so why isn’t that enough?

I pull away, blinking, staring at his face. His grey gaze meets mine and maybe it’s the alcohol that makes me do it, maybe it’s because I really am fucked up in the head, but I lean forward, I close the distance between us, kissing him slowly as if I’m testing this moment, expecting some sort of fireworks to go off, some cataclysmic explosion that will change everything I feel inside, that will fix everything.

He tenses, his hands rest of my shoulders and though he’s kissing me back, I can feel he’s not really committing to this.

Gently, he pushes me away, shaking his head a tiny bit. “Sofia,” He murmurs.

“I, I shouldn’t have…” I begin, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. God, I’ve made this so much worse now. I’m such a fucking idiot.

“It’s okay.” He says in that understanding tone of his.

“No, it’s not.” I snap back. “None of it is okay.”

His hands grip me tighter, he draws in a deep breath. “I love you, Sofia, I always have but I know you don’t love me. Not like that. And it’s okay...”

I sob more, I cry both from the shame of this moment and the fact that his words are true. I don’t love him, I will never love him, and it hurts so much when I know that if I did, perhaps I’d find some peace, perhaps I’d find some happiness.

“…I understand it.” He adds, as if that makes it better, because I sure as hell don’t. “I’m not what you need. I never have been. I’ve accepted it. I can’t change how I feel for you, I can’t alter it, but I want to be a part of your life, even if that means I’ll only ever be a friend.”

I want to rage, I want to scream, perhaps it would be easier if he was angry with me, perhaps it would be easier if right now he called me out for my behaviour, but he doesn’t, he’s just so damned considerate, so reasonable.

I palm my face with my hands and he hugs me again, he comforts me as if I’m not the biggest arsehole in the world, and I bury myself in his chest, too embarrassed to look at him.

Koen

I’m on edge. Agitated. Roman told me to stay clear, that it was none of my business, like she means nothing to me. Like he believes sheisnothing to me.

Yet it was my men guarding her, my men ensuring that even now, she is safe.

Except someone fucked up. Someone got close, too close. And Sofia almost paid the price for that ineptitude.

I like to think I’m a rational man, a logical man. Violence is delicate beast to control. As is fear. You create too much, you have anarchy. You don’t create enough and you get this; failure, incompetence.

In my line of business, neither of those outcomes are acceptable.

Neither of those outcomes result in anything but death.

As I walk down the concrete steps, I can hear the noise, the bustle of a thousand people, all living their lives underground. I bought this house for one particular reason. One feature. It matches almost like a jigsaw to the tunnels beneath Verona. We had this hall added, these steps connecting the subterranean fortress to my now home.

Oh, I knew we could have moved everyone above ground, could have moved everyone into a military style complex but then we’d be visible, countable, trackable. This way no one knows the strength we have. No one understands the power we have. No one realises that I’ve turned myself from a hypothetical ruler of the underworld into a real one.

While Verona’s elite walk in the sun, with their polished pavements and designer bullshit, we exist here, in the darkness, surrounded by our own treasure, protected. Un-fucking-touchable.

In the main hall I can see a bunch of them, off duty, drinking and gambling. I don’t give a shit what they do with their time off, as long as they’re not endangering us they can do as they like, but when my eyes spot the four men I’m looking for I make a beeline, crossing the room, hauling them off their chairs.

No one speaks. No one dares argue with me. Down here my word is law.

I pull my gun, point it right at the first man’s temple. To his credit he doesn’t try to argue, he doesn’t try to justify why he failed. He just meets my gaze like he already knew he was a dead man walking.

I pull the trigger, blasting his brains out. Then I take aim, and pull again.

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