Page 226 of The Devil's Thorn
Rafael didn’t blink. “No.” He paused. “She speaks for herself.”
Lorenzo stared at him for a moment, then gave a short nod—more to himself than anyone else. And just before he turned to go, he said quietly, “Be careful, Romanov. You’re letting something dangerous close to your side.”
Rafael didn’t respond. And Lorenzo didn’t wait for one. He disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by velvet and smoke and whispers.
And I stood there, my heart pounding, the bracelet suddenly heavy against my skin. Like it remembered something even if I didn’t.
And I wasn’t sure… If I wanted to know.
The moment Lorenzo disappeared into the sea of silk suits and glittering chandeliers, it felt like I could finally take a breath again. But I didn’t.
Because that breath sat frozen in my chest, weighted by something I couldn’t name. Something old. Ancient, even. Like abruise I’d been born withand never questioned until now.
My mother’s bracelet felt heavier than it ever had. I turned my wrist subtly, the rose catching the light again, but now it felt like it carried a thousand eyes—each one watching me, remembering things I’d never seen. Things I wasn’t supposed to know.
The way Lorenzo had looked at it. Touched it. Not with affection. But with familiarity. And that pause. That question. Thatflickerin his eyes… He didn’t know. But something in himdid.
Rafael hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t moved from my side. But I could feel him watching me. His heat. His calm. His silence.
My pulse beat too fast, too loud, echoing in my head like footsteps down a long hallway I wasn’t ready to walk.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Rafael said finally, his voice low, steady.
I didn’t look at him. My eyes stayed on the space where Lorenzo had stood. “No,” I said. “You don’t.”
I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept mine forward. My throat was tight, but not from tears. From fire.
He waited a second, then said quietly, “You’re wondering who he is.”
I turned toward him slowly, searching his face—those eyes that always saw more than they let on, the lines around his mouth carved by restraint rather than time.
“You said he was dangerous,” I murmured. “You said he was a piece on the board.”
“I did.”
“But you never told me why.”
He didn’t answer right away. The silence between us was like silk stretched taut—elegant but ready to tear.
Rafael’s gaze stayed on me, unwavering. “Because some truths are better understood when you’re ready to ask the right questions.”
I stared at him, that answer carving a line straight through my chest. He wasn’t lying. But he wasn’t telling me everything either.
“You think I’m not ready?”
“I think you’re exactly where you need to be,” he said. “But once a door opens, it doesn’t close.”
I swallowed hard, his words sinking beneath my ribs like stones dropped into water. I hated that I understood what he meant.
“Then I hope whatever’s behind that door is worth the burn,” I said.
His lips twitched, just slightly. Not a smile. Not exactly. “You already know it is.”
I looked away before I could say something else. Something that would feel too much like admitting.
Because despite the ache in my chest and the heat on my skin, I wasn’t scared of what Lorenzo saw when he looked at me. I was scared of why it mattered.
We stood there for a beat longer, the world around us still buzzing—music, laughter, whispers floating like smoke—but none of it touched me.
