Page 66 of The Bonventi War
"Fuck it," I mutter, sinking onto the couch. I swipe to unlock the tablet and pull up the security feed.
The gallery is dark, the main floor empty. I click through the cameras, searching the basement, the storage areas. Nothing. She's not there.
Finally, I click on the feed to her apartment, half-expecting to find it empty too, but the living room light is on.
The breath freezes in my lungs as I see what's waiting there.
A canvas stands in the center of the room, positioned directly facing the camera. There's just one word painted on it in bold black letters:
Sorry.
My heart slams against my ribs. Sorry? Sorry for what? For the things she said? Or—for something she's going to do?
I lean closer to the screen, scanning the rest of the room for any sign of her. Nothing. Just that single message staring back at me.
I cycle through the cameras again, going back to the basement.
Wait a minute. It's not dark because the lights are off. It's dark because someone covered the camera.
The anger that's been simmering since I left the gallery rises again, but it's different now. Layered with concern. With fear.
I can't believe she would do that. Totally shut me out. After everything, she's never done that before.
"What are you doing, Raven?" I whisper to the screen. "What the fuck are you thinking?"
Frustration gets the better of me, and I toss the tablet across the room.
I need to sleep. I need to try and clear my head.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll figure out what to do. How to protect her without controlling her. How to keep her safe without driving her away. How to be the man she needs, not the monster she fears.
I'll take on the Russians, Raven's father, and my own demons all at once if I have to. And I refuse to lose any of those battles. Especially not the one for her.
As I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, one thought circles in my mind:
I'm the one who should be apologizing.
But apologies aren't my style.
I'll show her what we have—or I'll die trying.
Sleep comes fast, and I'm thankful for it. Because little do I know, security alarms are about to throw my life into fucking chaos.
29
RAVEN
"Shit, shit, shit!" I slam the brush down, splattering red paint across the drafting table. The forgery isn't working. Or rather, I'm not working. My hands won't stop shaking.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Gio's face. The way his expression hardened when he realized what I was doing. The flash of betrayal in his eyes before the anger took over.
I don't even know if I meant the words in the moment, but now, when I go over things in my head, they feel hollow.
I grab a rag and furiously wipe at the paint on my hands, but it's stubborn. Permanent. Like the mess I've made of everything.
"You need to focus, Ravenna." My father's voice pierces my nerves. "We don't have time for your crisis of conscience."
I glare at him across the basement studio. He's hunched like a vulture over his own canvas. Some of the bruises on his face have begun to yellow at the edges.
