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I want her to hate me just as much as I do myself.
“That’s because the rich daddy you thought you were hooking up with is a fucking serial killer,” she says as if it’s the simplest of answers. “It’s not normal, and it’s not your fault!”
I bite my bottom lip. She just doesn’t understand. She still thinks I’m a victim in this. “You know, when I returned and I saw Dmitri for the first time, I wanted to blame this on him because he was The Lion’s son. It made it an easy out to hate someone else for the shit I got myself into.” I want her to hate me, to see the ugliness inside and agree that I’m a lost cause.
“In all fairness, Dmitri is an asshole at the best of times. But he’s loyal as fuck for only a certain few. He’ll fight for you, Elanee, until the very end. So you need to do the same. Don’t make his efforts in vain.”
My bottom lip begins to tremble, and I hate the small kernel of emotion that fractures through. “I’ve hurt him so much.” My voice cracks. I can only hear the pain in his words echoing and the disgusted expression on his face.
“You’ve given him the greatest gift by fighting for this long and making it back. To both of us. One bit at a time, we’ll go through the motions together.”
When I finally look up at her, there isn’t pity in her gaze. She doesn’t see me as some broken thing. It’s the same look she would give me as a child if I fell over and scraped my knee.
“We’re in this together, remember,” Layla urges and raises her pinkie to mine. It pulls at my chest. It’d always been so childish, and yet I cling to its gesture as my salvation. I loop my finger around hers.
“I’ll try my hardest to keep fighting,” I whisper, and my voice cracks.
Deep down, I no longer believe that myself.
50
DMITRI
Ifollow Luca down a staircase hidden away from the main entertainment rooms and into what appears to be a bar room with leather lounging, a pool table, and a fully stocked bar in the back. Waiting are five white-masked men, each with a colored gem distinguishing them from one another—The hounds.
Anyone who gathers enough intel on Luca Armani or is unfortunate to have crossfire with him would no doubt be introduced to the hounds, notoriously known for being personal messengers when Luca didn’t care to deal with someone himself. I’ve always been curious about their system and identities since knowledge is power, but no matter how good my hacker, Claus, is, he’s never been able to grasp onto anything tangible.
I should feel threatened, or at the very least intimidated, as they warily watch me, but I don’t. If anything it’s a comfort to know that Luca’s most lethal form of security is here.
“The hounds will be with us on the day you meet with The Lion,” Luca says matter-of-factly as he leads me through the bar room and toward another door.
“I thought we agreed only I would be finishing this,” I grit out as I make a point to look at each of them, trying to uncover some kind of tell sign as to who they might be. I don’t find anything.
“I said you could fight him. I never agreed that I would fully depend on you to finish the job.” Luca says as one of the hounds opens the door. It’s a room that could be used for multiple purposes such as interrogating, torture, and, as it’s set now, an almost empty room. The few pieces of furniture it has, including a table and couch, have been pushed to the side to create space.
Luca shrugs his suit jacket off as he adds. “And it just so happens that we both have steam to blow off.”
I don’t know what he has issues with, but I wonder if it’s because a certain Ara Barone isn’t here currently. He’s most likely sulking because she’s made herself busy elsewhere, which is most likely why Lorenzo isn’t anywhere to be seen. Luca often has his second in charge escorting her nowadays.
“Are you sure you’re up for the fight without an audience this time?” I challenge, referring to our previous ring match. He made a point to show off in front of Ara, and he’d beaten me… barely. And I’d never openly admit that was the first time my body locked up on me, and I was acutely aware that something was wrong. The next day, I received my diagnosis.
I found it ironic that the moment I stepped into the ring with Luca, who embodies the Grim Reaper, those many months ago, I was humbled by my fall. To only discover afterward, as Layla took me to the hospital to check up on my concussion after I blacked out, that far worse was happening than a blow to the head. That I was, in fact, dying.
His blue eyes hit mine, and they possess a lethal edge as I remove my own shirt. My emotions are running on a high and although I don’t necessarily like Luca, I respect that he understands my need for an outlet. Because right now, I’m in a chaotic rage that will burn me out before I even come head-to-head with The Lion.
“Be careful not to bite the hand that feeds you,” Luca warns as he rolls up his dress shirt sleeves. I can sense the hounds behind us, watching us predatorily through the open door.
“You’re not the hand that feeds me,” I reply, flexing my hands back and forth, coaxing my adrenaline. The Lion was known for fighting with his bare hands, and often, others chose champions on their behalf. Most likely, all of the hounds offered to fight on Luca’s behalf, not that he needed anyone to do so. But this was my bloody revenge for the taking.
“Seems like you don’t have any loyalty. Not even to the woman you’re doing all of this for,” he goads.
The mention of Elanee snaps the tiny tether of restraint keeping my shit together. I lunge for him, aiming for his face. The moment I do, he steps back with a predatory smirk and dodges my punch.
He sidesteps and punches me in the stomach. I take it, keeling over when the wind knocks out of my lungs and savoring the pain.
“If you want me to pummel you so easily, I can. But you’re not worthy to challenge The Lion in three days if that’s the case,” Luca says as he steps away. I grit my teeth, furious with his sharp observation. Because he’s right, I want to take his hits. I want to feel the pain in the hope that it’ll obliterate these turbulent thoughts and emotions I don’t know what to do with. I don’t even know how to begin to manage the betrayal I feel so deeply.
I stagger back as I hold my stomach. Nothing is broken this time. “Don’t pretend like you know me.”
