12. Ezra

Chapter twelve

Ezra

I slam my feet against the accelerator, my teeth set in a firm grip as I try to block the images crashing into my head.

“She’s okay…they're okay,” I breathe, shakily, trying to gaslight myself, but even I know something is wrong. Silvia hasn’t been picking up my calls. None of the guards I’d assigned to keep watch over her are picking up either. That rarely happens, and it could only mean one thing.

My heart slams into my guts as I take a corner. One more turn and I’ll be at the house.

I’d known something like this would happen. It’s why I doubled up the security, but the closer I get, the more my heart wrenches. Matteo should never have dealt with them. He deserved what I did to him.

The breeze slaps my face harshly as I take the last corner, and my house comes into view. Everything looks okay from here. I increase my speed until I get to the white gates. Ignoring the guards' greeting as the gates open, I race inside. My heart slams against my throat as I hit the brakes and jump out of the car.

There are only two things on my mind as I dash through the doors, and my heart yanks out of my chest when I see a guard's lifeless body sprawled out by the entrance.

Fuck.

My feet are quaky, but I manage immense speed, ascending the stairs two at a time as I race to my wife’s room.

“Silvia!” I yell, hoping for a response, but there's none. I get to the landing and take the turn that leads to her room.

I yell again, hoping with every fiber of my being that there’s a response. “Silvia! Vittoria!”

None of them respond. I still hold on to the faintest glint of hope even when guards' dead bodies litter the whole passage. Breathless and scared, I finally reach her door, but my hope is shattered when I see blood flowing from inside the room.

My lips quiver as I bring shaky hands to press the knob before entering. Life is sucked out of me at the sight before me.

There on the floor, beside the bed, lay my wife and daughter wrapped in each other’s arms, lifeless and pale. Blood is dripping from the holes in the center of their heads and making a heart-wrenching trail towards my feet. My baby’s teddy lies in the pool of blood, just below her limp hands.

My feet wobble, but I manage to make my way to them, kneeling and bringing them in my arms as my heart breaks into pieces all over again. I let out a loud scream of agony at their lifeless eyes as anger and every negative emotion under the sun courses through me. My wife and daughter are gone…all because of my best friend.

He killed them.

My heart strikes through my chest as I wake up, panting, with a hand to my chest. Fuck. I can still feel everything from the dream. Or rather, the nightmare. The one that won’t stop haunting me.

My knees are weak, my hands are shaking, and the memory of their lifeless bodies is all I can see. My breathing is even more erratic as I scramble out of bed and wobble to the bathroom. I make a beeline for the cabinet and yank it open to grab my pills.

With shaky hands, I scatter them onto my palm and throw a couple into my mouth before bending to scoop water from the tap. When the pills are settled in my stomach, I raise my head to the mirror above the sink. The man who stares back at me is distraught, scared, and in pain.

Fuck .

I yank at my hair, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor.

Silvia was my wife, and Vittoria was my three-year-old daughter. They were innocent…undeserving of the life they lived…and the death they went through.

Clenching my fist, I restrain the tears that burn my eyes. Fifteen years ago, life looked different. I was different.

I think of Vittoria's soft black hair smelling like strawberries, and every night, as she slept, I would bury my nose in her thick waves. I can still picture her cheeks, flushed and full whenever she smiled, her gummy teeth showing in that familiar, heartwarming way.

In a world full of chaos and bloodshed, my daughter was the only person I truly loved. She was my light in a life full of shadows.

The marriage that birthed such a sweet girl, however, wasn’t of love. My father set it all up, like he did with everything in my life.

He needed an heir, someone to carry on the Marino name long after we were both gone. I didn’t question it. That’s how things worked in our world—you didn’t get to choose. So, I didn’t…I didn’t choose Silvia.

Still, she changed me. We became more friends than lovers, and somehow, over time, I grew to care for the mother of my child.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the familiar knot tighten in my chest. Grief has a way of fucking me up.

I can still recall Vittoria’s emerald irises lighting up when I read her bedtime stories. Those evenings, she looked at me like I was her world. She stared at me like I was her hero. I wasn’t? I was, in fact, the villain. But to her, I was good, and that was more than enough for me.

Then, I lost them both.

That day ripped away everything I thought I had. I’ve never really recovered. Maybe I never will.

After burying them, I shut down. Locked away that part of myself? love, family. It’s easier that way. Love is nothing but a weakness, leaving you vulnerable.

Slowly, I unclasp my palms. The drugs seem to have kicked in, as everything in my body feels stable.

I pick myself up from the floor and head back to my room. As I stare at the clock on the vanity that reads 1:54 a.m., one person comes to mind. Raven.

She’s trouble, I know, and I should stay away. Yet the memory of her touch lingers even though it’s been a good four days since that night— the night I stormed the bait location to ambush Tomasso’s side and came home with nothing but a cut to show for it.

It was another dead end. Somehow, Tomasso’s people didn’t take the bait. I, however, grazed my shoulder on a long scrap of metal on our way back from the location.

My hand grazes the stitches healing nicely on my shoulder.

I walk to my window, taking in the view of the large compound underneath the dark sky. My mind is suddenly racing with thoughts of Raven.

I need to get a grip .

The closer I let her get to me, the harder it would be to shut her out later. I recognize this feeling, and it is all shades of danger. I only want her for her body, but even that means giving her power over me.

I should have declined her gimmicks in the stitch room, but I couldn’t. The thought of having her clouded my mind and momentarily displaced all rational thoughts. I’d thought if I had her again, the unnecessary excitement my dick portrays at the sight or thought of her would vanish, but it’s the exact opposite. It has been the opposite for the past four days since I fucked her in the stitch room.

It won’t be for long though. I’ve experienced too many losses to know that letting emotions cloud logic will lead you nowhere. That has been my mantra, and I don’t intend to change it now.

Logic over emotions. Always.