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I watch his hackles immediately rise. I’m too far gone to care though. Too lost to the chaos begging to be unleashed. I’m tired of trying to contain it and waiting for the perfect moment. I’m ready to unleash it and take out anyone and everyone that gets in my way. Right the fuck now.
He grabs the duffle bag out of my hand and tosses it to the ground behind him. The rest of the guys stay silent.
“You don’t even know where you’re going. You have no plan. No intel. And what? What the fuck is that gonna accomplish.”
I ignore the logic behind his statement, getting straight to the heart of the issue. “I sent a message,” I answer in a clipped tone, turning back to the closet and pulling out another bag. “Romano responded.” His hand wraps around the bag in my hands, trying to pull it from me again. I cling tighter to it. “It’s my move now.”
“This isn’t a fucking game, Scar.”
I scoff at him. Scar, is it? He must be pissed the fuck off at me. Too bad for him the feeling is mutual. “Grow up, Luca,” I sneer back at him, all of my pent up rage and frustration being taken out on him. I know in some part of my brain that I’m fucking up again. But like always, it doesn’t stop me. “Everything is a game. Life is a fucking game. If you think differently, you haven’t been paying attention to the world we live in.”
He wraps his hand arounds my bicep and tightens, still refusing to let go of the bag with his other hand. His eyes burn with all of the unsaid words he can hardly wait to spew out at me. Somehow, I think he’d rather it be my throat his hand is tightening around. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. The way he narrows his eyes at me only makes it hotter.
Not enough to lessen my rage, not enough to stifle my need for something he can’t provide for me right now. Something he’s actively stopping me from getting. If he thought demands were going to get him his way, I have to wonder if he even knows me. I’m never going to be a good listener. Just not in my blood. Not anymore. Must have been what bled out of me on that office floor all those years ago.
“So this is all just a game to you?” he snaps at me.
I raise my brows and tilt my head to study him, shocked he’s really going there right now of all times. Of course he would make this about our relationship again. I may not have the best track record, but I didn’t hide anything from them this time. Starting to wish I had. Fuck him. He wants to be like that, then fine. “Maybe you didn’t hear me,” I spit out in my iciest tone, keeping my gaze level. “Everything is a fucking game.”
He shakes my arm before slamming me up against a wall, crowding into my space as his anger grows even more potent. It should terrify me, his touch should burn me, his mere presence should overwhelm me. It doesn’t. It electrifies me. Calls to all of the fucked up bits of my soul to come out to play. Makes me want to push him further. Fight harder until I’m the victor. We both grip the bag still tightly between us, an all but forgotten tug of war as we battle each other.
“We’re all just pawns to you then? Move where you want us, use us while we’re useful, and then discard us when we aren’t? Just clear the board at your will?”
I smirk up at him, not even an ounce of trepidation as I step into the waves of violence wafting off of him. I know for a fact, I like his brand of destruction. Love it even. Maybe Luca is the one in need of a reality check. From where I’m standing, he has a few things to learn. Like not to take everything so goddamn personally. I get up on my tippy toes and whisper in his ear, “I never said we were playing chess.”
He doesn’t ease his grip on my arm, but he stares at me with calculating eyes. “What game are you playing here, Scar?” I grit my teeth at the use of my name again.
I shuck his hand away from me and he releases me easily enough, but none of his anger fades as he refuses to drop the bag. That’s fine. “Whether you like it or not, Luca,” I emphasize his name more than necessary before continuing, “everything really is a game. Life is a messy, fucked up, deadly game. One that can cut you, make you whole, only to break you again. There are obstacles and enemies you never saw coming. Allies you wouldn’t have ever known to ask for.” My voice betrays me as I get choked up over the allies that I failed. The ones I never would have expected to make such an impact on me. The ones I didn’t plan for. The ones who paid the ultimate price for my miscalculation, for my misstep.
I harden my voice again. “But every little step you take is another move on a bigger board. Every decision has a chain reaction. If you want to come out on top, want to win, then you need to make your moves carefully. Anticipate your opponent's moves and prepare for every possibility. It’s all just a fucking game.”
My voice drops to a mournful whisper. “A game of death.” I pause, clearing my throat. “A game of revenge. A game of survival. Of peace, family, love.” I shake my head and finally rip the bag from his hand as he stares at me in shock. “It’s all about what you’re playing for.”
Some of his anger phases out, but he still crowds into me more. His arms go on either side of my head on the wall behind me as he pens me in. “And just what are you playing for then, Letty?” There’s a test in his question. One that pisses me off even as I can feel his anger ebbing away.
It’s Letty now. I stop myself from riling him back up, even though this asshole deserves it. I know what I need to do today and if I need to play nice and wait until he isn’t looking, then fuck it. I will. Instead, I smile at him like he’s being simple, because well, he is. “Oh, Bossman. I have five boyfriends, haven’t you realized I’m firmly team why choose?” I walk my fingers up his chest, feeling his heart race there. It makes my own start to beat faster. “I will go up against and take out every single opponent we have. I will outmaneuver everyone and everything that gets in the way of what I want. Whatever I want. Because everything may be a game, but I am a fucking winner.”
He pushes his body into mine and I can feel him hardening in his pants. It sets my blood on fire. I always said Luca and I getting together would be explosive, time and time again we come together, just to prove how fucking right I was. “And just how do you plan on outmaneuvering me, little Letty?”
I laugh, a soft genuine one that surprises me with how much anger and grief still pumps through my veins. “You? I don’t plan on outmaneuvering you. I plan on moving under you.”
“Don’t do that,” Declan whispers, drawing my attention to the others still watching the show around us. I bite my tongue, holding back any response and fighting to hold my mask in place.
“Don’t try and distract us and yourself from what you’re feeling and planning,” he continues. I still don’t say anything. Too scared as soon as I open my mouth they will all hear the lie on my lips.
Declan doesn't stop pushing though. He never does. Guess I should have expected that. I didn’t stop to think about how much opposition I would be facing over this. “I can see the wheels spinning in that pretty little head of yours. First chance you get, you’re taking off to unleash your monster.”
I crack my neck, pulling the bag tighter against my body.
It’s moments like this that I truly worry that maybe no one understands what goes through my head. What I really need. I wish that I could crawl back into bed. That Luca could wrap his hand around my throat and fuck me into submission until I forgot all about the horrors I woke up to.
But I can’t.
The dead bodies are stacking up and I’ve finally hit my fucking limit.
This one was personal. Too close to home.
It was only a few months ago that I compared Romano to a fighter that got into the ring with nothing but raw strength and tenacity. No skill, no technique, no plan. Just striking blindly repeatedly and hoping to land something that left a mark.
