Chapter 5

 "How... dare you..." Lokie's voice cracked.

A single tear traced a hot, stinging path down the corner of her eye, before she could stop it. She hated it immediately . She was supposed to be unbreakable. 

She had swallowed worse pain than this without flinching: the ropes biting into her wrists in the frozen blind spot of Suzuki’s secret room, the cold promise of death in Raman’s eyes. Those had been sharp, clean agonies she could endure. 

This was different. 

It sat heavier in her chest. Embarrassment burned through her, anger twisted inside her, and something else lingered beneath it that she refused to acknowledge.

fury that twisted like a knife in her gut, and something heavier she couldn’t even name. Her throat tightened until breathing hurt."

“You should be happy,” Enzo said, his voice low, dark, and edged with something dangerous that made the air feel thicker.

He held her gaze for a long, unbearable minute, eyes boring into hers like a warning carved in stone. “Stop.”

The single word landed like a slap.

Lokie spat on the floor, then dragged the back of her hand across her sweat-slicked face. Her skin was burning crimson, a violent mix of rage and humiliation that refused to cool. 

“You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do,” she snapped, her voice shaking with the force of it. “You… despicable, unnatural piece of shit.”

The words flew out in one furious breath, hanging heavy between them.

Silence crashed down. The room turned ice-cold, tension crackling like static before a storm. Neither of them looked away. Lokie’s fists clenched at her sides, every muscle coiled and ready. She would tear into him if he pushed her. She wanted him to push her.

A sharp knock at the door sliced through the standoff.

“Come in,” Enzo ordered, his voice echoing coldly off the walls.

The door swung open. Three guards stepped inside, each carrying two large pieces of luggage. They stopped in the center of the living room, the heavy bags thudding softly against the floor. The thick tension in the air hit them immediately—they shifted uncomfortably but kept their mouths shut, eyes fixed straight ahead.

“These are Ms. Lokie’s belongings,” Bryan said carefully.

Enzo’s gaze dropped to the six oversized boxes, then slowly lifted to Lokie. She rolled her eyes hard and looked away, jaw locked tight.

“Did you pack her entire house?” Enzo asked, disbelief sharpening his tone. “One or two bags couldn’t cover whatever she actually needs?”

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. She wasn’t staying forever. This was temporary—weeks at most, maybe a few months if things dragged. The thought of coping with her for a full year made his stomach turn.

“No, sir,” Bryan replied. “We only took what Alex said was important.”

Enzo’s brow furrowed. “And who the hell is Alex?”

“Her right-hand woman,” Bryan emphasized quietly.

Enzo’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles whitened. He drew in a slow, controlled breath, forcing his shoulders to relax. 

“Take them to the room next to mine. Let her unpack and settle in.” 

He didn’t spare Lokie another glance. He turned on his heel and strode into his own room, the door shutting behind him with a firm, final click.

Bryan and the guards moved quickly, carrying the luggage into the adjacent room without a word. Once everything was placed, they excused themselves and left.

Lokie scoffed, the anger still churning hot in her stomach like acid. “As if I would,” she muttered under her breath.

She stormed into the room they had assigned her and slammed the door so hard the walls rattled. The luggage got shoved aside carelessly. She was on edge, vibrating with agitation. When she got like this, nothing soothed her except striking back at whatever—or whoever—had shattered her peace.

That night, sleep never came.

Lokie paced, sang loudly off-key, and clattered around the room doing God knows what. The walls were paper-thin. Enzo could hear everything: her shallow, angry breaths, the sharp bangs as she moved in and out of the bathroom, the scrape of furniture, the low hum of whatever chaotic energy she was feeding.

He endured it, jaw tight, eyes burning from lack of rest. He had endured worse before her. He would endure this too. Lokie would not be the one who finally broke him.

Enzo stayed at his desk, earbuds jammed in, forcing himself through work until his eyes blurred. Only when he couldn’t push anymore did he shut his laptop and collapse into bed.

Morning arrived too soon.

Enzo stepped out of his room, dressed and ready for the day, but the scene that greeted him stopped him cold. His mouth fell open.

Clothes were scattered everywhere—dresses draped over chairs, shirts trailing across the floor like a chaotic path leading to the washroom. A sock hung from a lamp. The mess was alive, invasive, crawling into every corner.

His feet moved before his brain caught up. He followed the trail and found her.

Lokie sat perched on top of the washing machine, legs swinging slightly, humming a completely off-key tune that somehow didn’t bother her at all. Her eyes were glued to her phone, thumb scrolling lazily.

The sight grated on him like nails on a chalkboard. The mess clawed at his skin, every misplaced item a fresh irritation. He couldn’t stand it.

He cleared his throat loudly.

Lokie’s head lifted slowly. Their eyes met.

A deliberate, taunting smile curved her lips. Her eyes sparkled with something sharp and dangerous, aimed straight at him.

“Good morning, husband,” she said brightly, voice dripping with fake sweetness, like a delighted wife welcoming her man home. “Hope you had a wonderful night—”

“What are you doing?” he cut in, voice tight.

Lokie glanced around the room with exaggerated confusion, eyebrows raised. “Isn’t it obvious?” She met his gaze again, one brow arched higher. “Or do I need to spell it out? I’m doing laundry.”

“I mean—” Enzo hissed, barely holding himself back from storming around and snatching up every piece of clothing himself. His hands itched with the urge. “Why the hell are your dresses all over the house?”

“Ah. That.” Lokie’s face shifted into mock realization. She smacked her lips together. “They… fell. While I was bringing them in.” She pouted, the expression almost theatrical. “You know… the disadvantage of having small hands.”

She lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers in the air, studying them as if seeing them for the first time.

Enzo glanced at his wristwatch and let out a long, exhausted sigh. As much as he wanted to deal with her, he didn’t have time. 

“All of this—” He gestured at the disaster with clear disgust twisting his features. “I want it gone before I get back.”

He turned sharply and walked away.

“Of course, husband,” Lokie called after him, her satisfied grin widening. She picked up her phone again, scrolling through it as the grin stayed plastered on her face.

She knew, she'd only do what's in her heart and nothing else.