Pains

Rose POv

I just wanted to clear my head when I saw him kissing another lady.

“What’s going on here!!!” I said as they both turned to look at me , the lady face not in shock instead she had a smirking evil smile to her glad and accomplished with what she had done.

I turned to leave , what I saw just now broke me and I could hear Luther chasing after me.

“Rose! Rose!”
I could hear Luther’s voice behind me, pounding the silence of the night like a war drum. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. If I stopped, I’d break. Fully. Loudly. Publicly.

I pushed through the hotel doors, the night air slicing across my skin like knives.

My heels clacked harshly against the pavement as I stormed toward the parked car.

My chest heaved, but the burn wasn’t just from the sprint it was from betrayal, humiliation... rage.

“Rose, stop!”

His hand gripped my arm just before I reached the car door. I turned sharply, eyes wide with fury and tears.

“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, yanking my arm free like his touch burned me.

He looked stunned, like he didn’t expect the fire in my voice. Good. He needed to feel it.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” I screamed. “I walked in and saw you kissing her! And she looked so damn pleased with herself like she had won some prize. Was I just a game to you, Luther?”

His jaw clenched. His eyes searched mine — desperate, almost pained. But I couldn’t afford to be swayed by that look. Not again.

“She kissed me, Rose,” he said through gritted teeth. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t kiss her back. I pushed her away right after, but you were already walking out.”

I scoffed, folding my arms. “That’s convenient, isn’t it?”

He stepped closer, and I stepped back.

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Because I can’t trust you!” My voice cracked at the end, my facade finally beginning to splinter. “Why is it so hard to just be honest with me, Luther? I didn’t ask to be dragged into whatever the hell this is.”

I swallowed hard, arms tightening across my chest. “Do you even care how that made me feel?”

He looked at me for a long second, and then shook his head.

“Feelings don’t survive in this world. But you do something to me I can’t explain. I don’t like seeing you hurt.

And I sure as hell didn’t plan on hurting you.”

I almost believed him. Almost.

“I just... I don’t understand how this became my life,” I muttered. “This drama. The guns.

The lies.”

That’s when he said it, his voice calm but edged in steel.

“Rose, I didn’t drag you into this world,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “You were already in it the moment you dated Vicenzo.

And besides,” he added, walking a step closer, “I didn’t drag you. We collided.”

I stared at him, stunned into silence. His words struck deep too honest, too real.

My voice was hoarse when I finally responded. “Then maybe I’ll drag myself out.”

He didn’t stop me. He didn’t plead. Of course he wouldn’t. That’s not Luther.

Instead, he gave a short nod to one of his men standing by a black SUV. “Marco will take you home.”

I turned sharply. “No, I said I’m going alone.”

He gave me a cold look. “That’s not up for discussion.”

“I don’t want your men watching me,” I hissed.

“He won’t watch. He won’t ask. He won’t speak,” Luther replied, his voice clipped.

“He’ll just make sure you get home in one piece. That’s the least I owe you.”

There was no winning with him. He always had the last word, always made the final call.

Marco stepped forward, opened the door without a sound.

I hesitated, just for a moment, before I looked at Luther one last time.

“Bye, Luther.”

He didn’t move. He just watched me with that guarded expression, hands in his pockets like he wasn’t phased. But his eyes they gave him away.

They always did.

Then I slid into the car, shut the door myself.

As Marco started the engine and the car rolled forward, I leaned back into the seat, closed my eyes, and whispered to myself—

“Okay. I’ll drag myself out.”

It took everything in me not to cry as the city blurred past the window. The weight of tonight pressed on my shoulders like a thousand bricks. Betrayal. Confusion.

And something far worse… the lingering pull I still felt toward him.

Foolish.

When we pulled up to my apartment building, Marco didn’t speak — just stepped out and opened my door. I didn’t thank him. I couldn’t even look at him. I just wanted to get inside and pretend this night never happened.

But the second I walked in, I knew something was wrong.

The air was off. The hallway was too quiet. The light I’d left on earlier was off.

I hesitated. My hand hovered over the switch before I flicked it on.

Silence.

Then I noticed it glass on the floor. My vase. Shattered. And beside it… the photo of my mom and I. Cracked.

A chill slid down my spine.

I stepped further in, slowly, toward the living room.

That’s when I saw it.

A black envelope sitting on the center of the coffee table. Neat. Intentional. Waiting.

My hands trembled as I reached for it.

No name. No address. Just a wax seal — red, with a serpent etched into it.

My stomach twisted.

I peeled it open with shaky fingers.

Inside: one folded piece of thick paper.
And a single bullet.

The message read:

“You chose the wrong side.”

My breath hitched.

My mind raced.

Someone had been here. Someone who didn’t just want to scare me — they wanted me to know they were watching.

I dropped the letter, heart pounding as I stumbled back, reaching for my phone.

My finger hovered over Luther’s name.

But I couldn’t.

Not yet.

Not after everything.

No more mafia games. No more dangerous love. No more pretending I was just collateral damage.

I told him I’d drag myself out.

But as I stared at that bullet sitting in my living room…

I realized I might already be too far in.