Semua Bab Blind Desires: Bab 31 - Bab 40

ENZOTHE CIGARETTE BURNED low between my fingers, the ember eating the paper to nothing. Two nights of running from a boy’s eyes—two nights of pretending his fear didn’t carve me open—had me lighting one after another until my tongue was ash and my chest was smoke.The night air cut cold against my skin, but it didn’t touch the fire under it. My wolf paced, restless and hungry, tearing at the edges of my control, always circling back to the same thing. Tate. The way he’d looked at me that night—not spitting fire, not trying to cut me down. Just fear. Like he’d finally seen the thing under my skin and understood monsters didn’t live under the bed. They lived here. They lived in me. They wanted him.I should’ve let him go. Should’ve cut him loose the second his father’s debts were paid. Johnny was already a walking ghost, his empire gutted and sold. Tate didn’t know. He still thought the man had power, still thought there was money, still thought he had a future to be shoved into. That

TATETHE CLOCK TICKED loud enough to drive me insane.I’d been staring at the same goddamn wall for what felt like hours, pretending I didn’t keep glancing at the door like some pathetic fool. He said he’d be back. That was hours ago. The words were still sitting in my head like static, rubbing raw at the edges every time I replayed them. But he hadn’t said the words I wanted. He hadn’t repeated to me again “I like you Tate.” Even though I knew it was stupid.He had said it last night. He had confessed—that should have been enough except it wasn’t.My stomach finally gave in, growling loud enough to echo off the walls. Fine. Food. Maybe that’d shut my brain up.Downstairs was empty. Not a single soul in sight. No Enzo. No guard hovering like usual. Not even Eli. Just me and that stupid silence that crawled under my skin. I sat in the ridiculously large dining, chewing slow, pretending the food tasted like something other than cardboard. My jaw hurt from clenching. I told myself I did

TATESOMETHING BRUSHED MY face, warm and slow, careful in a way that didn’t belong in this house.For a second, I thought I was dreaming—again. But then I felt it move, fingers trailing along my jaw like they were memorizing it, tracing my throat, the corner of my mouth, the small cut from last night that hadn’t fully healed. My body stirred on instinct. I shifted closer to the touch before I even opened my eyes, and the air I breathed in smelled like clean soap, clean cotton, and something I knew too damn well.Enzo.I opened my eyes to find him kneeling by the bed, one knee pressed into the sheets. His hair was damp, pushed back in messy strands that made him look younger. A black shirt clung to his shoulders, fresh and crisp, like he’d already showered and dressed while I was still half-dead.He looked at me like he wasn’t sure if he should speak, and for a second, I just… stared. There was a faint bruise under his collarbone, one I knew I’d left, and the memory hit fast enough th

ENZO GRANDFATHER IS DEAD. That was what Luke had said before Tate walked in—before the meeting went to hell and the air turned thick enough to choke on. I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers twitching against my thigh as I watched Tate. He was lying on his side, tangled in the sheets, his breathing steady, lips parted just slightly. The room was quiet except for that sound. Peaceful. Too peaceful for the kind of thoughts running through my head. Luke’s words wouldn’t stop replaying. “Found in his study. A single bullet to the head. No witnesses. The cameras were down.” My grandfather had ruled his part of the world with iron and smoke. He’d been the man I ran to when there was nothing left of me—when innocent Adrian had been broken down to bone and ash and needed a new name to survive. Enzo. That’s who he made me. That’s who he taught me to be. Cold. Ruthless. Alive. He hadn’t been kind, but he’d been constant. He never asked about the blood on my hands or the ghosts in my

ENZOTHE SOUND OF the door opening was small, but it cracked through the air like a gunshot. Tate’s breath caught against my mouth, and for a second, everything in me went still. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. The silence gave it away.Eli. He stood there, frozen in the doorway, green hair catching the light, eyes wide and hollow. His gaze dropped, and I could see the exact second it hit him. My fingers were still buried in Tate, my body still caging his, and Tate’s face—Gods, his face—had gone pale, eyes darting away like he didn’t know where to look. Slowly, I pulled my hand back, the sound of it quiet but obscene. Tate flinched and I adjusted his jeans for him, fingers staying a beat too long before I stepped aside, letting him breathe. Eli’s stare burned through both of us. He looked at Tate like the world had just split in half, and that look—it twisted something dark in my gut. I hated how exposed Tate looked under it. “You’re sleeping with him?” Eli’s voice