Lahat ng Kabanata ng Blind Desires: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

ENZOTHREE DAYS AGOItaly smelled the same. Cold marble, damp air, a hint of cigars still clinging to the curtains of a man who’d been dead barely a week. I stood in my grandfather’s study, the one no one but him was ever allowed into, and all I could think was how small it looked now. The shelves that used to tower over me when I first joined the Moretti family, the same desk where he’d press a heavy hand to my shoulder and tell me a man’s power came from silence—it all felt stripped of life. Empty.The lawyer was talking. Something about the will, the division of assets, my share of the family’s holdings. I wasn’t listening. My eyes stayed fixed on the chair where he was found dead and the old cigar tray beside the desk, ash still in it, like he’d left in the middle of a thought. “I don’t care about the will,” I cut in, my voice low. “I asked who killed him.” The man froze, pen hovering above the papers. “Mr. Moretti, the investigation—” “Spare me that.” I leaned forward, ev

ENZO HE SAID SHOW me. He didn’t know what he was asking for. Because If he did, he’d run. He’d fucking run until the ground tore underneath him. But Tate just stood there, chest rising and falling like he was daring me to do it. To tear open what I’d buried thirteen years ago. My mouth went dry. “You want to know who I am?” I said quietly, my fingers reaching to touch him. To pull him close. Tate’s brow furrowed, lips parting like he wanted to say something, but I didn’t let him. “I killed him,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them, the memories I tried so hard to bury shoving their way to the front. “My mate. The boy in the picture. I killed him. The only person who ever looked at me the way you just did and he had looked at me like this before I killed him.” Silence. The kind that hums in your bones. He didn’t move, but I saw it—the flicker of fear in his eyes, the way his throat worked like he couldn’t swallow it down, the way he twitched like he wanted to r

13 Years Ago (1 Year Later)ENZOTHE FIRST HIT landed before I even realized it was coming, a sharp crack that split my lip and left the taste of iron on my tongue. My chest tightened, muscles coiling to hold back the tremor that wanted to shake me into pieces.“Say that again,” Marcus growled, drunk and venomous, each syllable vibrating through the room like a hammer. “Go on, boy—say it.”I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, letting the sting mix with the dull ache in my ribs. I looked up, straight at him. “I said you’re a coward.”The room went silent, except for the slow tick of the clock. I could feel every second scraping against me.His eyes narrowed at me like he did not expect me to say it again. “Watch your mouth, Adrian.”I let a humorless laugh escape, the sound hollow, brittle. “Why? You’re gonna hit me again? Go on. You already do that better than you father me.”Before I could brace myself, his hand grabbed my collar, slamming me into the wall. Pain

ENZOI DIDN’T REMEMBER the first day. Or the second.Everything after Tristan’s body lay on the floor blurred into one suffocating nightmare. I didn’t remember them dragging me away, but I remembered waking and running back, how they pried me off him—four guards, maybe five—and how I fought until my claws cracked and my throat tore raw from screaming his name. I only stopped when I tasted my own blood, when I realized I was trying to rip open my own skin just to feel something other than the bond dead in my chest.They threw me in a storage room. Concrete floor. No windows. The fading scent of my mate still clung to my hands. In my jacket pocket, the small camera Tristan had used to take our pictures that night pressed against my ribs. I knew it was there, but I couldn’t look at it. I couldn’t touch it.A week. Maybe more. Time didn’t exist without him.I didn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him clawing at himself, begging me to stop him, begging me not to let Marcus use h

TATEI DIDN’T MOVE. Couldn’t.Because if I did—even a breath the wrong way—I’d lose the nerve holding me here. And I wasn’t walking away from him. Not tonight. Not after everything that led us to this terrifying, magnetic fucking moment.Enzo was still warm from the shift, heat rolling off him in slow waves that kept brushing my skin and stealing whatever thoughts I tried to form. His eyes were dark, fixed on me like he could feel every thud in my chest before I even felt it. And I hated how true that probably was.My fingers twitched. My whole body ached to touch him, and my brain kept lagging behind, useless, slow, a few steps behind the wanting.“You’ve been staring,” he said, voice low enough to drag straight down my spine. The corner of his mouth liftedand it punched a knot into my stomach.A broken laugh slipped out of me. “I… was—”The words hit my tongue and then dissolved, because how do you explain this? This pressure in my chest like something was trying to claw its way out