Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 24

24

BETRAYAL CUTS DEEP

Rio

Eleven years ago…

Three days.

We’re leaving in three days.

A bus trip to Georgia, and then…well, we don’t know. We’re winging it. I’ve been pulling small amounts of cash from my dad’s safe at the hotel every few days and withdrawing from my savings. Kinda glad I stashed every penny I made at Papa Gino’s now. Ivory has, too, wads of bills stuffed within a duffle bag I keep in my car. On the day of, we’ll destroy our phones and toss them in the Hudson. No one will be able to trace us. It’ll be as if we just disappeared into thin air. And if they do happen to find us somewhere down the line—it’s because we wanted them to.

Not that we will.

The second they realize what’s happened, they’ll want to tear us apart .

Over my cold, dead body.

That girl is mine.

We’ve waited two years to be free of them, to be free of a rivalry we don’t care about and have the ability to live out in the open rather than hide our relationship in the shadows.

Needless to say, it’s been a taxing feat. Always sneaking around, always lying. I know she hates it. To some extent, I do, too. Comes easier for me, though—a natural skill I’m not entirely proud of but find useful when necessary. Ivory, on the other hand, struggles with it. Especially where her father is concerned. She shifts too much, looks away, even stutters sometimes. How we’ve made it this far is beyond me.

In any case, tonight is our last night with friends. One last hurrah. Aside from my best friend, we haven’t spoken a word to them about the plan, knowing several might try to sway us differently. A few have made it known on more than one occasion they think we should just come clean, that our families will get over it, but I just don’t see how that’s possible.

So the less they know, the better.

Lil Jon’s “Turn Down for What” carries through Jonathan’s house as I push my way through the madness in search of Ivory, strobes and neons illuminating the way. She’s nowhere in the front of the house and the kitchen is a wasteland of beer bottles, red plastic cups, and chip bags strewn all over the marble-topped island. Pulling out my phone, I open up our thread and type out a quick message.

I’m here. Where are you?

I don’t wait for her reply, weaving my way out to the living room where the DJ is stationed, his lights flashing in time with the beat. It’s hard to see, my eyes squinting around the room over writhing bodies and couples making out shadowed corners, but she’s not in here either. I wouldn’t expect her to be, honestly. I keep on toward the backyard, sparing a glance at my phone.

Nothing.

Stowing it in my pocket, I wade out onto the patio. The chaos is no less contained here than it is inside. There’s dancing, groups playing beer pong, people cannonballing into the glow stick infested pool, a ton of ridiculous floaties bobbing on the surface. That’s when I spot Shannel sitting at the edge of the shallow end with her legs dipped in the water, a red Solo cup in hand.

Dropping onto my haunches beside her, she offers a smile when she realizes it’s me. “Riooo, hey.”

“Hey, Shan. Have you seen Ivory?”

“Uhhh…” She scans the perimeter, a look of confusion claiming her expression. “I don’t… No, wait…I think she was w-waiting for you in the…”—hiccup—“…guest house.”

Anddd she’s wasted.

“Thanks,” I chuckle, ruffling the top of her blonde head. “You’re cut off after you finish what’s in that cup.”

“Okayyyyyyy, dad.” She hiccups again and flips me the bird.

Flipping her one in return, I take off for the guest house and just barely make it past one of the football players who tackles his girlfriend into the pool. Screams erupt from the splash zone along with laughter and a roar of cheers. I shake my head jovially. I’ll miss this to some extent. I’m sure Ivory will, too.

But a life of secrecy isn’t worth it .

I’d rather run with her til the very end than spend another year pretending she isn’t the fucking air I breathe.

Pushing through the frosted double doors of the guest house, my brow curves at the lack of bodies in the living room. Usually there’s groups playing games or taking a break from the madness outside, but there isn’t a soul to be seen. The room is spotless, completely untouched.

“Ivory?” I call out over the music, but it’s too damn loud.

The DJ has several speakers meticulously laid out around the property—per Jonathan’s request—to evenly distribute the music.

I keep on through each space, the small kitchen, the bathroom, checking the small study, too, given it’s crammed with books. Nothing. Maybe she’s in the bedroom? My lips curl at the probability. If she’s been drinking, I wouldn’t doubt it. Ivory’s sex drive skyrockets with alcohol in her system. Sealing a quick hand around the knob, I throw open the door in excitement.

But what I find roots me to the spot in an instant, shock and disbelief slapping me in the face.

Jon and Ivory.

On the bed.

He’s got her pinned, her legs around his waist, his pants slouched beneath his ass.

They’re so wrapped up in the moment, they don’t even realize they’re no longer alone.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

I blink again and again, rubbing my eyes desperately, but the image remains the same. I’m not sure how long I stand there before the switch finally flips in my brain and I move. From devastation to rage, I don’t speak a word, just storm up behind them and fist the back of my supposed best friend’s shirt, yanking him off the girl I thought was mine and mine only.

“What the fuck!” I roar above the music.

Jonathan’s glassy eyes widen like a deer in headlights, his mouth popping open to speak and yet nothing comes out—which only serves to unfurl the impulsive beast further and best my rationale.

A steely fist makes perfect contact with his face, dead-fucking-center.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Blood streams down his nose, decorating his lips, and still he remains mute.

“Say something!” I bellow, a clusterfuck of emotions caught in my throat, my crimson-stained knuckles aching from the force of my strike. “How could you do this to me?”

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.

How could he fucking do this to me? I’ve trusted him with my life since we were kids. He’s like a brother to me!

Was.

Was like a brother to me.

“We…w-we didn’t mean for you to find out this way,” he explains.

“We!” My head whips around to Ivory who’s now readjusting her skirt as she scrambles off the bed, her cheeks flushed from the clear generous amount of alcohol she consumed before I got here. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Crow, n-no!” She shakes her head violently, her face paling more and more by the second. “I swear on everything—NO! He’s l ? —”

“No use in lying now, Petal,” Jonathan interjects her plea, redirecting my attention on him at the sound of her pet name coming off his lips.

Both hands now clenching his shirt, I shove the backstabbing bastard into the wall and send my fist flying into his face again. “What the fuck, man! Are you for real right now?”

“I’ve been in love with her for years,” he gripes, his chest heaving a mile per minute. “When you told me you guys were leaving, I knew I had to make a move if I had any chance left with her. Guess I did because ? —”

“No…no, no.” Ivory’s protest sounds off beside us. “No, Rio, l-look at me.”

I do, noting the rivulets of guilt crawling down her cheeks, and yet I can’t help but wonder if it’s all an act, a way to manipulate me.

Why, Petal?

“This isn’t…let me explain. Please,” she begs.

“We didn’t know how to tell you, man,” Jonathan emits, as if I need to hear more. “It’s just… She doesn’t have to leave her life behind to be with me. She doesn’t have to lie to be with me. She can live a normal life, have a normal relationship. I can…I-I can give her everything you can’t.”

Once again I’m glued to the spot beneath me, only this time by the weight of his words. He’s right. On paper, he’s the better option. From the corner of my eye, I catch Ivory coming toward me but she’s too slow and stumbles a step.

“Crow, please…I love you.”

Liar .

Just like my father always said. The Beluccis are liars.

“Do you, though?” I grind out through clenched teeth. “Because you sat here for weeks and were clearly lying to my face. You let him fuck you instead of just telling me straight up. All this planning for what?”

“It’s not t-true. None of it,” she slurs. “The plan hasn’t changed. I want to go with you!”

My stomach turns violently because it’s very much not true. I just saw and experienced it with my own eyes. There’s no denying it. She didn’t want to leave at all, didn’t want to leave her dad and her family behind. I should’ve seen it before. I didn’t want to because I thought I was enough for her, that this was what she wanted—us.

Forever.

Evidently, I was wrong.

“I’m done,” I force the words from my lips as I release the asshole and turn toward Ivory, closing in the short distance between us. Towering over her, I expel every bit of hatred now coursing through me, hoping she chokes on it as I give her my parting words. “You’re dead to me, do you hear me? Don’t ever fucking show your face to me again.”

Ivory blanches in entirety and reaches out for me. “Crow, no ? —”

“C’mon, man,” Jonathan cajoles. “Don’t be like this.”

Don’t be like this?

Man, fuck him.

Fuck him. Fuck her.

Fuck everything.

“Jon…” I peer over my shoulder, flicking my gaze in his direction. “Ru n.”

“Ugh!” I slam my fist into the red leather so hard, the hand wraps meant to shield against the impact do nothing.

Good.

Feeling the sting is preferable to the turmoil raging inside me. I hadn’t thought about that night in a long time. The night my heart was ripped from my chest. The night I swore off love.

The night I lost two of the most important people in my life in one fell swoop.

I’d found ways to block it out until my brain got the memo and ceased fire, but fucking Ivory into oblivion brought it back front and center.

It’s been three days since and this punching bag has been my outlet, taking the brutal brunt of my frustrations. I don’t make use of my building’s gym facilities nearly as often I should, maybe two days a week tops, but I’ve practically lived here for the last seventy-two hours. It’s either this or act on impulse and succumb to the siren call of violence.

The latter wouldn’t fare well for society.

Benedikt Koshka especially.

He might’ve taken off when I let him off his leash, but I have it in my right mind to pay him a little visit and simply do away with him altogether. However, if there’s any evidence at all that would paint him as guilty where my brother’s case is concerned, removing him off the board would be the worst possible move.

So I do this instead, picture his face on the bag and swing .

One for my brother.

One for Ivory.

Ivory.

“Motherfuck!” I roar, slamming my fist into the red leather again, and again, and again until it flies back from the force and nearly knocks me on my ass.

Wrapping my arms around it, I stand there both winded and aggravated with myself. I can’t stop thinking about her. Can’t stop thinking about…

“Oh, God, Rio.”

“More. Give me more. Faster. Harder.”

“Rail me, make me come, please!”

“Oh, fuck. Fuckkk. Right there! That’s it right there!”

“Jesus Christ.” Pressing my forehead to the bag, I squeeze my eyes almost painfully as another wave of this madness consumes me.

Her body pressed up against me. How she felt so familiar yet so different. Those thighs. That ass. The way her cunt welcomed me like it’d been waiting forever and a day for me to come home.

Home, that’s exactly what being with her felt like.

It shouldn’t.

She broke my heart. I told her she was dead to me, that I never wanted to see her again. Threatened her to never return. Burned down her bakery when she defied me, stole her father’s shipment for my gain, went after her brother.

It. Fucking. Shouldn’t. Feel like home.

She shouldn’t feel like home.

But she does—and it’s messing me up. Making me weak. Spawning scenarios I have no business considering.

“Why?” I grit, throwing another afflicted punch. “Why her?”

What is it about Ivory Katerina Belucci that disarms me so completely and makes me defenseless?