Ruin Me With Lies, page 35
Goddammit, my eyes. I blindly stagger forward, until pain rips through my shin as my knee connects with a hard object. Fucking fuck. “RAYA!”
Arms wrap around me and then I’m jerked backward. Pressure hits behind my right knee to weaken it, followed by a forceful weight against my shoulders, pulling me down.
I don’t fight it. Just let it happen. Because even blinded, my body recognizes hers. “Raya...”
Her arm tightens around my neck, gentle but firm. And then her voice, calm and dispassionate, is at my ear. “Didn’t I tell you…I don’t need saving?”
Judging from the muted muffle of her words, she’s wearing a mask. Good, she’s protected.
“Raya, don’t leave.” I’m ashamed of how my voice cracks. “I don’t care if you’re behind all of this. Please. Stay.”
“We both knew we were on borrowed time, Stefano.” With skill and precision, she applies pressure to both major arteries. Darkness rushes in, fast and heavy. “We could never be anything more.”
I try to speak, to ask… “Who…are…you?”
A beat.
“Soraya.” The word is a distant echo. “My name is Soraya.”
And as the world collapses into black, her final words follow me down, “Goodbye, my king.”
PART TWO
The Other Side by Ruelle
CHAPTER THIRTY–EIGHT
Stefano
FIVE MONTHS LATER
THREE MONTHS BEFORE RAYA Michel conned her way into our lives, I started having a recurring dream. A black sheep with glowing green eyes wandered into my villa and charmed everyone. Became their villa pet. Their mascot.
Then, when their guard was down, it bared the teeth of a wolf and tore their throats out. One by one.
When it was done with them, it turned and leapt at me, morphing into a wolf mid-air. Slammed me to the ground, punched its claws into my chest, ripped my heart out…and ate it.
What made that particular recurring dream unusual was that the ending would be different sometimes—which never happened before. My dreams were always consistent, clear, unchanging, right up until they became reality.
But this one? Sometimes, instead of killing me, the wolf would whimper, slobber wet licks all over my face, then stretch out on top of me and sleep. Like I was its owner.
When I ran into Raya in the gym a few months later, I knew right away. Knew she was the sheep-wolf. And when the dreams suddenly stopped after meeting her, it couldn’t have been clearer.
I knew what needed to be done—kill her before she could ruin us.
But I kept delaying for some reason, and ultimately manipulated Lorenzo into triggering the Halo pact, which effectively gave me an excuse to do nothing. Because in the back of my mind was that other version of the dream…
What did it mean? I was deeply curious. And when you’re bored with life, taking the riskier path is always a good way to spice things up. So I watched. Waited. Kept her close.
Until I began having a new dream about the green-eyed wolf. Right around the time I started to get attached. To care. It felt like punishment. Karma.
Because in that dream, a thick fog crept into the villa and cloaked everything and everyone. And when the fog finally cleared…
The wolf was gone.
The meaning was clear as day. She would leave.
I knew it was coming. Expected it. But I wasn’t prepared for this. This gut-wrenching, soul-hollowing ache. Bereft. Destroyed. Obliterated.
Now I know exactly which version of the dream played out. Because there’s a gaping hole in my chest right now. Raw. Ravaged. The green-eyed wolf ripped my heart out and left me on my knees. Broken and ruined.
And I’ll never be the same.
~
I GET BACK and find Lorenzo in my office. Again. “Get out.”
“Oh, look, it’s that other dude who looks just like me,” he says. “What’s your name again?”
I dump my travel bag on an armchair and shrug off my overcoat. “Not in the mood, Lo.”
He snorts. “Are you ever these days?” Instead of fucking off, he sets his laptop aside and gets comfortable. “You disappear for weeks at a time, and when you are around, you lock yourself in this office and ignore everyone. What do you expect me to do? I miss my brother.”
I roll up my sleeves and move around to my desk.
“Cora’s worried,” he adds. “So are your men.”
“Worried about what?” I ask, annoyed. “In spite of everything, we’re having a banging financial year. Their pockets are full, their families safe and comfortable. So what the fuck are they worried about? What, they need me to be here twenty-four seven to—”
“If those men getting down on their knees right along with you, prepared to die with you, isn’t enough to get it through your thick skull that they love, respect, and care about you…then I don’t know what the fuck to tell you, Stefano.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Your men are worried about you. As a person. That’s it. Nothing else.”
Maybe. But I hate that I put them in a position where they had to do that in the first place. Did it show loyalty? Yeah. But there’s no honor in kneeling before your enemy.
Still, I can’t deny that the family’s never been more solid and bonded than it is right now. Business, in the aftermath, has never flowed smoother. That night, and everything that led up to it, shook us up. For the better.
At the same time, it feels like I’m on the outside of that bond. On an island by myself. Lost, wounded, exposed. Bare and empty. Like a pirate forced to surrender his ship, loaded with treasure, to a raging sea just to survive.
I had something good. Something that could’ve been great. Something that made me feel, for the first time in a long time. And it was ripped away. Gone.
That’s why I’ll never stop searching for her. Because the thing that’s missing, the only thing that could ever fill the jagged, mangled hole in my chest, is her. I need to find her.
“Goodbye, my king.”
Those were her last words to me, the last time I heard her voice before I was shit-kicked into oblivion. And when I came to, she was gone. A trail of bodies left in her wake.
Almost a full day passed before we even began to make sense of what happened. That’s when one of the Pink House girls—Louisa or Linda or whatever the hell her name is—nervously came forward. Said Raya gave her two flash drives to pass on to me only after she was gone.
On one drive was every answer to every question we had. A clear, complete roadmap of everything that led to Vale’s final play. Names. Dates. Plans. Allies. Recordings. Photos. Surveillance logs. Paper trails. Even locations.
Everything, right back to the genesis of the failed coup.
Long story short, there’s an Armenian organization that’s been trying to run a human trafficking operation through Vegas for years. I’ve told them to fuck off in every language and gesture imaginable. Caught them twice when they secretly tried to do it anyway.
Attempt number three was the last straw. I grabbed three of their members, dismembered them into pieces until it was impossible to tell what body part belonged to who, then dumped them in their head honcho’s night club in L.A. to send a clear message.
And then I banned them from the city entirely.
No surprise that they didn’t take lightly to the ban. They rallied every snake and coward with a grudge against me, formed an alliance, and agreed to fund a full-scale takedown. With the agreement that once Luca was in charge, they’d get the green light to run their trafficking operation through the city.
Short story even shorter, it didn’t work.
But what gutted me most was finding out Vale had launched his own sex trafficking ring. Right inside the fucking cathedral.
He used our recruiter Vivienne to pull in women from shelters, under the guise of giving them safety, food, and boarding at a nunnery. Instead, he assaulted, tortured, and abused them. Held them hostage.
That’s the part that ignites my rage. Because less than a year ago, Vale asked me to exclude the cathedral from our routine checks, said he wanted to preserve its sanctity. And I agreed. Out of sacred respect.
Those women were taken and brutalized because of my blind spot with blood relatives.
In one of Raya’s videos, she explained what happened after Luca’s death. She made contact with the agency Vale used to hire mercenaries and offered them double the price to pull their men out of Vegas.
Once they left, Raya’s team slipped in, posing as the agents. Yeah, the little liar had a goddamn team.
They sabotaged from the inside. Tampered with the weapons and ammo. Freed the women held captive at the Cathedral. Burned the operation down. Enraged him to the point that he would go after someone I cared about. Though they thought it would’ve been Lorenzo, it turned out to be her. But they were prepared.
During that entire showdown at the casino, most of the men were hers, interspersed with several traitorous Uppers and Soldatis who’d switched sides. The turncoats, unaware their guns had been loaded with blanks, were the only ones lying lifeless on the floor when the smoke cleared.
The second flash drive contained just one file.
Only44You.mp4.
Her message to me was short, dispassionate, to the point.:
“You’ll want to know why I came. Why I lied. Why I helped. And the simple answer is: because I cared. That’s it. I care about you, Stefano Castello. I found out you were about to be in trouble, and I wanted to help. You were a king in distress, and I wanted to be your Knightress in Shining Armor. That’s all there is to it.
“Now my job is done, and I have to leave. Don’t come looking for me. You won’t find me. It’s been an honor to serve you, my king. You are more…so much more, than I could’ve ever imagined. I’ll cherish that weekend forever. Goodbye.”
I punched a hole through the wall after watching that video. Then I watched it again. Half a dozen times. Just to stare at her face. And another dozen times, searching for hints, clues, anything. But there was nothing.
Nothing else mattered after that night. After that message. All I could think about was finding her. Tunnel vision. I hired private investigators. The best of the best. Traveled country to country, chasing down dead-end leads.
It’s been five months. Five months of hunting. Blowing money. Chasing ghosts. And every time I think, “this is it, I’ve found her,” it turns out to be bullshit.
Now here I am, fresh off a wild goose chase in Ireland with nothing but egg on my face, pissed at the world, and my brother isn’t taking the damn hint. I just want to be left alone.
“Okay, fine. Ignore me,” he grumbles. “Keep treating me like shit. You knew her for a few months, hated her for half of it. I’ve been here your whole life—”
“For fuck’s sake, man, go swallow a Pamprin if you’re on your period.” I shoot him a sharp look. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“I’m about this close to using my gun right now, so you know what…” He stands, straightening his shoulder holster. “At least get your head back in the game and stop blowing off your business partners. The Koreans have lost patience with your constant rescheduling. Either move forward with the deal or stop stringing them along.”
He grabs his laptop off the couch, and something familiar catches my eye right before he snaps it shut.
“What’s that screensaver on your laptop?” I ask.
He cuts me a look, as though checking if I’m serious.
I lift an expectant brow, waiting.
With a long-suffering sigh and a shake of his head, he says, “Some kind of clock tower Raya added. No idea what the hell she did, ‘cause every time I try to change the damn thing, it just bounces back.”
“How long ago did she add it?”
“Since she started working for me. Used to fiddle with my shit just to piss me off and—” He stops short. Narrows a wary gaze at me, like he’s suddenly regretting every word. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” I rock back in my chair, casual. “Just thought it looked familiar, is all.”
Unconvinced, he stares a second longer, then grunts disapprovingly and starts to leave. At the door, he pauses and throws a parting shot over his shoulder. “You’re not the only one who got attached, Stefano. I miss her, too. But working closely with her has only taught me how much of a wily wolf she is. She’s a clean eater, no crumbs left behind. So unless she wants to be found…” He shrugs. “You won’t find her. Give it up, man.”
The second the door clicks shut, I flip open my laptop, punch in the password, and…there it is.
That same damn clock tower screensaver that appeared when Raya was covering for Gio while he was out sick. I never bothered changing it. Didn’t see the point. I’m not a computer guy, so I don’t care about flashy settings or background fluff. I get in, do what needs doing, and that’s it. Give me my tablet any day—quick, clean, practical. Just how I like it.
But glimpsing it on Lorenzo’s screen felt like a jolt to the brain. Because I’ve seen it somewhere else before, not just here.
I grab my phone and pull up the copy of the video she left me.
In all her other videos, she’s in front of a plain gray wall. Cropped in tight. No details. Nothing to trace.
But in this one she left specifically for me, she’s in her room at the Pink House, sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed. A wide-frame shot.
I hadn’t thought much of the change in setting. Her hair’s different. Her clothes, too. Just figured she filmed it on a different day.
But now, as my attention narrows in on the picture frame propped on the nightstand behind her, I’m realizing she shot this video in a different location, with a wider angle, on purpose.
The clock tower. That’s it. That’s the fucking clue. All this damn time…
In the next breath, I’m on my feet and rounding the desk. But before I can snatch my coat from the armchair, a quick knock sounds at the door, and Santo Luciani strolls in. In his goddamn spit-shine wingtips and a sharp, double-breasted suit.
Fucking perfect. Last time this bastard showed up, it was to tell me I’d narrowly avoided THE O’s kill list.
“Well, hell. If it isn’t Lord Bearer of Bad News,” I grumble, grabbing my coat. “Whatever the message is this time, leave it with Lo. I’m not in the mood.”
“Hello to you, too, Stefano,” he drawls. “You look...different.”
If by different, he means sleep-deprived and half-feral, then yeah. My hair’s grown out damn near as long as Lorenzo’s, and I’ve been self-trimming my thickening beard just enough to stay sane.
“Like I said. Not a good time.” I shrug into my coat and move past the armchair, heading for the door. “Have to run.”
“Stop searching for her.”
That stops me cold. “What?”
“That’s the message.” He shrugs. “They had me come all the way here to deliver it face to face.”
I round on him. “Why the hell do they give a shit?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Is she…” My voice drops. “Is she with THE O, Guy?”
I’ve gone back and forth on that possibility. Would explain a lot—her multifaceted skills, her range of knowledge, the way she always seemed three steps ahead. But then again…why would THE O put me on their kill list, cut off our aid, then send in a secret asset to help? What was there to gain from that?
They don’t move in shadows. They broadcast their power. Loud, dramatic, unmistakable. They love making it known who holds all the power.
Raya was the opposite of that. Quiet, cloaked, precise. A slithering serpent in silk.
“I don’t know,” Santo repeats.
“What the fuck do you know?”
“Exactly what I told you. They want you to stop looking for her.”
I take in his stoic demeanor, searching for a tell. But there’s no reading Santo Luciani. The man lived a double life for over a decade and not a soul ever caught on.
Is the fucker lying to me? Absolutely. Would he sneak me a hint even if I asked nicely? Not a chance. He’s loyal to the bone. There’s a reason he’s THE O’s favorite.
“Well, here’s my message to them.” I move toward the door. “I won’t stop searching. So kill me to stop me, or fuck off.”
“You need to let it go, Stefano,” he calls after me. “It won’t end well.”
Hand on the knob, I pause. “I can’t, Guy. No part of me will let me. I don’t know why but I…I need her.”
He nods slowly, as if he understands. Maybe he does. “Then good luck.”
CHAPTER THIRTY–NINE
Stefano
TAZI’S IN MY FACE the second I walk through the front door of the Pink House. “Uh, hey, boss. Do you...need help with something?”
“If I needed your help, I’d have called you, wouldn’t I?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She falls in step behind me as I head for the stairs. “It’s just that you, um, never really come here?”
“I’ve been here enough to know my way around. Get back to whatever you were doing.”
“Ah. Sure. Of course, boss.”
Halfway up the staircase, I stop and look down at her. “Wait. Did Louisa receive any packages while I was away?”
Tazi thinks for a second, then shakes her head. “No, nothing. I would have updated you right away, like you asked, boss.”
I nod and continue to the second floor, down the hallway that leads to Raya’s room.
Two girls walking up the hall stop the second they see me. One lets out a squeak, turns, and scurries off.
“Louisa. Stop.”
She halts, shoulders tight as she slowly turns. “I have not heard from her. She has not contacted me, I swear it, señor.”
“Then why are you running?”
“Because you are s-s-scary. And you hate me b-because of Raya.”
No, I resent her because Raya trusted her. Because she gave her loyalty to Raya instead of me. As if I’m not the one giving her protection, housing her, feeding her. She was on no one’s radar, and somehow Raya knew she could leave something that sensitive with her and it wouldn’t see the light of day before its time.
