Page 86 of Brutal Revenge

But it was all part of the plan, the ruse.

It’s just a game to him.

None of it is real.

While swallowing hard, I blink away the sting in my eyes. I refuse to cry. Not here, not over this, and not over him.

I will myself to move. My legs feel like they’re made of concrete, and my thoughts are a chaotic mess of humiliation and heartbreak. I need to get to my room, close the door, and pretend I didn’t hear any of that.

As I move away from the door, it swings open, and Nico exits.

He balks, his brows rising as his eyes bore into mine.

He takes in my tear-stained cheeks, trembling mouth, and rigid grip on the sketchpad before asking, “Azra… are you okay?”

No. Absolutely not. I’m falling apart. But I can’t reveal that to him. I can’t let anyone know that. So I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and lie through my teeth. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He doesn’t buy my lie. Concern softens his usually sharp expression.

Before he can say a word, I thrust the sketchpad toward him as if it’s a prop in a play I’m desperately trying to improv. “Camille got me a really thoughtful gift.” I muster a watery smile. “I’m a bit of a sook when it comes to being spoiled.”

His expression shifts. First confusion, then understanding, then sympathy.

“Azra—”

My feet finally answer the screaming prompts of my brain.

“See you at dinner,” I call over my shoulder, my voice too high to hide its brittleness.

I practically sprint down the hall as the weight of everything presses down on me so hard that I struggle to breathe.

I don’t answer the screams of my lungs until I reach my room and the door clicks shut behind me.

Then I crumple.

Chapter 25

Matteo

The gun range manager snaps a gun case shut with a clean metallic click, and the sound settles in my bones like a promise I’m not sure I have the right to make.

I just purchased Azra a gun. It’s a small, sleek design for someone who shouldn’t have to lift a finger to defend herself. She should be protected by the people around her.

But Azra isn’t that kind of woman, and I’m not that kind of man.

She handled herself fine at the gym. More than fine. She tossed me around like a fucking rag doll, and I loved every damn second of it. But a niggle in my gut won’t leave me alone. It warns that she needs more protection than she realizes.

Possibly even more than I can give her.

The manager of our on-site range clears his throat. Clarke is a good man. Too old to still fight on the front lines, but smart as a whip. He’s kept the Caruso soldiers at the top of their game for the past ten years with marksmanship skills that rival those of world champions.

“Make sure she knows how to use it before you give it to her. Gun safety first.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “This isn’t a toy.”

I nod. “I’ll bring her in tomorrow for her first lesson.”

My cock stiffens imagining Azra holding the gun while her eyes home in on her target. My job as her teacher will be to stand behind her and adjust her grip and aim. I’ll have to be close—real fucking close.

I gag at myself.