King of Ruin

Isla DeLuca had never truly believed in the concept of escaping her past. You could run, you could hide, but the shadows followed you like ghosts, clinging to your heels, whispering in your ear, and occasionally catching up to swallow you whole. It was the price of loving a man like Lorenzo "Enzo" Ricci-mafia heir, billionaire, and the one person who had both destroyed her and made her believe in the impossible. Five years had passed since she'd left New York, fleeing from him like a frightened bird, wings battered and broken by betrayal.

She thought she'd found freedom in a small town, hidden away from the violence, the threats, and the haunting memories of Enzo. But as she stepped out of the bakery on a crisp morning, carrying a bag of fresh bread, the one thing she'd tried to bury for so long found her. His presence. The unmistakable roar of a black sports car engine shattered the peaceful air, its sound growing louder with each passing second until it stopped, just a few feet away. Isla's heart jumped into her throat as her breath caught. She froze, the paper bag in her hands suddenly feeling too heavy, as though it might shatter under the weight of what was happening. She could already feel the storm before it hit-Enzo Ricci had arrived. The door of the car swung open, and he stepped out. His tailored suit clung to his tall, muscular frame, the fit as sharp and immaculate as always. His dark hair was perfectly styled, the storm of his previous years replaced by a new calm, a calculated serenity in his expression. His green eyes, as cold as the forest at midnight, scanned the street with the kind of intensity that made Isla's pulse race. He didn't look lost. He didn't look like someone who had spent years rebuilding his life. He looked like the same dangerous man she had run from, the same man whose betrayal still stung like the deepest of cuts. "Isla," he said, his voice a deep, silken growl that sent a shiver down her spine. The world seemed to stop around her. Everything fell away, leaving only the sound of her breathing and the growing weight of his stare. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it, and yet, she didn't move. She didn't dare. It had been five years since she'd seen him, and yet, he was still the very embodiment of everything she had once loved and feared. The memories of their time together flooded back-long, passionate nights where love had intertwined with power, with promises they had both broken. She'd fallen for the lie of his tenderness, of the soft words he whispered in the dark. But the moment he cast her aside-cold, calculating, emotionless-those words became as hollow as his promises. Now, here he was, standing in front of her, as if no time had passed at all, as though he hadn't crushed her heart beneath his heel, leaving her to pick up the shattered pieces. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn't come. What could she say? There was nothing she could say to this man. Nothing that could undo the wreckage he had caused, the pain he had left behind. His eyes softened for just a fraction of a second-just long enough for Isla to catch the shift. There was something there-something more than the cold, hard exterior he wore like armor. She could almost believe it was regret, but the icy edge of his gaze soon reclaimed control. It wasn't enough to sway her. Not after everything. "You've been avoiding me, Isla," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "You've been hiding." "Hiding?" she repeated, finally finding her voice. It was low, controlled, and laced with bitterness. "Is that what you think I've been doing, Enzo? Hiding?" He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers, the air around them thick with unspoken tension. "You left, Isla. Without a word. Without any explanation. You made me think I was losing my mind. You think I wouldn't come looking for you? I always come looking for what's mine." Isla flinched at his words, her jaw tightening, the past crashing into her like a tidal wave. How could he be so certain, so sure of his claim over her, even now? After everything that had happened, did he still believe that she was his to command? She didn't respond right away, because the truth was, she had no idea how to explain to him why she had run. How to explain the anger and the shame she had felt when she realized the man she had loved wasn't the man she thought he was? She had tried to keep her heart from shattering when she saw him-cold and indifferent-drifting further from her with every passing moment. "I never meant to hurt you," he continued, his voice softer now, like a whisper of a truth she couldn't entirely believe. "But I can't undo what's been done. I want to make it right." Isla shook her head, taking a step back, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Make it right? After five years? After you tossed me aside like I was nothing?" Her voice cracked with the weight of her hurt. "No, Enzo. You can't just erase what you did. You can't fix it." For a moment, the mask of control slipped. She saw the raw emotion flash in his eyes-a flicker of regret, of something that felt dangerously close to longing. But it was gone as quickly as it came, buried beneath the walls he'd constructed to shield himself from any weakness. "I never stopped loving you, Isla," he said, taking another step forward, his tone growing more insistent. "I've spent every day since wondering what happened. Wondering why you left. I won't let you walk away again. Not without hearing the truth from you." The truth. The one thing he'd never wanted to hear, the one thing that would shatter the version of their past he had crafted in his mind. Isla's chest tightened as she fought to keep her emotions in check, her hands trembling at her sides. How could she possibly tell him? How could she expose the darkest part of their relationship-the lies, the betrayals, the emptiness that had consumed them both in the end? "I'm not the woman you remember, Enzo," she finally whispered, her voice strained. "I'm not the woman you left behind." For the first time in years, Enzo's face flickered with something akin to fear-a fleeting moment before it was masked by the usual arrogance and power that made him who he was. But this time, she saw through him. She saw the man who had once destroyed her, the man who had torn their love apart. And she wasn't going to let him do it again. Turning on her heel, she began to walk away, her heart racing, her breath catching in her throat. Enzo called after her, his voice desperate, but Isla didn't look back. She couldn't. She wouldn't.