Chapter 107. Power Over Him

Rico lay quietly on his bed, his chest rising and falling heavily. The room was empty now, Calla having left only minutes ago, but her presence still lingered like a bruise he couldn’t touch.

He hurled the whiskey bottle at the wall, the crash loud enough to shake the room, glass flying everywhere as the amber liquid splashed down the wall.

A groan tore from his chest as his hand moved instinctively to his wounds. His jaw was clenched tight, his face and lips pale as porcelain, pain and anger sitting clearly in his expression.

He pulled in a rough breath, then another, trying to steady himself, trying not to let everything tear him apart at once.

Calla had walked in like she belonged there. Like she belonged in his life. Like she hadn’t lied straight to his face or made him look like a fool in front of his men—they now know about Calla, Sandro had pulled footage from Marco’s hideout during his hacking.

She had acted like she cared, and he hated that par