Love Scars(Under Major Editing)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kate's POV:

The beach house was alive with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of glasses, a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within me. The guys were sprawled across the plush sofas, their carefree attitudes a mask to the danger that was our constant shadow. This was the world of the mafia, where every smile hid a dagger, and every friendly pat on the back could be a prelude to a betrayal.

I stood by the window, my gaze lost to the rolling waves that crashed against the shore with relentless energy. The beach stretched out before me, a canvas of golden sand painted with the footprints of those who dared to tread close to the water's edge. The sun was setting, its dying light casting a fiery glow across the sky, turning the clouds into molten gold.

Lucio had not been seen for days, his absence a gaping hole in the fabric of our little group. He was the sun around which we all orbited, his gravitational pull both a comfort and a curse. His presence was missed, and yet, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the distance it afforded me. With him away, I could breathe, think, and be myself without the weight of his gaze pinning me down.

But even as I savored this freedom, I couldn't shake off the memory of his touch, the way his fingers had traced the zipper of my dress, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. It was a dangerous game we played, this dance of attraction and power, and I was all too aware of the consequences should I stumble.

"Kate, come join us!" Emerald's voice pulled me from my reverie, her hand waving me over to where the others sat. I forced a smile and made my way to them, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears louder than the music that filled the room.

Michen handed me a drink, his eyes searching mine for a sign of the turmoil I worked so hard to hide. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

"Yeah, just tired," I lied, taking a sip of the cool liquid that did little to quench the thirst that had nothing to do with dehydration.

The conversation flowed around me, topics flitting from business to pleasure and back again. Steven regaled us with tales of his latest conquests, his laughter booming and infectious. Jordan and Joseph bickered like an old married couple, their insults laced with an affection that only siblings could share.

And through it all, I sat there, a silent observer to the lives that moved with a rhythm I was still learning to understand. These men, these dangerous, powerful men, had become my family by circumstance rather than choice. And yet, I couldn't deny the bond that was forming, fragile and tentative, but there nonetheless.

As the night wore on, the party moved outside, the bonfire casting dancing shadows across the faces of those gathered around it. The stars twinkled above, indifferent witnesses to the lives of mortals below. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, the chill of the night air a welcome reprieve from the heat of the flames.

"Tell us a story, Kate," Steven said, his eyes alight with mischief. "Something from before all this."

I hesitated, the past a locked box I wasn't sure I wanted to open. But the expectant faces around me were hard to resist, and so I began, my voice a whisper that grew stronger with each word.

I told them of a life that seemed like someone else's, of dreams that had been shattered and rebuilt. I spoke of pain and loss, but also of hope and resilience. And as I talked, I realized that this was more than just a story; it was a confession, a catharsis, a way to let go of the ghosts that haunted me.

When I finished, there was silence, a heavy blanket that wrapped around us all. And then, one by one, they began to share their own stories, their voices a chorus of shared pain and shared strength.

We sat there until the fire burned down to embers, the darkness a cloak that hid our tears and our smiles. And in that moment, I knew that no matter what the future held, I would not face it alone.