Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 181

“Guardami (look at mej,” he whispered, because sometimes English thinned in the raw places. His voice was small, a thing carved from the inside out. “You’re here. You’te with us. He does most take you.”

Her lips moved, forming something thin and ragged. For a second Enze thought the would answer. A breath escaped, raw and brittle: “T

bidn’t ask-

“I know,” he said before she could finish. “I know.”

She sagged into the hollow of his shoulder, broken and human, and for a suspended secund the room telescoped down to them alone tw Tagged heartbeats keeping company in a world that wanted to tally debts like trophies

Nico’s voice came up from the side, rough and too quick. “We find him,” he said. It was less a plan than a promise he made to himself out loud. “We trace him. We make this a liability for him. For every inch he’s in our airspace, we take a pound of flesh.”

skin; it was the same burn that Enzo turned his head enough to see the set of Nico’s jaw. That man’s heat clung to him like a second made Enzo both jealous and grateful. He nodded once. “We do. Tomorrow we get eyes on every ledger. We flush the accounts. We burn the contacts. We make sure there is nowhere in the world where Rafael can hide from the fallout he just invited.”

Dom snorted, a single, dangerous sound. “And then we

nd then we go

him.”

“Not just find,” Gino cut in. “We’ll make him pay piece by piece. Cut his money, cut his reach, cut his teeth. He won’t know what hit him.”

Enzo let the plan form in the quiet: threads of men and money, contacts burned, legal channels flooded with rumors and false leads, old debts called in on Rafael’s people until some of his cages opened from within. He would unleash all the tools he’d been collecting for years–financial strangulation, silent strikes, legal smokescreens. No messy, public war–not yet. Rafael thrived in the glassy parlor of civilized predation; Enzo would teach him the taste of dirty war until the shine flaked

But the truth he told himself, the one he didn’t speak aloud, was simpler and more dangerous: I will find the man who touched her name and make him suffer in ways the world understands. Then I will find the man who bought her childhood and make him wish he had never breathed.

She will not be a ledger. She will not be a debt. Not to them. Not ever.

ribs and He stood, slow, careful not to jostle her. He lifted her and had to adapt the motion to the way her body hung, careful with stitches, every motion catalogued and adjusted. She made no protest. He carried her to the small couch at the side of the studio, wrapped a blanket around her, and sat beside her. One of the men – Jake, who’d finally slipped through the doorway like a shadow with answers placed a small tracker case on the counter, unopened. Enzo took it in his hand, thumb pressing the seam as if the weight of it could anchor something steadier than vows.

“How long until it pings?” Dom asked,

“Soon,” Jake said. His voice was tight but steady. “We put it on a car,

then on a courier. We trace where it moves. We start slow and build

up.”

Enzo nodded. “Then do it. Quietly. Get me a feed. I want names. I want accounts. I want the man who paid the guard to turn a head.”

He turned back to Lola. She curled into him, brittle as paper but somehow still present. He kissed the top of her head, that small, private claim he’d been planting since she’d been a child in his arms. “I’m not going to let them take you,” he murmured, the words both tender and promised as a bullet. “Not ever.”

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11:24 Thu, Oct 9

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