Does It Hurt?: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

An entire fucking day wasted.

No door to the beacon was found, and I’m ready to pull my goddamn hair out. I spent so much time pounding on walls that it’s echoing in my brain, and now my head is pounding just as incessantly.

Mine and Enzo’s mood only seemed to worsen as time went on. Apparently, we’re still not in a place with each other where we can brood together peacefully.

Last night was a reminder that we don’t belong on this fucking island, yet helpless to do anything about it. With the knowledge that Sylvester is somewhere out there and that we’re still not any closer to finding the beacon, it’s begun to get to both of us—drive us insane.

We’ve been at each other’s throats all day, and while I’ve been snappy, he’s been flat-out angry from the moment we awoke. Though, as time passes, I’m less convinced that he’s just having a bad day and wondering if maybe I did do something wrong.

I don’t want to go back in the room yet. It’s only five in the afternoon, but we decided to call it a day.

I’m standing in the bathroom, fresh out of the shower and feeling on edge. The mirror is fogged, and I refuse to wipe away the condensation. I’ve never liked looking myself in the eye anyway—I’m too ashamed—but I’m also convinced that the moment I do, there will be a demon standing behind me.

I glance down at the only belongings I possess. Aside from the t-shirt, it’s the same clothes I’ve been forced to wear for over three weeks. I got tired of the musty stench and washed all of Sylvester’s shirts and made sure to keep a routine every few days to keep our clothes clean.

He has enough of them that I’ve been able to rotate them out, but my neon green bathing suit is getting worn out from constant wear.

Now that it’s just me and Enzo, I’m tempted to go commando and only wear an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath.

But then I remember why I don’t want to go back in the room. Enzo is in there, and for whatever reason, I hate him right now.

Both of us have been assholes today. I can admit that much. This place is driving us stir-crazy, and the longer I stay here, the more I want to stab something. It’s unfortunate for Enzo that he tends to be the closest thing to me.

Sighing, I pull on the bathing suit but forgo the shorts and shirt. I’ll just grab a new top from Sylvester’s closet and deal.

But I’m stopped short at the doorway when I nearly collide with Enzo. He’s coming out of the bedroom with the shotgun in his hand—he’s been carrying it everywhere—heading downstairs, and he freezes just as I do.

While I stare at him in shock from nearly being run over by an angry six-foot-too-many-inches man, he glares back with a thunderous expression.

Slowly, he rakes his eyes over my half-naked form, then proceeds to curl his upper lip into a snarl. He looks… disgusted, and he might as well have shoved that shotgun into my chest and pulled the trigger.

My mouth parts, hurt and confused, when he resumes his path toward the stairs.

“Get fucking dressed, Sawyer. That’s not what I want to see.”

My eyes bug, and I gasp in utter disbelief.

He did not just say that to me.

Before I can process how to respond, he’s already gone.

That. Fucking. Asshole!

Overcome with my freshly bruised ego and fury that he would say something so shitty, I barely remember storming into Sylvester’s room and ripping a shirt off a hanger in his closet. There’s barely any left, most of them being used for our makeshift rope now.

But before I pull it on, I stop and stand in front of the full-length mirror in his room. It takes a second to realize I can’t get a good look at myself because my vision is blurred from burning tears.

I rub at them, forcing them away, and then for what feels like the first time in years, I study my reflection, though I still avoid my eyes. Kev is the last thing I want to see right now.

My roots are starting to come back in again. I’ve lost a little more weight, but I don’t look much different than I did before. What did he see that made him suddenly look at me like he got a whiff of spoiled milk?

Frowning, I finally meet my own stare. I have dark circles underlining my eyes, and I’m definitely wearing my exhaustion, but I can’t look that bad.

Right?

Kev is there, shaking his head at me.

When did you get so fragile, pipsqueak? You’re so easy to break.

The very thing Enzo had said to me before.

Whatever. Fuck him, fuck Kev, and fuck them both for making me question myself.

Just as I go to storm away, I notice something odd stacked on the floor next to the mirror.

It’s a pile of clear plastic bags with a thin, long white hose coiled on top of them.

I blink. I’ve no idea what the hell their purpose is, but they are so out of place that I can only stare.

Finally, my body moves, pulling the shirt over my head and then approaching the stack of bags like a snake curled on top of them rather than a harmless tube.

There’s nothing written on them to indicate what it could be for, but upon closer inspection, I realize they’re are sewed shut save for a tiny hole, where I assume the tube is supposed to be inserted.

I flip through the rest to discover that every bag looks the same. They’re definitely handmade, and the stitches are a little wonky, but they’re all airtight save for the pocket left untouched for the tube.

I shake my head, confounded by what the hell they are, but decide they could be useful for emergencies. If we ever need to vacate the lighthouse, I can fill them with water and use them as makeshift canteens.

I grab the bags and hose and put them in our bedroom, under the bed.

I’m fully prepared to spend the rest of the night in here, but my stomach growls, and I can smell food cooking downstairs.

It wouldn’t kill me if I skipped one meal in place of enduring Enzo’s presence for even a second, but I realize that it’s not very smart. My safety isn’t guaranteed, and I will need all the energy I can get. Especially if being kept awake by a spirit throwing a very loud temper tantrum outside the door is going to become a common occurrence.

Sighing, I trudge down the steps, replaying Enzo’s nasty words in my head on repeat.

That’s not what I want to see.

Sure, we both had an extremely eventful, shitty night and are sleep-deprived, but how could he suddenly switch up on me? After he got down on his fucking knees and asked for my forgiveness for that very thing?

Even when he openly hated me, he never made me feel so… ugly. So undesirable.

If he were Kev, I would kill for him to look at me that way. To be treated like I’m no more desirable than enduring a vasectomy without anesthesia.

Anger renewed, I refuse to look at Enzo and take a seat at the dinner table, glaring at the wood like it’s the culprit for the deep ache in my chest.

After a few moments, I see Enzo approach me from my peripheral, and my muscles return to survival mode, tensing as he nears.

“Eat,” he orders sharply, nearly tossing the bowl of soup on the table. It slides and knocks against my chest, the burning liquid sloshing onto my skin. 

I grimace from the sting and push it away from me, not sure I can eat anymore. My eyes gravitate toward my body, the insecurity rising and singeing my throat.

When I glance back up, he’s staring at me with a stoic look on his face, the muscle in his jaw pulsating as he grinds his teeth. 

“I’m not hungry,” I whisper. 

He drops his head, and a flush crawls up my throat when I hear him laugh, the sound lacking humor. Sick with embarrassment, I stand so quickly that the chair tips over. His head snaps up right as I turn to bolt. Tears are welling in my eyes again, and I’m so fucking tired of crying.

I only manage a step before he’s lunging across the table and fisting my hair. In one powerful yank, I fly backward, landing painfully on the wooden table with a yelp.

I’m frozen with shock as I try to process what the hell just happened. The only thing I’m capable of is to stare at him with absolute astonishment, my eyes rounded and mouth parted. Even upside down, he looks terrifying. 

“Tell me, bella ladra, am I so unforgettable that you’ve failed to remember how deeply my cock has filled you? Or did you hit your head and lose your fucking mind?” 

I shake my head, speechless and unable to understand what the fuck that even means. 

“Whatever you thought I meant, you’re wrong,” he says, understanding that his earlier words hurt me.

I blink. “You said—”

“I know what the fuck I said, Sawyer.”

“Then why did you say it?” I snap, the anger finally re-emerging.

He leans down, the storm raging in his eyes fiercer than the one that got us in this stupid situation. 

“Because it pisses me off that I want you as badly as I do,” he growls, his voice deepened with a darkness only found in the depths of the sea.

His hand curls tighter into my hair, and sharp pinpricks pierce against my scalp. I cry out, my back arching and nails clawing at his arm in a desperate attempt to relieve the pain. 

Ignoring my struggles, his eyes rake down my body, a volcano erupting in the ocean in his eyes. “I can’t stand to look at you. Not because I don’t like what I see, Sawyer. It’s because I fucking hate how it makes me feel.”

He drags me across the table and spins me around until I’m facing him, wringing a gasp from my throat as he forces me into an upright position. I’m reeling and disoriented, so I can only gape at him when he shoves himself between my knees. 

I’m trying to make sense of what he’s saying, but I’m hypnotized by the lightning in his hazel eyes and the severe expression on his face.

“I don’t understand what happened today. You said you wouldn’t be cruel anymore.”

He reaches behind his back for something and then produces a thin, gold card.

A credit card.

The one I opened in his name. On cue, he flips it around, his full name in my face, nearly mocking me.

“I was taking the sheets off to wash this morning when I found this hiding under the mattress.”

My mouth opens, but he’s already talking, “You were hiding it from me. Why does it feel like another fucking lie, Sawyer?”

“I wasn’t keeping it so I could use it, I promise,” I swear vehemently. “It was in my back pocket when you brought me onto the boat, and somehow, it didn’t slip out from the wreck. I hid it when we first got here, and I just… I haven’t gotten rid of it yet.”

As the last word leaves my mouth, I cringe, realizing how much that sounded like a weak excuse. He’s going to think I’m lying, but for once, I’m telling the complete truth. I don’t want to lie to him anymore. I want him to see all my ugly truths and accept me anyway.

“I should’ve just tossed it in the ocean. I don’t know why I didn’t,” I admit. “But it was never with the intention to use it again.”

He tosses the flimsy plastic onto the table next to me and then plants his fists on either side of my hips, getting in my face.

The fire alarm has been switched, and any oxygen I had stored in my lungs has evacuated.

“Why do I believe you?” he asks aloud, though I’m not sure he intended for me to answer.

“I don’t want to believe you, Sawyer. Because the last time I did, you fucking hurt me.”

My lip trembles, guilt and shame crashing through me so profoundly, that it feels as if it’s rewriting my DNA. I can feel nothing—be nothing—past the damage I’ve done. Not just to Enzo but to so many innocent people.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp, a single tear wiggling loose. He tracks the drop, watching it fall from my chin and onto my bare legs. My shirt has ridden up, and though I’m still wearing my bathing suit beneath, I’ve never felt barer.

Quickly, I wipe away the evidence from my face.

“You don’t get to be the one that cries,” he tells me. “You don’t get to cry when you’re the one who ruined me.”

“You’re right. I did this to you,” I agree, blinking back more tears. I’m not crying for myself. I don’t even feel bad for myself anymore.

What I’ve gone through—what I’ve done—it’s no excuse for how I’ve chosen to survive. I’ve placed that on others’ shoulders and made strangers responsible for keeping me safe.

I’ve always known this, but this is the first time I’ve had to face the destruction that I’ve caused. It’s like a monster took over, and I’ve been lost to it as it decimated everything around me. And now, the anger has finally receded, and I’m left standing amongst the carnage, having no one to blame but myself.

“I am… so sorry,” I choke out again, praying he can see the sincerity.

Enzo inspects my face closely, picking apart every micro expression and likely searching for deception.

“I know you are,” he murmurs. “But I still don’t want to forgive you.”

I nod, understanding him, but still hating it anyway. Hating what I’ve done, but even more determined to never be that person again.

Which means that I need to tell him the complete truth about Kev.

“I understand,” I acquiesce, then pause, searching for the right words for my confession. I’ve no idea how to say it, but before I can figure it out, he’s shaking his head as if resigning himself to something.

“But I’m going to. I don’t want to be angry with you anymore, Sawyer. I did swear that I wouldn’t be cruel, but I realize now that for me to keep my promise, I’m going to have to fucking forgive you. And I’m going to have to trust you. If I’m going to give you everything you deserve, then I have to give you all of me.”

He tips his chin down, the look on his face severe. “Can I do that, bella? Can I give you all of me?”

“Yes,” I vow, the word practically tripping and tumbling out of my mouth. “I won’t ever hurt you again. I swear, Enzo.”

He’s nodding, almost as if he’s trying to come to terms with that. Then, he’s dropping his head with a sigh for a second before lifting it back to me, something different radiating from the depths of his eyes.

“You’re a goddamn siren, and I’m the fool who would gladly drown just to get a taste of you. Starve, for all I care, bella, but I will be eating tonight, and the only thing I’m hungry for is you.”

Surprise muddles my thoughts. I blink at him, ready to ask him to repeat himself just to make sure I heard him right, but when I open my mouth, he’s crashing his lips into mine.

He swallows the rest of my words with his tongue and teeth, rendering me silent as he devours my lips. Whether it’s from shock or instinct, I open my mouth and allow him in, one hand finding purchase on the table while the other grasps the back of his neck. 

My entire body lights up like a city coming out of a blackout, my nerves gridlocked with electrical currents as he claims my lips.

And with each swipe of his tongue, he erases all those ugly feelings built up inside me. He consumes me with such intensity, I don’t know how I ever believed he stopped wanting me.

“Fuck,” he mutters into my mouth before capturing my lips again. His hands grip either side of my face, sliding back into my hair and inhaling me deeper.

It feels like my heart is beating right out of my chest, aching to be free so it can run away with its lover.

I’m out of oxygen and forced to pull away, but he doesn’t let me go.

“Non ancora,” he rasps. “I need more of you.”

Then, he’s pulling me back in once more, and I forget why I ever wanted to breathe at all. His tongue sensually slides against mine, coercing it into a dance as if they’re swaying to a ballad of star-crossed lovers.

Electricity rolls down my spine, and with each kiss, I feel on the verge of combusting. We’re the perfect storm, where he is the thunder, and I am the lightning.

He grabs my hips and roughly jerks me against him, his hard cock seated between my thighs. He swallows a moan, pleasure radiating from where he presses himself into me. Curling my legs around his waist, I roll my hips against his length, seeking more. 

If I’m the siren, then he must be Poseidon, an angry god who commands my body like it’s the ocean beneath his fingertips. 

 He thrusts against me so harshly, the table screeches, the legs grinding against the wooden floor. In a matter of seconds, we’ve become unhinged with need.

By the time he rips himself away, I’m blind with lust. He pushes me flat against the wood while his other hand tears at my bikini bottoms, the strings easily unraveling from the force. 

In one movement, he lifts my hips, slings my legs over his shoulders, and crawls onto the table, my upper back sliding against the smooth surface. Another breath scarcely leaves my lips before his mouth descends onto my pussy, stealing the little oxygen I had left. 

Once more, I grind against him, eyes rolling as his tongue spears inside me. With a growl, he flattens his tongue and licks up the entirety of my slit, and I lose myself as he licks and sucks, swirling his tongue against my clit before sucking it into his mouth.

“Enzo!” I cry, my hands diving through his hair, though it’s still too short to properly grab onto. Instead, I scrape my nails across his scalp, and he growls in response, the vibrations only heightening the pleasure he’s drawing out from beneath his tongue.

He feasts on me like a man stranded on an island, deprived of food, and I’m the only thing left to eat.

The orgasm creeps up slowly and then all at once, like the jungle cat pouncing on its prey after stalking it for so long.

Enzo drives two fingers into me and curls them deeply right as I come undone. I’m unable to prepare myself for it, and the bliss is crashing through me before I can take another breath.

Scarcely, I feel a scream tear from my throat, and my vision is consumed by bright starbursts of color and light. It feels like my soul is being ripped from my body, God’s hand carrying me into Heaven.

But the ever-persistent devil is fighting for control over my fractured soul, bringing me crashing back to earth and in between his teeth.

It’s only when my vision clears that I realize my thighs are soaked, Enzo’s face even more so.

“How do you keep making me do that?” I pant. He’s not the first man to go down on me and bring me to orgasm, but I feel like fucking Pavlov’s dog, and somehow, he’s managed to train my pussy to drool for him on command.

“You’re a natural, baby. It’s just that no one has hit the right buttons,” he says, climbing off the table and dragging me with him to the edge.

I’m expecting him to remove his shorts and fuck me, but instead, he grabs my arms and jerks me upright again, a gasp falling from my tongue and feathering across his lips that are only inches from mine.

He flirts with the idea of kissing me, brushing his mouth across mine and making me desperate to taste myself on them. As if sensing that I’m preparing to tackle him, he steps away.

“Drop to your knees, bella ladra. I’ll give you everything you’ve been praying for.”

Swallowing, I shakily slide off the table and lower myself to the ground, holding his blazing stare while I do. The farther I descend, the hotter his eyes grow.

As if to test him, I tip my chin up.

“Then answer them,” I say before opening my mouth, sticking out my tongue, and awaiting his next move.

A smile stretches across his face, revealing both dimples in all their glory. It’s breathtaking but equally terrifying. The smile is nothing short of sinister, but fuck, it’s real.

He leans down, brushing the pad of his thumb over my tongue.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he croons. “How do you taste so sweet?”

I’m incapable of answering, but he doesn’t wait for one.

“Take them off,” he orders. Reaching for his waistband, I slide his shorts down and free his cock. I’m not embarrassed by the way my mouth waters at the sight. He possesses something to be worshiped.

He hooks his thumb in my bottom teeth and brings me closer until my mouth is poised at the tip where a drop of pre-cum beads, just waiting to be licked clean.

I try to move forward, but his grip on my teeth keeps me immobile. Dragging my stare up to his, I wait, unable to talk or move.

“Your words have always just been words,” he murmurs quietly. “But your silence is honest, and that’s where I always find my answers. That’s where I hear everything you don’t say.”

I want to look away, to hide, but I force myself to hold his stare.

“No more words, Sawyer,” he commands. “I want you to show me.”

Slowly, he drags his thumb out from my mouth, swiping my bottom lip roughly before releasing me completely.

He’s testing me, and I’m desperate to give him what he’s asking for.

Don’t hide, Sawyer.

Don’t run.

Just… stay.

So, I do. Without dropping my stare, I lean forward and slip my mouth over the tip of his cock. He hisses, and my eyes flutter from the salty flavor of him on my tongue, but I don’t close them. I lick him slowly, intoxicated by his taste and how he feels.

I draw his length in deeper, wetting it so I can easily slide him down my throat. His mouth parts, and his brow furrows as he stares down at me with reverence. And it’s now that I realize how much can be said in a single look—how long Enzo has been talking to me—and I’ve never stopped to listen. But he’s been listening to me all along.

Emotion floods my chest, rising up my throat as I hollow my cheeks and swirl my tongue. I suck him harder, swallowing him completely, my lips kissing his pelvis. A shudder works its way through his body and curses spill from his mouth.

I’ve never had a gag reflex, but it still makes my eyes water from the lack of oxygen. After a few moments, I retreat, a long, slow drag that earns me a few more colorful words. And still, I keep my eyes up.

Can he hear me tell him that he is the first man I could pleasure without feeling sick? Can he hear that with him, inviting a man into my body feels like a choice and not a means to survive? Does he hear me thanking him for making me feel less broken?

He must, because he fists my curls and forces my head back, and yanks me up toward him to capture my lips in a savage kiss. When he pulls back, I reach for his cock again. I wasn’t done—I want to keep pleasing him—but he evades me.

“I choose where to make you whole,” he growls, helping me to my feet and pushing me back onto the table. He grips the underside of my knees and lifts them until my feet are planted on the edge of the table.

His cock slides along my slit, and I buck my hips uncontrollably, my arms curling around his neck and molding my front into his. My entire body is trembling, and I need him close for reasons I can only say through my silence. I need to feel him.

His hips pull back enough for him to line up with my entrance, and then he pushes in slowly while capturing my bottom lip between his teeth.

I’m shaking, and the urge to cry is burning the back of my throat. My silence is screaming at him now, begging him to see me for who I am and not for what I’ve done.

His kiss deepens as he buries himself fully inside me, capturing my cry with his tongue. One hand glides through my hair and grips the back of my neck while his other arm circles around my waist, bringing me impossibly closer.

My chin trembles as he begins to slowly pump inside me, long drags out and quick thrusts in. It’s driving me wild, and I’m clawing at him to come closer, though it’s impossible for him to get any deeper.

It’s only when we’re out of breath that he releases my lips, resting his forehead against my own as we breathe each other in, trading quiet moans and sharp intakes of breath, as if anything louder will shatter whatever this is. 

“Show me, bella,” he rasps. “Show me where you hurt so I know where to love you most.”

Tears well in my eyes, but I force them back, not wanting anything to cloud my vision of him. My brows are pinched as I swallow them down, but I let him watch me fight to stay.

I let him see that he’s worth staying for.

“Mostrami come amarti,” he voices, so deep and alluring that it sends chills down my spine. I don’t know what it means, but it sounds beautiful and heartbreaking.

His pace grows rougher, quicker, and his stare blazes brighter. Sweat coats our bodies, and each brush of skin is like kindling in a fire, bringing us closer to combustion.

The bowl of soup crashes to the ground, and one side of the table slips off the carpet, the legs screeching against the wood with each thrust, making it harder and harder to keep quiet.

He feels too good, and his cock is hitting a place inside me that has my eyes rolling. My head drops back, a sob bursting from my throat. I can feel my heart falling victim, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

His teeth scrape against my neck a moment before he bites down on the flesh below my ear. I shudder as he sucks, heightening the euphoria.

I’m so close to shattering. And I’m scared for him to see those jagged pieces and decide they’re not worth bleeding for.

“Enzo,” I cry, the sound a coalescence of pain and pleasure. 

“That’s it,” he breathes, nipping at my throat again. “That’s how I want you to use my name.”

He drops his hand from my nape and slides it between our bodies. It takes only a few strokes of his finger over my clit to ignite the fuse. 

I detonate, my legs whipping around his hips and squeezing him so tightly, he can barely retreat an inch.

A growl rumbles through his chest, but I can’t feel a thing past the string of explosions letting off inside me.

Distantly, I feel him lift me up as he crawls onto the table again, allowing him the angle he needs to continue driving into me.

I cling to him, but he’s grabbing my wrists and forcing them above my head. My back arches as wave after wave continues to roll through me.

I can’t take any more, but he doesn’t relent, strumming my clit until the wave rolls back, just for another orgasm to crash into me.

There’s a scream piercing the air, but it’s swallowed by Enzo’s lips. He moves his hand out from between us and grabs ahold of my hip. And then he’s stilling, a savage growl reverberating throughout my throat as he reaches his own decimation.

His grip on my wrists and hip turn bruising, but I hardly notice as he mindlessly slams into me, spilling inside me as he does.

I’m not sure how much time passes before we both go boneless. He manages to catch his weight before he crushes me, but I don’t think I’d even mind. I already feel like my soul is only holding on to its vessel purely out of pity. 

Just as he goes to sit up, there’s a loud groan, followed by a crack, and then I’m suddenly weightless.

This time when I scream, it’s from fright as the table completely collapses beneath us. It happens too fast for either of us to properly react. The landing knocks the breath from my lungs, while Enzo spits out a curse.

We just stare at each other, wide-eyed and in shock. And then a choked laugh escapes me.

We broke the fucking table. Like… Humpty Dumpty bad. There’s no putting it back together.

Enzo’s chin drops, and he lets out a slow breath. I’m full-out cackling now, and his shoulders are shaking with mirth. When he lifts his head, the most beautiful smile is spread across his face, and it feels like my heart skids and crashes as hard as this table just did. It lights up his entire face, and his hazel eyes gleam as he stares at me with affection.

“Why did you kiss me?” I wonder aloud, enraptured by how fucking radiant he is when he’s happy.

His smile drops, but the intensity in his stare only brightens. He hovers over me, planting his hands on either side of my head and caging me in.

This… this is the only cage I want to be in.

“There’s a place in the ocean, so deep, where not a single point of light penetrates through it. And for so long, I’ve been trapped there, unable to breathe. When I met you, you lifted me out of that darkness, and it was the first time I came up for air. You’ve become my oxygen, bella ladra, and I can no longer breathe without you.”

My heart bursts from my chest, and now it feels like I can’t breathe. I’ve never wanted someone to love me, but I do now. God, do I want him to love me.

“Beautiful thief,” I murmur, recalling what his nickname means. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

He studies me closely, that affection still present as he leans closer, brushing his nose against mine while a grin pulls his lips up once more.

“You are a thief, baby. You stole my name, and now you’ve taken my heart, too. Demand anything else from me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I don’t dese—”

He grabs me by the jowls, roughly pinching my cheeks into my teeth. “Being loved by me will hurt like hell. It’s everything you deserve.”

Then, he declares passionately, “I love you, and you will love me.”

I’m convinced I’m dying, yet it’s the happiest I’ve ever been.

“I do. I do love you,” I respond, almost on autopilot. Of course, it comes out jumbled and feels funny, considering my cheeks are still crushed between his fingers, and I have fish lips.

But it’s worth it because it pulls another full-forced smile on his face as he releases me. And again, my chest is caving in, and I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

For whatever reason, he’s ready to forgive me. But I haven’t earned that yet. Not until he knows everything.

The happiness slips from my face, and when he notices my change in demeanor, his does, too.

“What’s wrong, bella?”

“I killed him,” I whisper.

Enzo jerks back in shock. “What?”

I bite my lip, gathering the little courage I possess.

“I killed Kevin,” I say again.

His mouth parts, and it takes him a few beats to catch on to what I’m saying. 

“You said he was after you.”

I shake my head, tears once more burning the backs of my eyes. “The police are after me—his friends. Not because I steal identities or because Kev is trying to find me, but because I killed a cop. I murdered my twin brother.”