The Counterfeit Lover (War of Sins Book 3)
The Counterfeit Lover: Chapter 3

Guilt ravages Raf’s face as Michele brings up the past. He recounts how Raf betrayed him, watching him get raped by their cousin and doing nothing. He had been the one to suggest that Michele tell the adults what was happening under their noses, but when he’d mustered up the courage to do so, Raf had in turn denied everything.

That had broken Michele.

But it had been just the start.

Raf looks ill the more his brother speaks, and it’s clear there’s a semblance of truth there, as much as it pains me to admit. But when Michele mentions the abuse he endured at school, Raf’s head whips in his direction, a look of pure shock enveloping him. He shakes his head.

Raf…

My heart bleeds for him and everything that happened in their childhood.

But I am certain my Raf would never spread rumors about Michele at school so he could get gang raped by his classmates. That is so horrific to even imagine, that I doubt anyone would be that evil.

‘So you see, Rafaelo, I already did you a favor when I left you alive. You should have stayed far, far away from me and from New York and we would have never gotten to this point,’ Michele says flippantly.

Does he even realize how much he revealed in that one sentence? The fact that against all odds he didn’t kill his brother.

Suddenly, all the previous events play before my eyes. Raf had been attacked for the bounty on his head, but it had never been at Michele’s express orders. If anything…Michele could have killed him whenever he wanted, regardless of my brother’s protection.

If he wanted to…

But I have the impression he doesn’t want to.

And that is…interesting.

Michele tells us his version of events, but he doesn’t go in too much depth, seemingly still affected about what happened in the past. He does, however, emphasize that Nicolo had been the only one to take him in when everyone else had abandoned him.

The more he talks, the more I feel sorry for him, and I know Raf feels the same. Yet no matter how guilty or not my husband may be, I could never turn against him. There’s still his side of the story. And even then, I don’t think Raf could do anything for me to abandon him.

My tongue peeks out to lick my chapped lips. My body is still reeling from being electrocuted, and a bitter taste of disappointment coats my mind at being reminded that Raf hadn’t been able to answer those questions correctly.

He doesn’t realize, does he? That he is my entire world—has been from the beginning. Each burst of pain brings into focus more what he means to me and unveils more of the things we experienced.

Does he really think that my independence is more important than him?

‘I don’t know what happened at school,’ Raf starts, ‘but I didn’t…’

Michele cuts him off.

‘I didn’t invite you to speak, Rafaelo. In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t a tribunal to judge who’s right or wrong. This is simply the consequence of your mistakes and the fact that you couldn’t just stay gone. Save your words.’

‘Michele…’

‘Let’s go to the last trial, shall we? I think you’ll find it infinitely more interesting than the last ones. After all, when are you going to have these two ladies in the same room again?’ Michele chuckles.

Suddenly, the man who’d been doling out the electric shocks leaves.

Michele had only told me his plan in vague terms, so I have no idea what to expect. Especially as I continue to peruse Raf’s face, starved for his presence.

A few days. Just a few days and I’ve felt his absence to the core of my being. It might seem odd that someone I’ve only known for such a short period of time would become so essential to my existence, but he has. I stopped questioning the situation when I realized the lengths I would go to for him—for him to be mine.

My greedy eyes take him in, with his blonde hair swept back from his face, his bronzed skin and those blue, blue eyes that always made my heart skip a beat. Those eyes that are the reason I wake up in the morning.

Choose me.

Maybe Michele was right. Maybe this is more than love—maybe it’s bordering on obsession. My pulse flutters at that thought, my breathing growing labored as flashes appear before my eyes. Scenes morph into episodes until I’m left with a different reality—one that both excites and terrifies me.

Choose me.

He looks jittery and anxious, his features steeped in pain as he awaits Michele’s instructions.

Does he have a hard time deciding? Is he weighting his options?

He must know that ultimately he will have to make a choice, regardless of what Michele has planned. That was the entire purpose of this spectacle.

‘Let’s get this over with,’ Raf grits his teeth.

‘Wonderful,’ Michele exclaims. ‘This last trial is a little more tricky though. Or, should I say life and death?’ he chuckles to himself.

Raf stiffens at his words, but I can see he’s doing his best to not betray too much.

But I know. I always know. I see every slightly move, every twitch in his jaw, every eye motion and I know.

He’s fighting himself.

‘What did you have in mind?’

His eyes rove over the wall in front of him, and I have to wonder if he can still see us—if he can see the anguish on my face at the thought that he would forsake me for another.

‘Rather simple. You see, each one of those ladies partook in the meals I supplied. That in turn means they are currently in the digestion stage of a very potent poison that will reach their bloodstream and kill them in about…’ he pauses for dramatic effect. ‘Fifteen minutes. Unless you administer the antidote, of course. But there is only one.’

I breathe out lightly. I hadn’t expected that and I should have. Of course Michele wouldn’t just take a gun and shoot us, or do anything of that nature. Since his objective is psychological torture, what better way to stretch Raf to his limit than by offering the simplest choice.

He’ll decide who dies and who survives—by his own hand.

Raf’s mouth opens and closes as his fists clench in anger. He’s trying to control himself, but I can see he’s on the verge of exploding.

Choose me.

‘On the table before you, you’ll find a syringe with the antidote in it. Once you’ve decided who you’ll save and who you’ll damn, simply go through the door to your right. You’ll find there everything you need,’ Michele laughs before his transmission ends. But not before the screen also flickers shut.

Panic unlike any other erupts in my gut at not being able to see him—to gauge his feelings. I’m now totally blind in this and I don’t like it.

I try to control my breathing, but nothing works.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. And now…

Andreas removes Lucero’s blindfold and ear mufflers before leaving the room as well.

I turn my head, my gaze making contact with Lucero’s. There’s regret in her eyes, and something more. But I can’t dwell on that. Not when it’s me or her. And this is not just survival. No, this is about who gets Raf.

No one else can get him.

A sharp pain develops in my left side, and I belatedly realize it’s my heart seizing in the face of these implications—in the face of the fact that I may lose him forever.

And that’s simply out of the question.

I struggle to breathe and my body starts spasming, the hum of errant electricity clogging my ears and drowning me in a sea of what-ifs.

But as my senses shut down on me, as my sight and hearing cease to function, it’s to see things through my mind’s eye, listen to sounds long forgotten.

Another succession of images appears before me, all showing me one thing—the me before, the true me.

I see the love and the passion. But I also see something else.

Destruction. So much destruction.

All in the name of love.

All in the name of that eternal love.

I’m hyperventilating from an overload of sensations, of skin on top of skin, sweaty bodies, bloody bodies. But there’s more. Beneath it all, there’s sweet, sweet love.

And guilt.

So much fucking guilt.

My eyes snap open.

In one second, I see my entire life to that point.

I see my young self, with dreams and hopes.

I see those hopes dashed, the entirety of my soul crushed.

But there’s one hope.

Throughout it all, there’s one hope keeping me alive.

Him.

Always him.

Even when I didn’t know it. It was always him.

My sweet, sweet love. My dangerous love.

A door swings open, Raf sauntering in, his eyes wide, his entire body stiff. His gaze swings between Lucero and I, a harsh look crossing his face as he takes another step inside the room.

Raf…

His name is a whisper on my lips.

I could speak out. I could tell him everything. But I won’t.

It wouldn’t matter anymore, would it?

No, I want him to love me for me—for the me now before he even attempts to love me for the me in the past. I want him to look at me and see his wife.

And he does.

He looks at me and my heart bursts in my chest at the sadness I read in his eyes. The weariness. The guilt. The torture.

His soul is crying. It’s there for me to see and feel.

Because my soul is crying too. It’s weeping tears of blood at everything that happened; at everything I see in his gaze that is echoed in my own.

Anguish clings to him like a second skin.

I don’t think anyone else can recognize the turmoil in him more than I do. I’ve become so proficient at reading him that every single expression is worth more than a thousand words. And in that moment, I realize things I couldn’t when the veil of despair had clouded my senses. I see the love that was always there—and the pain at my rejection. I see everything he’s feeling.

More than anything, I see the indecision.

And regardless of the love, that uncertain struggle that paints his features cuts me deep on the inside. So deep, I know I’m on the verge of doing something bad.

Something really, really bad.

The clock is ticking.

The fifteen minutes Michele had told us we have left are slowly trickling by.

Ten more minutes left.

I meet Raf’s eyes in a last attempt to communicate to him my desperation—the fact that there can only be him and I.

No one else. Not now, nor ever.

He averts his gaze, a dagger to my chest.

Moving deeper into the room, he has the syringe clutched in his hand as his eyes move over my form before focusing on Lucero.

No… No, no, no. This cannot be happening.

Sweat accumulates on my forehead, as my already irregular breathing becomes out of control. I can hear my pulse in my ears, the drumming of it maddening as I stare at the image before me.

He’s not even looking at me as he takes one step. Then another. Until he’s standing right in front of Lucero.

Her eyes widen as she looks up at him, her mouth parted as she’s about to say something.

Without any preliminaries, Raf jabs the syringe in her thigh, pushing the liquid inside into her body.

Saving her.

Damning me.

I blink.

There’s clamoring noise at first. Slowly, though, everything dissipates until there’s an eerie calm inside of me. No more inner voices, no more flashes of the past.

The wall finally shatters, the remaining crumbs dissipating into thin air.

It’s just me.

The me now. The me that’s the sum of every past mistake, of every past event.

There’s just only one me left.

The one who cut a deal with Michele. The cynical one who prepared for this very moment.

It only takes one moment for everything to set in.

Raf barely has time to remove the syringe from her body when I’m out of my chair, out of my bounds.

My hand reaches for the knife stashed under the chair and without even contemplating the consequences of my actions, I do it.

I move even as my name on his lips becomes an echo in the chamber. I move until I’m standing right behind her.

And with practiced movements, I bring the sharp blade to her neck, cutting from ear to ear and watching with glee as blood gushes out  in rivulets.

Lucero struggles to speak, the cut making it impossible for her to do anything but wait for the blood to be drained of her body.

It’s a matter of seconds before she slumps again against her chair, her eyes dead, her body unmoving.

Raf is frozen to the spot in front of me, his expression one of horror as he looks at me like he can’t recognize who I am.

‘You…’ he trails off, taking a step back.

My smile dies on my lips as I realize that instead of accomplishing my goal of making sure no one other than me got him, I did something else entirely.

I disgust him.

I terrify him.

‘You’re a monster,’ he shakes his head at me, continuing to back away.

‘Raf, I…’ I try to speak, but the look in his eyes is enough to tell me everything that I need to know.

The me now isn’t the me he loves. The me now is…something else.

If before I wanted to make sure he’d always be mine, now I just want to erase that expression from his face, beg him to look at me like he did before.

My bloodied hands reach out for him only to see him recoil.

And then I’m wrenched back to the present. Back to the fact that I haven’t moved from my chair, my arms and legs are still tied to the chair, the knife Michele had placed under my chair is still there.

I hadn’t moved.

Startling clarity seeps in as I realize the me before him is not the me he loves—it’s not one he would ever love.

And so I’m left staring at him. Staring at everything within my grasp but forever out of reach.

Five minutes.

According to the clock, that’s all I have left.

‘Raf,’ I whisper, my throat so dry it’s physically painful to get the word out.

His face whips back to me, his expression stunning me.

He looks…scared to death.

And that’s when I see that he’s also counting down the minutes. He’s also waiting for something.

Lucero speaks, but I can’t hear.

Everything converges into one focal point—his gaze.

Those eyes I’d once given my life for.

To my biggest surprise, he’s just as affected as I am, returning my stare with the same intensity. He doesn’t acknowledge whatever Lucero is saying. He doesn’t even glance at her.

He’s only seeing me.

God, but he looks as if he’s aged ten years in just a few minutes.

Tears stab at my eyes as I will him to come to me. Touch me one last time.

The knife under my chair is always at the back of my mind, as is the plan to do something.

Would I? What would I do?

He comes closer. Slowly, reluctantly. His shoulders are slumped as if he’s carrying the entire weight of the world on them. And he is. He’s carrying the weight of my sins—of our sins.

‘Raf,’ I speak again just as he reaches my side.

I want to ask him to hug me, touch me, kiss me. Give me one last memory before I step foot into hell.

And the question is there—it’s always there.

Would I take him with me?

His knees give out as he drops before me, his hands hesitantly reaching out to touch my shoulders.

‘Noelle,’ he rasps, his voice thick and heavy, like a nail pinned to a coffin. ‘I…’ he starts, his eyes moistened with tears. His mouth is parted, his face shadowed by fear and terror.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. He doesn’t look like a man who’s made the right choice. He looks like a man terrified he made the wrong one.

‘Raf, what…’

I don’t get to ask the question as a piercing noise dissipates the fog encroaching on my mind.

We both simultaneously turn towards Lucero. Her mouth is agape, her body spasming as one after another, shrilling screams are wrenched from her throat.

Her whole body is seizing, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she trembles wildly against her bounds.

What…

It goes on for a few minutes.

Harsh screams of pain before deafening silence.

Just as it began, it ended.

Raf moves as if on an automated pilot, going to her side and placing two fingers on the pulse point at her neck.

‘Dead,’ he declares after a moment, his eyes closing as he releases a deep, disappointed breath.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

The word echoes in my head, barely registering.

I’m one step away from losing it—one step away from closing my mind to reality and everything around me. But that one word keeps me from slipping.

On the precipice, it functions as a beckon to lure me back.

She’s dead. That means…

He chose me.

Michele planned this from the beginning, didn’t he? I would be laughing at his audacity if it wasn’t my life on the line. If Raf wasn’t the smart man I know him to be.

Even so, this was all a gamble. A simple throw of the coin.

‘She’s dead,’ he exhales in relief, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Quietly, he comes to my side, tearing at the rope that holds me chained to the chair and freeing my aching limbs.

All throughout he’s quiet.

And that’s when more panic sets in.

Is that…what he intended? Did he mean to kill her? Did he…

I can’t help the way my mind goes into overdrive, but I need him to spell it out for me. It’s not enough that she’s dead and I’m not. I need him to tell me he chose me.

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