Consumed by Truths

  Consumed by Truths

  Truth or Lies Book 6

  Ella Miles

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Enzo

  2. Kai

  3. Enzo

  4. Kai

  5. Enzo

  6. Kai

  7. Enzo

  8. Kai

  9. Enzo

  10. Kai

  11. Enzo

  12. Kai

  13. Enzo

  14. Kai

  15. Enzo

  16. Kai

  17. Enzo

  18. Kai

  19. Enzo

  20. Kai

  21. Enzo

  22. Kai

  23. Enzo

  24. Kai

  25. Enzo

  26. Kai

  27. Kai

  28. Kai

  Epilogue

  Free Books

  Also by Ella Miles

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Kai

  I thought death was my greatest enemy.

  I thought nothing could be worse.

  I thought death was the ultimate end.

  I couldn’t be more wrong.

  Death isn’t the end.

  It isn’t the enemy.

  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  Death isn’t what broke my heart—Enzo did.

  He’s broken my heart so many times before.

  He’s let me down.

  Let me get hurt.

  But those times were nothing compared to how I feel now—that pain was nothing.

  Because when he broke my heart before, we weren’t in love. We didn’t have a child on the way. We weren’t facing our greatest enemy.

  I’m not mad. It’s not Enzo’s fault he couldn’t stay away. It’s not his fault he didn’t know the risks. It’s not his fault he didn’t know why I hid away, pretending to be dead.

  But of course, Enzo found me.

  How could he not?

  We’ve been drawn together from the start. Like two trains on a collision course. We’ve been going full speed toward each other, damn the consequences. Somehow, we’ve managed to avoid the derailment, the explosion, the end. But we can’t avoid it anymore. We can’t stop ourselves from colliding.

  We’ve both tried applying the brakes. We’ve tried heading in different directions. But somehow, we always find our way back to the other.

  And when we meet, it’s not a gentle embrace; we mix together like fire and ice. And the quake we cause can be felt for miles around.

  We aren’t good for each other.

  We aren’t good for our baby.

  We aren’t good for the company.

  We aren’t good for the world.

  But that doesn’t stop us.

  Nothing can. We can’t stop ourselves.

  Both of us have tried to stop loving the other. We’ve pretended to hate each other. We’ve tried living apart. But we can’t. Our attraction to each other is too great.

  But I thought this time, we’d remain apart. I thought the illusion of death would separate us. That’s what’s in wedding vows after all: ‘…til death do us part.’

  Death is supposed to be the end.

  It’s supposed to part us.

  But in this case, death didn’t part us. It didn’t end us. Our love is too great for death to get in the way.

  Enzo found me.

  He found me.

  I was dead.

  But it didn’t stop him from searching. It didn’t stop him from feeling me everywhere. It didn’t stop him from loving me.

  The problem with love like ours is that it is all-consuming.

  We can’t think, breathe, or exist without the other.

  We need our love to live.

  So Enzo didn’t have a choice but to find me. He couldn’t live without me. And I was barely living without him.

  He found me.

  I should have been ecstatic. Jumping for joy. Floating on a cloud. Feeling all the cheesy metaphors.

  My heart should have been whole. Instead, he broke it deeper.

  The only thing keeping my heart beating was that I had finally found a way to protect all the people I loved. I was protecting my baby and protecting Enzo.

  But then Enzo returned, crashing back into my life, and I knew we would never be the same.

  Death isn’t the end. Nothing can keep Enzo and me apart.

  But the world is going to wish that death did. That we were truly over and gone. Because Enzo is about to set the globe on fire with our vengeance, and I’m going to turn anyone in our way into ice.

  Because even though my heart is breaking, knowing I can’t protect Enzo, it won’t stop me from taking on the world to meld our hearts together. Mine is forever broken without Enzo. And I’ve realized the only way to heal is to put our broken pieces together.

  The world may wish I had stayed dead. But the world should have known there is no killing a love like ours.

  One of us must die, so the other can live.

  The words of my father haunt me.

  But I don’t fear them anymore.

  Because dying to protect the man I love is exactly how our story should end—not with a happily ever after. Such a thing doesn’t exist in our world. Our love story ends with sacrifice, an epic end.

  A finale only our love is worthy of.

  1

  Enzo

  The world has gone dark.

  Like the entire world decided to flick off their lightswitches all at the same time, and agreed to never turn them back on. All I’ve seen for weeks is darkness.

  There is no electricity.

  No light guiding my way.

  Not even a sunrise to greet me in the morning.

  The world is dark.

  Or maybe the world hasn’t literally turned the lights off. I’m sure the sun has risen. If not, we’d all be dead, but I haven’t seen it. I have a filter over my eyes. A haze that prevents me from seeing the light.

  My mother is gone.

  My father is gone.

  Pietro and Milo are gone.

  Zeke is gone.

  Liesel is gone.

  Langston is gone.

  I’m familiar with death. Used to losing those I love. That list is short compared to the countless number of men and women who have died fighting to protect me.

  I should be used to dealing with death.

  But I don’t think death is something that anyone really gets used to. Because each death of someone you love leaves a permanent mark on your soul. A black spot you can never remove. And from my short list of loved ones alone, my soul must be mostly black at this point.

  None of those deaths cast my soul into permanent blackness, however. Because only one person matters. My heart beats for only one person, even though she’s gone. My heart will never stop being hers.

  Kai.

  Kai is gone.

  Our child—gone.

  She’s everything I’ve been fighting for. Everything I’ve done has been for her.

  And now she’s gone.

  No, not gone. That word implies she will return. That she is simply off somewhere on vacation and will return one day.

  Kai is dead.

  Dead—I’ve never hated a word so much.

  But I’m not going to war against the word. I’m going to war against the world.

  Because the world let her die. The world didn’t protect her. The world had the most beautiful, strong woman, and it let her die.

  I slam my hand hard down into the wheel of the yacht I’m driving. I hear the bones crunch, the tendons snap, and blood explode beneath my skin. But I don’t feel the pain.

  I’m numb to pain. Because I’m not mad at the world, I’m mad at myself.<
br />
  I failed Kai—again.

  I’ve failed so many fucking times.

  So many times.

  But I won’t again.

  Because I can’t fail her anymore.

  She’s dead.

  There is nothing left to protect.

  No one left to save.

  If I thought killing myself would be enough to avenge her death, I would already be dead. But it’s not enough. I may not have been able to protect her, not strong enough to save her. But then, saving others was never my strongest skill.

  I learned a long time ago how to live in the shadows. Not just live, but thrive. Now that there is no more light in my world, I will flourish. I will slink through the darkness. I am a ghost. No one will see me coming. I will kill every person who let this happen.

  Felix is at the top of my list, but he will be the last to die. He thinks he doesn’t fear death. He doesn’t—not now. Because he has nothing to lose. Nothing he loves left.

  So I will wait. I’ll be patient. I’ll watch, stalk him like he stalked me. I will wait until he falls in love. And then I will take it from him. Only then will he fear death. Not his own, but of the person he loves.

  Everyone else though—his team, my own crew that followed him instead of being loyal to me—they are all fair game. And I will enjoy the hunt.

  The world will burn, that will be the only light I see in the weeks to come. The light of my fire will be all I leave behind.

  I’ve been sailing this yacht for weeks. Chasing cowards as they run for the farthest, most distant places on Earth.

  They can run. But I will find them. All of them. And they will pay for what they did. For their betrayal. For their disloyalty. They will all pay the ultimate price.

  I grip the wheel tighter as the rain comes down in sheets. The waves rock high then low. And the wind does its best to flip my ship over—not going to happen.

  I’ve had years of experience steering a boat. I’ve faced the worst storms imaginable. The weather won’t stop me.

  Most sailors would say you should never take to the ocean alone. You have no idea what dangers you will face. You have no idea how the tides will turn against you.

  But after what happened, I prefer to be alone. I can’t trust anyone, not anymore. Everyone I ever trusted is dead.

  From now on, I do everything alone. I can’t trust anyone else so I won’t. I don’t need anyone but me.

  I can move much faster on my own. I can disappear into the shadows if I’m just one person. And I don’t have to worry if the men and women who work for me are on my side or not.

  I’m sure Archard survived. I’m sure he’ll come at me with contracts and papers, trying to get me to complete the final task so I can earn the rightful title of Mr. Black, ruler of an empire of men, women, weapons, technology, ships.

  I don’t want any of it. I will never trust a person again. I will never trust my own team to be loyal to me. And I don’t need any new weapons or technology to kill those who have betrayed me.

  And I sure as hell don’t need the money.

  If Archard comes anywhere near me with contracts and rules about taking over as Black, I’ll kill him.

  I’m already Black—Enzo Black. I was born Enzo Black, and I’ll die Enzo Black. I don’t need to win a fucking competition and jump through hoops like a circus animal in order to lay claim to my own last name.

  Felix wants the empire. He wants to rule the men. He craves the power. But I’m going to destroy everything, so there will be nothing left for him to rule.

  I spot a ship in the distance. The sky is dark, and so is the ocean. The rain still falls hard, which should make it impossible to see, but I know it’s one of my yachts.

  The yacht is dark, with no lights on, but I can see the outline of it through the dark. I can see the Black name etched on the side. But more than what I can see, I have a gut feeling deep inside that this is one of my yachts. And that is what guides me.

  I shut off my own engine—a risky move considering I won’t be able to steer without the engines running. I’ll be at the mercy of the waves as I drift closer to the other boat. But somehow I think the ocean is on my side tonight.

  The ocean and I have always gotten along—partly because I respected it and never tried to conquer it like most men do. But tonight I’m going to test that relationship more than I ever have.

  The storm coming down all around me could mean my end. But I don’t fear death. I welcome it.

  I descend flights of stairs to the room that should be my bedroom, although I can’t recall the last time I’ve slept. Instead, I pass out wherever I sit with a bottle of whiskey in my hand.

  But tonight, I might sleep well for the first time in weeks. Because tonight, I get my first taste of revenge.

  My bed is covered in weapons—guns, knives, bullets. I load up my favorite guns and ensure the knives have been sharpened.

  Each time I grab for a weapon, I see the scrunchie around my wrist. The only thing left of Kai is a scrunchie she wore to remember a different man. A wooden heart I carved for her hangs from it.

  The scrunchie represents so much more than my loss of Kai or Zeke. It represents everything taken from me. This scrunchie was never meant to be more than a nice gesture that Zeke gave to Kai. Something to keep her hair back while she fought. It wasn’t meant to be carried around everywhere like a memorial.

  But somehow everything we have ever given each other becomes a memorial to the dead. Everyone in my life dies; that’s the one thing I know for sure. It’s why I know my enemies will die.

  I feel the fabric of the scrunchie between my thumb and finger.

  “I will not fail you,” I say. I won’t fail any of them.

  I run up the stairs, armed with weapons and a broken heart beating for revenge.

  The yacht rocks, the kind of rocking that should knock me on my ass, but my feet are too steady to let something that simple derail me.

  My boots hit the open top deck, drenched in rain, the wind trying to push me back down. But I don’t move.

  Do your best rain. Nothing can fucking stop me.

  I peer through the rain to the other yacht. The engines are still running, but whoever is steering it has little or no experience steering a boat through weather like this.

  I grin.

  I have the advantage.

  I walk to the edge of my yacht. I consider jumping in and swimming to the other yacht. I’m a good enough swimmer, and I feel like, for the first time ever, the world is on my side. The weather may be trying to fight against me, but it’s actually helping me. Because I can handle the weather—they can’t.

  I have a different idea in mind. One that won’t involve me drinking a crap ton of saltwater.

  I head back to the helm. I fire up the engines and start driving toward the doomed ship.

  I never thought I would ram one of my own ships, but that seems to be the direction I’m headed in.

  At least I’ll make them think I’m willing to ram my own ship.

  I turn my lights on full force, ensuring they see the devil heading straight toward them. They will know I’m coming, and there is nothing they can do about it.

  Faster my yacht drives toward theirs. Closer, closer. I see men huddled together on the bridge. All bickering and grabbing the helm randomly trying to fight the waves to get out of my way. But there is nothing they can do to stop me from coming for them. For every single one of them.

  When I’m close enough that the collision is inevitable, I let go of the wheel and march out into the rain. So they can see clearly who their attacker is.

  The impact hits.

  Our yachts slam into each other with a loud screech—the sound of scraping metal rings in the air.

  The sound soothes my broken soul. I don’t even care about my precious yachts anymore. They all deserve to be cast down to the depths of the ocean. I even blame my ships for Kai’s death. They didn’t save her either.

  I watch as men fall over
board into the choppy water, most likely to their deaths.

  Men I would have jumped into the water to save before. They were my crew. I would have risked my life for them; I would have died for them.

  But now, I wouldn’t risk my pinky finger to save them.

  I walk forward to where our ships are locked together. I step across the gap and onto their ship. The sky still rains down on me; the wind whips through me. I should be freezing from chilled water; instead, I burn of fire.

  I walk straight to the bridge, calmly withdraw my favorite gun, and fire.

  The rain makes it easier for me to kill them. I shoot them dead before they can even lift their weapons in my direction. But it makes each kill less personal, and this is as personal as it gets.

  I should torture each and every one of them before I kill them. But I don’t have the energy. And I have far too many men to kill to waste time with torture.

  I fire over and over—through the rain.

  The only indications I’ve hit my targets are when each man falls to the ground in a heap.

  Not one man has fired back at me.

  Not one man has fought back.

  I feel invincible in this moment. Maybe I’m really not capable of dying. Which would be a shame since I feel like dying. I need the end to come. I need to return to the ground, or maybe the sea—become worm or fish food.

  I march into the boat's decks, taking out man after man. The rain no longer provides me cover in the depths of the ship, so a few men get shots off before they succumb. But they all die.

  I step over a body as I walk to the back of the ship, where I find no more traitors. Everyone is dead.

  I walk through the entire ship twice, ensuring I didn’t miss a single person.