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We nod to each other, then he walks over to Maddie. They share a hug, and he whispers something in her ear. She gives him one of those double cheeked kisses before they part ways.
We walk out with her father, who doesn’t seem pleased about the situation at hand.
“And you’re sure the house isn’t bugged?” he inquires.
“I know for a fact it’s not. I swept it myself while Maddalena was napping. All of my homes are armed and protected to the nines. I’d like to see someone try to get in.”
“Papà, even without the evidence, I know I’m right,” she tells him. “My gut is telling me we have a rat.”
“I believe it—you have your mother’s intuition,” he says around a humorless laugh.
As we step out of the door, the sound of a bullet whistles through the air. I pull Maddalena down to the ground, and a guard tries to shield Don Vettore, but it’s too late. He falls to the ground. A red stain ripples through his white dress shirt, soaking it and his suit jacket. Pandemonium breaks out as everyone tries to find the assailant.
Maddalena kneels over her father’s body, pressing her hands over the wound. “It h-h-had to be a sniper. The bullet hole is too small for a close range shot,” she says through chattering teeth and shaking limbs.
“I’ll take over, you need to get out of here,” Luca gently pushes her to the side. “Go, someone will send you an update on Papà.”
“Come on, we have to move,” I tell her as I try to pry her away, but she won’t budge. She isn’t responding to me.
“Mads, MADS!” Max shouts, finally breaking her shocked state. “I promise I will keep you updated. That bullet could have been meant for you. Get out of here.”
She still won’t move, so I throw her over my shoulder and take cover behind a shipping container. A minute later, I see Rocco’s car pull up.
I hustle her into the back seat, then take the empty front seat. He speeds off, peeling out of the lot. “Where are we heading to?”
“My house. Maddalena and I are going to a home I have in the UK. Until this is settled, I can’t believe she’s reasonably safe here.”
I hear her softly crying in the back seat, trying her hardest to hide it. Her cousin does too. Every few minutes, I see him glancing at her through the rearview mirror. The ride is fairly silent, which gives me time to plan.
I need to contact Whit or Fitzpatrick to get us a private plane chartered for Cardiff. That way, we can lay a false trail. From there, we can travel to my home in Northern Ireland. It’s a cottage in the middle of nowhere surrounded by farms, cows, and nothing more for miles around. No one will find us there.
But first I have to pack the basics. Fake passports, tracking devices in case we get separated, burner phones, and guns. I can pack Maddalena a knife, too.
Rocco drops us off, and I sit my kitten down on the living room couch. When I kiss her cheeks, she shudders.
“Hey,” I say, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. “I’m packing us with essentials. We have to go ASAP.”
“Do you think my father is okay?” she asks, her voice a weak whisper.
I don’t want to lie to her, but I need her to perk up and have some hope. “If anyone can survive a sniper’s bullet to the chest, it’s Don Vettore. The legend who put New York City’s major families into an eternal peace. The man who made you. I know he’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes are wide and fearful, but she nods slightly.
“I’ll bring down an outfit for you to change into.”
As I riffle through my closet and hidden storage, I weigh the gravity of what happened. The most powerful crime boss in the country may have just been assassinated. The entire New York underworld is going to be in chaos soon. There’s a rogue stalker after the woman I love, possibly the entirety of the Yedinstvo.
And it’s up to me to protect her. I swore on my life I’d protect my little killer, because without her, there is no me. She’s the fucking air I breathe and the blood that keeps my black heart pumping. I’ll keep her safe or die trying.
Maddalena
How long have I been sitting here?
My attention keeps wavering, and I can’t stop crying. The second the bullet pierced Papà’s chest, my entire world shattered around me. I watched my hero fall to his knees today. I saw the blood all over his chest and the light leave his eyes. He may be… I can’t even think it. My stomach churns at the very idea, and I feel like I’m about to be sick.
There’s no way that Don Vettore is dead. He can’t be. I still need him. We all do. I can’t lose my papà yet.
And the worst part is that it’s all my fault. I’m the one who turned down Dmitri’s marriage proposal. I’m the one who rubbed it in his face. Had I been like any other mafia daughter, my father wouldn’t have a bullet in his chest right now. He’d be alive and well with Mama, reading books together in the library. Or sitting on their back terrace.
