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This is my fault.
I made too many wrong moves.
Now, it’s time I fix them.
“Calm down, nephew,” Sonny says, heaving out a sigh. “He won’t kill her.”
“Where’s Amara?” my mother asks.
If I wasn’t adamant on keeping my eyes on Gigi, I’d stare at her coldly.
The air in the room is tight with betrayal and violence.
“I can take her to safety,” she continues.
If she’s looking for Amara, that means no one has found her. I need to make sure it stays that way.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” I sneer, my jaw ticking. “You’re a disgrace to the Lombardi name. Both of you are.”
Gigi has stopped fighting while she listens to our conversation.
Billy’s gun is still on her, but he isn’t applying the pressure he had moments ago.
“No, I’m a survivor,” my mother corrects. “It’s in your best interest to surrender to Sonny. He’ll help you slaughter the Marchettis, and then you can lead the family together.”
Even with her mouth covered, Gigi immediately starts talking shit at the mention of her family, but no one can make out her words. When she realizes this, she does a weird version of flipping my mother the bird while also tied up.
I shift my gaze to Sonny, staring at him in repulsion, and ignore the gun pointed at my face. “Let Gigi go. This is between you and me.”
“Oh, nephew, did you forgetyou and meare at war with the Marchettis, the very person you’re trying to protect right now?” Sonny asks. “You kidnapped Cristian’s daughter, for God’s sake, Antonio. Why do you care what I do with her?”
A chill runs through me.
Enemy or not, Gigi has tucked herself into my heart.
Consumed me.
Even if I tried to remove her from it, I’d die anyway.
Sonny smirks at my silence. “Oh, that’s right. For those who don’t know, Antonio is obsessed with the Marchetti cunt. He didn’t only take her as revenge against our rival family; he took her because he wanted to fuck and keep her as a little pet. Isn’t that right, nephew?”
All my self-restraint is gone.
Fucking perished.
I move my gun, pointing it at him now.
His smirk drops before he grabs my mother and plants his Glock against her skull—the same way he did in her kitchen the night I learned she was a traitor.
“What the hell, Sonny?” my mother yells, waving her body from side to side to break loose. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
Sonny laughs at the fact that he played her again. “You never knew the real plan, bitch.” His attention slips to me. “How about we play a game, nephew?”
“You know I’m not one to play games, Sonny,” I grit out.
“Put your gun down, and I’ll tell you the rules.”
“Fuck off.”
