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Of course it is.
Anger boils over in my heart. “Yes. Find out where they came from. How they got here. What the fuck they want, and why they’re wiling to risk their sister to get it,” I snarl back.
Nico doesn’t respond. The line goes dead, and I turn back to Gia. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she sighs. She picks a couple of pieces of glass out of her hair. “Do you really think it was Marco?”
“Who else would it be?”
She fixes me with a flat gaze. “The yakuza. The Russian guy who you screwed over on those guns two months ago. That French thug who you refused to do the shipping for…”
“He was trafficking people, Gia. I don’t do people” I snap at my sister’s disapproving tone.
She holds her hands up. “I’m not saying that you should. But I’m saying that Marco isn’t the only candidate here. There’s quite a few others.”
She’s right.
But I know that it was Marco. “It was the De Lucas,” I say darkly.
“Why would they risk their sister?”
“Maybe they know that the person who is supposed to be watching her is here instead. Maybe they planned this as a distraction, Gia. Did you think about that?”
She tilts her head. “Sure. It still doesn’t really make sense, but…”
I curse at her in Italian.
She rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ Elio. If you’re so enraged, then let’s get on the plane and get down there. See for yourself that your princess is still locked in her tower.”
“Fine,” I snap. “But you’re going to be the one who has to find her again if they have her.”
She waves her phone at me. “As of right now, she’s fine. See?”
I take Gia’s phone and look at the picture.
My chest feels hollow.
Caterina is staring out of the window of the mansion. Despite what looks like a warm, sunny day, she’s wearing a thick sweater. I can’t see her face, but the way she’s hugging her arms around herself makes me think that she’s sad.
Very, very sad.
I hand the phone back to Gia. I swallow around the tightness in my throat. “They might still be coming for her. Florida, Gia. Now.”
“Come on Elio,” she stomps out of the door, muttering.
I follow her, but something seems off.
I look at the corner of my desk.
The pictures of my mom and Gia, father and I are shattered. I’m not sure if it was the bullets themselves or the glass, but the frames are both cracked and the glass is so broken, I can’t see the pictures.
I turn them face down, my heart tightening, and I follow my sister.
The De Lucas are behind this. Just like they are behind the murder of my parents.
And I refuse to let them get away with it.
7
