Page 164 of Savage Don

Domenico is taking her somewhere. It might be the docks, or it might be the cabin, but I’m not about to sit around, waiting to find out.

I’m going after them.

I’m going to get her back.

“I’ll go after the car,” I bark. “You guys check out the other leads. Nolan, Shane. You two know the Catskills like the back of your hands. You go up there and check it out. Leonid, Maksim. Check out the docks. I know you two can handle yourselves there—half of each of you is more dangerous than a handful of Italians.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You got it, Ray.”

“And what about me?” Aiden Kilpatrick, the king of all kings asks.

In response, I feel a primal snarl come over my face.

There will be no more mercy. It’s finally time to go all out. Scorched earth, motherfucker.

“You gather the army.”

36

Francesca

Father’s blood still stains my face as the old Cadillac peels onto the highway.

Whoever’s driving this thing couldn’t care less about how much it hurts every time we rage over a bump or a pothole. Even the smallest imperfections in the road seem to rattle my insides and tug up on my restraints. If I thought I might live until tomorrow, I’d be worried about the pain I might wake up to.

But this time, when I close my eyes, I will never open them again.

The marking on my wrists and my ankles will disappear with my flesh as I rot away in a shallow grave..

If I wasn’t so emotionally numb, the thought might terrify me. The only thing worse than dying at the hand of someone you hate, is dying alone, already knowing that the man you love has been killed trying to protect you.

Shit.

Ray is dead.

Sonia killed him, and she’s explained to me exactly how she did it.

Obviously, my reaction to her blowing Father’s head off wasn’t satisfactory. Because ever since she kicked him out of the car, and left his corpse to gather flies as we drove away, she’s been trying to get a rise out of me.

First, she tried asking me how I would like to be killed, but when that didn’t work, she moved onto the man I love.

It almost worked. But while I can feel every bump on the road, I can’t feel shit inside.

I’m emotional numb. Devastated beyond belief.

Gutted. Empty. Hollow.

My face won’t budge, not even to cry. And I can tell it’s starting to piss Sonia off. But not even that can bring me any satisfaction.

I’m alone.

He’s gone.

“Perk up, honey,” Sonia teases, twirling her gun between her fingers.

She hardly seems affected by the fact that she just murdered her husband in cold blood. Hell, before we took off, she kicked him out of the car like he was nothing more than a trash bag.