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“So the men? The blood on the walls?” Aida says.
“How do you even know about this?” Franco snaps.
“Answer the question,” Aida says. “Dad, they took your friend, Elmo. They ordered me kidnapped. What do you owe these people?”
Franco sighs and rests his face in his hands.
He stays like that for a long time.
I open my mouth to tell him to hurry up, but Aida shoots me a wait-and-see look. She’s the only person who could make me listen in a moment like this.
I sigh darkly and wait.
Finally, Franco begins to speak, his voice low, rumbling.
“When Aida was first born, a man in a black suit wearing black sunglasses – basically a government-looking motherfucker – he came to me with a photograph of Aida in her crib. There was a man standing over it with a knife, wearing a mask, just staring at the camera. He told me that no matter where I ran, no matter what I did, they’d always be able to get their hands on Aida and hurt her. They scared the shit out of me, that’s the truth. So when they came to me and told me to split away from you, Arturo, I felt like I had no choice.
“For years, they controlled my business, they controlled me. Whenever I tried to break away, they’d record themselves watching Aida, a sniper scope trained on her head. They’d always keep me in line.”
He makes a choking noise like he’s fighting off tears.
“I didn’t want to go along with any of it,” he growls. “But I felt like I had no choice. For years, it was simple. Just give them a portion of my profits. But lately, they’ve wanted to make a power play on the whole city. That’s why they killed your men and wrote that message. They want us at war, Arturo, so they can come in and pick up the pieces.”
My head reels with all of it.
I always thought he left because he wanted to be the boss.
I never dreamed he was forced to.
I look at Aida and see that she’s clearly just as shocked, her mouth hanging open.
“But who are they?” I murmur. “Who the fuck are they, Franco?”
“I don’t know their official name,” he says. “Maybe they’re FBI. Maybe they’re CIA. They just call themselves the Peacekeepers. They’ve got contacts in the military, in the police, everywhere—”
“So have I,” I snarl. “If you came to me years ago, I could’ve found them. We could’ve gone after them together.”
“And risk my daughter’s life?” Franco roars, glaring at me, eyes bloodshot and pain-red. “I couldn’t. I’m only telling you now because they crossed a fucking line. Taking my daughter.”
“Don’t worry about these Peacekeepers,” I snarl. “Whoever they are, I won’t let them touch Aida. I won’t let them hurt her, ever. You have my word on that.”
Franco flinches. “Why do you care so much?”
I take a breath and look at Aida, waiting to see if she wants to take the lead here. But her face has drained of color, her lips trembling.
She looks more frightened now than she did when we were talking about murder and kidnapping.
I can’t help myself. I reach across and take her hand in mine, feeling her anxiety-fueled sweat. I grip onto her firmly and give her hand a squeeze, letting her know that I’m here for her.
I’ll always be here for her.
For the rest of our lives.
“Franco, I’ve claimed—”
Suddenly my vision goes blurry and my throat starts to close up.
I try to stand, but my legs have turned to smoke, collapsing beneath me.
I fall onto my knees and reach out for Aida, wanting – needing – to grab her, to protect her.
Smoke is filling the room.
Franco’s men – and my men – have already collapsed, their eyes falling shut.
Aida slumps from her chair and lands on her side, her mouth open as though she’s mid-speech, but there’s no noise apart from the thump-thump of my heartbeat in my ears.
I fight the smoke, the tiredness, my limbs heavy, my chest getting tight.
“A-A-Aida,” I groan, but my lover’s name comes out twisted, hardly a word at all.
Finally, I can’t fight it anymore.
I collapse onto my back, staring up at the gutted patchwork of the ceiling.
At first, I think it’s a giant insect, its eyes large and black, reflecting myself back at me.
Then I realize it’s a gas mask, and that the man is holding a gun.
He aims it at my face.
“This one’s still awake.”
His voice is a robotic echo coming from a million miles away.
“Should I put him out of his misery?”
“No, that’s Arturo Amato, we need him …”
My eyelids collapse.
My ears shut off.
I drift away on a sea of night black water.
Chapter Eighteen
Aida
I wake with someone jabbing me in the base of the spine with a sharp metal object, keeping it held there, causing me to squirm into consciousness. I blink and look around the dark room, everything hazy, my brain feeling foggy.
