“Good choice.” I sip from the glass. The burn is welcomed, driving the coldness out of my veins. “Dom isn’t too bright.”
He snorts. “No. No, he’s not. And you?”
I give him a dry look. “I’m fine.”
He glances at my hands. They’re freshly cut, from my attack on Michael. A few are bleeding from the freezing temperatures, but I’d happily withstand it. It means I’m here—that I’m free.
“I’ve heard,” he begins casually, “that your second has died. A heart attack.”
Shrugging, I take a larger sip. Oak and smoke flood my mouth. “Wasn’t a very healthy man. Heart sort of…stopped.”
Because my blade penetrated it. Forty-two times, I stabbed into his body, letting all the sins he inflicted on me come out and flood him. I sent him to Hell and made him take back all his torment, too.
Nico chews on his tongue, eyes on my leg. Not in a perverse way, he sees the thin scars down my calf. From a box knife one night, when Michael had tried to get me to submit in the backroom at The Wharf. I had crawled away, and he struck, slicing into my legs with the first thing he could find.
It didn’t stop him from rolling me over. He didn’t stop him from ripping away my jeans.
Hands shaking, I drain my glass.
“I hope he suffered,” he mumbles, voice deep and velvety. “I hope he felt every terrible thing he’d done in this life. I hope he went, full of your vengeance, carrying all that pain back to the devil. Let it hinder him—and never anyone else.”
Swallowing the lump, I bite my lip. “That and more.”
He smiles ruefully. “That and more,piccola.”
We sit in silence, the mantle clock ticking by as the fire crackles. The tension in my shoulders drains away, and I lean back into the couch. The doilies on the top scratch my face, but I relish the feel. It’s normal—it’s familiar.
“When I found you as a child,” he begins softly, “I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t know what to expect from you.”
“That’s a common thread.”
“You have to understand.” He finishes his glass, leaning forward. “You are a force in this world. A woman who favors knives? At fifteen years old, my hardened soldiers were afraid to run into you. I didn’t know if you would one day kill me. If I’d be forced to kill you.” My heart pangs, and I catch his eyes. Nico smiles gently. “It never came to that. I like to think we became friends.”
“We did,” I agree. “You’ve helped me in ways no one else knows.”
Nico saved me that night. He offered me advice and safety. Maria gave me a glimmer of comfort and maternal love.
And when I wanted to help Hayes, I ran to Nico.
“I never thanked you,” I murmur. “For giving me the money to save Hayes. To break his father’s hold on him.” To save him from certain death at the hands of my father if he found out he was a Bruno.
“I should be thanking you.” He leans back, winking. “You killed five men for that money. We’re even.”
Men in my clan—and Bruno’s. All horrible men who hurt women, children, and Nico’s business. Clan loyalty says to never kill family, but I have no allegiance to bad people.
“You have the same look on your face as that night.” He waves his gnarled finger. “You only ask for help when it serves to save someone else. You’re a selfless person, Ace. Your father would be happy to have you as heir.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Turning toward him, I fold my hands in my lap. “Without Michael, we don’t have a second.”
“And no clear succession,” he surmises. “But Ferguson has you. There is a line, should something happen.”
I give him a broken smile. “My father doesn’t believe I can lead the clan. It’s not awoman’splace.”
Nico’s eyes flash with rage. He gets it. The De Luca family is run like a business—gender doesn’t matter as long as the job gets done. If Lex had been a woman, it wouldn’t have changed Nico’s choice to make him the next in line. The O’Brien clan, on the other hand, doesn’t believe the same.
“What do you need?”
“Power,” I say simply. “Only power gets respect. Without it, I’m nothing in the clan.” I can’t do anything without power. If I try, I’m dead.
