Placing it delicately in my lap, he says, “This seemed more your style.”
Removing the lid, a small gasp leaves my mouth.
It’s a gleaming silver Desert Eagle. A large, beautiful gun; it fits into my hand like it was made for me. “Happy birthday,piccola. Twenty-one years in this world is a lifetime most don’t get to see. I have no doubt you will own this city in another twenty-one years.”
23
MAEVE
PRESENT DAY
Pounding my fist on the brown front door, I say, “He said they had people on the door. Nico!”
The front screen is slightly ajar, but the entry is locked. There are no sounds from inside—usually by now, he and Maria are listening to one of their old Italian films. With the volume up so high, the windows would rattle with booming laughs or rich music.
He got me into those movies—spending nights with them gave me a piece of normalcy I’ve never experienced elsewhere.
Why aren’t they answering?
Killian slinks along the edges, peering into the bottom windows. Before I can slam into the door again, he smashes out a window, unlocking the top. Sliding inside, he’s hidden in the shadows, and as I step back to admire his skill, the front door opens.
He stares at me, mouth pressed into a hard line. My heart stutters as fear so tangible drops into my gut. “What? What is it?”
“It smells like blood. A lot of it.” He shifts, pulling his gun from the back of his jeans, but I’m already rushing past him. Cursing under his breath, he grabs me. Swinging back into the hall, he plants himself in front of my body, crushing me against the wall.
I can barely breathe, but I don’t fight him. His weight stabilizes me.
“We had this conversation. No more running into danger. Especially without me.”
“It’sNico, Killian.” My voice shakes, but my gaze burns. “We have to find him.”
Nico, who helped me save Hayes. Nico, who allied when I had nothing to offer other than pretty words and false hopes. Nico, who gave me my throne.
Nico, who on the eve of my father’s death, signed the agreement to allow Sloane entrance into his family—and away from Doyle’s horrible ways. He didn’t have to do it—he knew what the cost would be if the Board found out. He didn’t care. He did it—for me.
“We do this my way.” He peers over my head, ears listening for any noise. “You don’t leave my side. Where’s your gun?”
Patting my pocket, he nods once. “Take it out and stand behind me.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“I just watched you get shot, Princess.” He yanks my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I won’t watch that again. You stand behind me, or I take you out of here over my shoulder and let Nico have his fate. Your choice.”
Prick.
But he’s serious, and I don’t have time to argue. I need to find Nico and Maria.
“Fine.”
Shoving off of me, he waits for me to arm myself before taking my hand. My body melts at his touch, seeking him out while chaos reigns inside my mind. Because when life is hard, I know I can rest my weary head in his arms and still be safe.
Stepping through the front hall, we enter the office. This home is small—much smaller than their grand mansion. But when Dom burned it down after kidnapping Sloane and trying to assault her, Nico decided to let the past rest. This home was supposed to be their retirement—Saturdays out at fancy restaurants, and Sundays at church.
Nothing is disturbed here. The computer is off, with a lone lamp on the big desk. There aren’t any papers—not that there should be. Lex is in charge now, and Nico is out.
Killian stalks through the side hall, and the copper tang of blood—toomuchblood—hits my nose. I gasp, and he freezes, looking back at me.
Sympathy flashes there before the emotion is erased.
