“And what do you get out of this whole alliance?”
“What I’ve always wanted. Power. Legacy.” He stops, the corners of his lips curling into a sinister smile. “You think this is over because your father woke up? Francesco opening his eyes doesn’t change anything. He’s weak and vulnerable, just like he was before the gala. And he’ll be dealt with when the time is right.”
The casual way he says it… like my father’s life is just an item to be ticked off on a to-do list… makes me want to scream and kick in his smug ass face.
“Lochlan will never go along with this.”
“Lochlan doesn’t have a choice.” His voice turns glacial. “He married you. And under that contract, he controls half of the DiMicheli assets. Once you’re out of the equation, that half falls under my direction.”
Out of the equation. Such a clean way to say it.
“So you’re going to kill me.”
“I’m going to do what’s necessary. It’s just business, Adriana. Nothing personal.” He turns to Vincenzo. “Speaking of business. We need to discuss the transition plans.”
Vincenzo straightens in his chair, his eyes brightening in anticipation of his new role and the spoils he’s about to collect. “I’ve reached out to a few of the capos. They’re on board with the new direction and are anxious to start expanding their reach. We need to come up with a plan to handle the rest of the group, so we should talk about?—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Eamon says, cutting him off.
Vincenzo frowns. “What do you mean? The way we present this change is important if we want to make sure we have everyone’s support.”
“Your services are no longer required.” Eamon’s voice is almost gentle, but the meaning of his words bites into my brain. “You’ve been very useful, Vincenzo. Truly. The information, the access… none of this would have been possible without you.”
“We had an arrangement.” Vincenzo stands up, a red flush creeping into his face. His eyes dart left and right and he tugs at his tie. “I delivered everything I promised. The DiMicheli organization, Adriana, all of it.”
“You did. And I’m grateful.” Then Eamon reaches into his jacket and pulls out a black gun.
Vincenzo stumbles backward into a chair, shock seeping into his lined face. “Eamon?—”
“You betrayed Francesco. A man who trusted you for overfifty years. He treated you like family. He gave you everything, and all you did was bitch and moan about how you never got what you were worth, what you deserved.” Eamon raises the weapon, his hand perfectly steady. “If you’ll betray him for the right price, you’ll betray me the moment something better comes along.”
“No, you’re wrong.” Vincenzo’s hands fly up as if he can block the shot that’s about to be fired. “I swear, I would never?—”
“You would. Given the right circumstances, you absolutely would. It’s just your selfish, greedy nature.” His finger slides over the trigger. “I have to protect my own interests now. And those don’t include you.”
“Wait—”
The gunshot echoes through the warehouse, reverberating between my ears.
Vincenzo drops like a bag of cement. Blood pools under him, seeping into the concrete.
I can’t look away, shivering uncontrollably, teeth clattering. Bile shoots up the back of my throat. The man who betrayed my father, who handed me to the wolves, is dead. One second he’s standing; the next he’s crumpled on the floor with a gaping hole in his chest.
My insides plunge into a deep freeze, my heart stuttering as my brain replays Eamon’s caustic words.
Eamon tucks the gun away and straightens his cuffs. He shows zero remorse, the fucking sociopath that he is.
“Now then.” He checks his watch. “The Kozlovs will be here shortly to transport you somewhere more secure.”
“Lochlan will come for me.” I wiggle against the zip ties. “You won’t get away with this.”
“Oh, I’m counting on some drama. My son is sentimental. It’s his greatest weakness. He’ll walk right into whatever trap I set, and then I’ll have both of you exactly where I need you.”
He crosses over to where the Russian guards stand and speaks to them quietly. One pulls out a phone and sayssomething in rapid Russian. Eamon checks his phone, types something, and puts it away.
He’s not leaving. He’s waiting. For the Kozlovs. For Lochlan to walk into his trap. For everything to fall into place. Sweat beads pop up along my prickled skin.
I think about what he said. That Lochlan’s love for me is a weakness. That he’ll come no matter what.
