Page 153 of Vow Of Fire

“What makes them any better than the Marcellis?” I asked.

“Well, their money, for one. They have a lot more of it. Also, they want to take over the gallery and are looking for a new owner. I hate to break it to you, Evie, but you’re on the way out.”

Rage was replacing the pounding in my head, easing the pain. “So you’re going to take over my gallery?”

“With the Marcellis out of the way, it’ll be plain sailing. The Colombians will have a seamless route to bring their merchandise into the country, and I’ll make a lot of money helping them do it.”

“You’re despicable,” I spat.

He laughed. “You’re too sensitive. Money is money. It’s all the same. Why shouldn’t I play them off against each other? If you had any brains, you’d be doing the same thing yourself, but you had no idea what was going on under your very nose.”

I was so angry I was shaking. I may not have known back then, but I was a different person now. Dante had made sure of that.

I’d stepped out of my world and into his. My eyes were wide open now, and there was no going back.

“How are you going to get them to back off?” I asked.

He smiled darkly. “That’s where you come in.”

An icy chill sliced through me.

“You’re going to call your demon lover and tell him I have a gun to your head. Then you’re going to tell him to back off and leave the gallery alone. No more games. No more manipulation. No more trying to turn the Russians against the cartel.”

I gasped.

He smirked. “Thought I didn’t know about that, eh?”

How had he known? We hadn’t told anybody.

Did that mean the Colombians knew too? Shit. Would they go after the Marcellis now?

He must have clocked my anxious expression because he chuckled again. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told my Colombian associates yet, and there’s no need to—if he plays ball.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then the streets of Manhattan will run red with Marcelli blood,” he promised.

I felt ill. The Marcellis had no idea about Vincent, that he’d betrayed them. That he’d caused the death of their men.

I gasped. “That was you in the underground garage, wasn’t it? You were the third man in the SUV. You were there watching your thugs shoot at us.”

“Pity they missed,” he said mildly. “It would have saved everybody a whole lot of trouble.”

I blew out a breath as he took out his phone. He’d lowered the hand holding the gun but hadn’t holstered it. One false move and I’d get a bullet through my head. I had no doubt Vincent was capable of that.

“It won’t work,” I whispered. “He doesn’t care.”

“But he does care about his family,” Vincent insisted. “And he’ll care when I threaten to tell the Colombians. You’re just the frosting on top of the cake. The added insurance thrown in for good measure.”

A wave of nausea swept over me, and if I hadn’t been sitting down, I’d have fainted. Maybe I was slightly concussed after all, or maybe Vincent was just making me ill with his ruthless betrayal.

“Let’s test the theory, shall we?”

I swallowed hard as he dialed Dante’s number. He pressed the speaker button and set the phone down on the ground in front of me.

I froze as Dante’s voice tore through the warehouse.

“Vincent? Where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to get hold of you⁠—”