Page 123 of Alessio

So goddamn angry.

And yeah, Alessio got it.

“Fuck,” someone—Marcus—hissed behind them. “He’s dead; someone call in the cleaner, this mess needs to go.”

Someone else cried.

Ginevra.

Alessio looked her way.

Corrado did the same.

That, more than even Alessio dragging Corrado from the dead man on the floor, brought him back to reality. Alessio sensed the change in Corrado’s body, how all the fight and tension and anger bled away when his gaze landed on where she stood just five feet away.

Shaking.

Crying.

Scared.

She could be frightened of them, or of Corrado, or just what he had done. Alessio wasn’t sure, but when Corrado reached out a hand to her, a sorry already falling off his tongue, she took a step back.

A whole step.

Away.

“Get him out of here,” Marcus said, blocking Ginevra from Alessio’s view when he came to kneel beside them. “Calm him the fuck down, I need to handle this and fast.”

Right, right.

Mafia business.

Can’t kill made men.

All trash.

“Ginevra,” Corrado said.

Marcus gave his brother a glance from the side. “She’s fine for now.”

Except she wasn’t.

Even Alessio understood that.

Alessio shoved Corrado through the exit door, making him stumble into a back alley that was cold, and yet still somehow smelled of garbage and piss. Fucking perfect.

Not that it mattered.

The cold air helped to soothe some of that rage inside his soul—that bitterness making the beats of his heart faster. And not in a good way, either.

It barely helped, though.

Alessio stayed back by the door, sticking a rock in the track to keep it from closing before he turned to face Corrado. He didn’t need to look at Alessio’s face to see the disappointment staring back from him.

Corrado wasn’t the hothead here.

He didn’t freak out.