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“They won’t catch us,” Renzo said resolutely.
“But if they do….”
“Romano won’t touch you, Emi. I promise.” His voice broke, and my chest squeezed tight.
My worry was that Renzo would die keeping that promise and that I couldn’t bear.
* * *
I woke to a weird scratching sound. Quiet. So quiet. The TV was now off, and I glanced around the dark room, trying to orientate myself. A tiny sliver of the neon-red light from outside cut over Renzo’s sleeping form. That scratching sound started again, breaking through the silence that had settled over me like a blanket of needles. It was coming from the door. I sat up and reached for Renzo just as the lock clicked and the door knob turned.
“Renzo!”
Red light spilled into the room like a doorway to hell itself had opened. A single gunshot rang out, the bang deafening me as a flash lit up the darkness. Everything stopped, the scene playing out in soundless slow motion as shadowy figures suddenly filled the small room. It took a second shot for my frozen body to finally respond and roll off the bed.
My knees collided with the floor, though the pain barely registered past the adrenaline flooding my body. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard shouts and a struggle. And then everything fell ominously quiet. Renzo. I tried to force myself to move, but I was paralyzed. Years around dangerous men, yet I’d never found myself in the middle of flying bullets. Funny, how I thought I would react and the stone-cold reality of survival instinct could not be further apart. Ragged breaths slipped past my lips, my heart thrumming against my ribs like it would tear free of my chest if it could. Too loud. I was too loud, a wounded animal screaming in the midst of hunters.
Muted footsteps whispered over the threadbare carpet, and all I could do was stare at the pair of shiny dress shoes that rounded the bed and stopped in front of me. My gaze slowly raked up over the dark form of a man in a suit. Red light played over a scarred face I recognized as one of my father’s capos—Stefano. He’d guarded our house before, come to birthday parties and my grandma’s funeral. He’d watched me grow up… and yet his eyes were detached, merciless. I knew then he was going to kill me.
Panic clawed its way up my throat, and though I had no way to escape, desperation kicked in. I lurched to my feet and tried to scramble over the bed. He grabbed at me, and I fought, scratching and lashing out. My fist rammed into his throat like Luca had once shown me, then I jabbed my thumb into his eye. He roared and struck me in the side of the head before I was yanked by my hair. Pain radiated through my temple, and the room spun as I was dragged against his much bigger body. Hot, cigarette-tinted breath washed over my face before he spoke in my ear.
“Matteo Romano said if he can’t have you, no one can.”
No, no, no. The terror that had already been choking me reached a frenzied crescendo at the sound of that man’s name, but really, what did it matter whether it was Matteo or my uncle? Either way, I was about to die, and honestly, there was a certain peace in that knowledge. Maybe there was something beyond this life and Chiara would be waiting for me.
That thought made it a little easier when Stefano forced me back to my knees in front of him. I stared at him in the darkness and realized that this moment felt inevitable. My family was determined to bend me until I broke, but I refused to break. I would rather be on my knees, right here, right now, than be on them for the rest of my life for a man like Matteo Romano.
With icy purpose, Stefano lifted his gun. My heart let out a furious beat as though rushing to get in its last few precious moments before it would beat no more. I closed my eyes, a trembling breath slipping from my lips as the cool barrel nudged against my forehead. A single tear tracked down my cheek, a staggered breath filled frozen lungs, and then… bang! My entire body jerked, and I choked on a breath, but there was no pain, no final moment, no bright light. When I opened my eyes, an angel of death stood before me, bathed in shadows, with Stefano’s body at his feet and a gun in his hand. I felt like a lowly mortal bowing in front of the terrifying stranger.
Sapphire eyes met mine, not a trace of warmth to be found in them as they swept over me with the assessment of a predator weighing its next meal. He would probably kill me next, but God, he was beautiful. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen, with cheekbones that could cut glass and dark hair falling over his forehead in messy waves. Maybe I was already dead and he truly was an angel come to collect my soul. He sure as hell looked like one. The throbbing in my head intensified, and those full lips of his pressed into a tight line as I swayed side to the side slightly.
