Page 43 of Shattered Prince


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“I apologize for the way we brought you here,” Nervosa said, sipping his drink. “It was necessary.”

“What about Carmine?”

“I sent him to an associate. He’ll be bagged and brought here soon.”

I chewed on that and nodded. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

Nervosa laughed. “No, Julieta, I’m not. I plan on working with him. I don’t kill men that can bring me profit.”

I accepted that wordlessly.

Nervosa leaned forward and nodded at my leg. “You’re still bleeding. I have bandages in the bathroom if that would help?”

I stood up. “That’d be good.”

“Down the hall. Don’t do anything stupid.” He grinned as I hurried away.

I found the spacious bathroom and the bandages under the sink. With shaking hands, I placed them over the wounds and used medical tape to keep them steady. I sat on the edge of the tub and closed my eyes once I was finished and tried to picture the look on my father’s face as Oscar told him the whole story.

Soon, I wouldn’t have a family anymore. My father would disown me. He’d come and kill me. But first, I had to survive Nervosa, and I wasn’t sure that was guaranteed.

I headed back into the living room. Nervosa stood near the large window looking out at the city. I sat back down and shifted slightly as he looked over.

“I’ve been at war for too long,” he said quietly, his eyes piercing. “I’m tired of war.”

“I don’t blame you. War isn’t profitable. That’s what my dad says.”

“And yet your father and men like him keep killing each other. Why do you think that is?”

I shrugged. “They see it was a zero-sum game. If someone else is winning, that means they’re losing. So they kill each other.”

Nervosa sighed and nodded slowly. “There is so much money in the world, and yet we act like starving dogs over the few meager scraps we’re given.”

“Funny coming from someone as rich as you.”

He smiled tightly. “I wasn’t born into this life. I only inherited it.”

“I was, and let me tell you, that doesn’t make it any easier.”

There was a knock at the door. Nervosa turned as his guard opened it and two men stepped inside. One was tall and broad and carried a gun slung over one shoulder.

The other was Carmine with a black bag over his head. I’d recognize him anywhere, just from the way he stood.

The first guard nodded as the second one disappeared back outside and closed the door. The first guard took the bag off Carmine’s head, who stood there blinking rapidly and looking around.

His face lit up when he sat me and he walked over. “Jules,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“She’s just fine,” Nervosa said, turning to face Carmine.

Carmine stopped short. His expression fell, and his posture stiffened as he faced the Oligarch.

The two men were about the same height, but Nervosa looked like a brutal pit fighter, while Carmine had a sleek confidence about him. Both men radiated violence and danger. But Nervosa was the more powerful of the two, and Carmine lowered his head slightly in a respectful nod.

“Oligarch,” he said.

“Please, call me Nervosa.” He gestured to the couch. “Come sit. We have things to discuss.”

Carmine glanced at me and walked over. He sat as close as he could, like he was afraid to be too far away. I shivered when he looked at me and felt a wild thrill. I was so happy he was here, but terrified of what would happen next. What did Nervosa want, and what did he mean about the war? And what would Carmine do when he found out about Oscar? I was afraid, but strangely comforted.

I wished Carmine would put his hand on my leg like he had earlier in the day when he dropped me off for class. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly, looking into my eyes, and I nodded.

“He didn’t hurt me. Don’t worry about that.”

“My apartment,” he said, shaking his head. “It was a mess. What happened?”

I frowned. “It was fine when I left.”

“There was blood.”

I glanced at the floor. Nervosa stared, listening intently. “That’s nothing,” I said.

Carmine leaned closer and wanted to say something, but Nervosa spoke up.

“You can discuss this matter later,” he said. “For now, Carmine Falsone, I wish to speak about your current problems.”

Carmine looked away from me with some difficulty and nodded. I felt relieved that I didn’t have to go into more detail, but what did he mean about his apartment? Oscar must’ve done something after I left.

“How much do you know?” Carmine asked.

“Enough. Mauro Balestra moved on your parents, but he failed to finish you off. Now he brought in the Smierc Gang, a bunch of violent Polish biker assholes, to try to turn the tides in his favor.”

“That sums it up. There are too many bodies already. I plan on ending it as soon as I can.”

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