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“I told you. I only want to get to know my sister-in-law. To find out why you're so important to brother dearest that he would go to all the trouble to keep you alive.”

“So you sent the doctor to the house?”

He taps a finger on his nose. “Of course. If you were going to be my brother's wife, you would have to be proven fertile. Otherwise, he would have no use for you. There would be no furthering the family bloodline.”

“At the hotel. That was you, too.”

“It was only a matter of time before you showed yourselves.” His lips curl in a snarl. “The damn worthless idiot botched it at the last moment. As they say, if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself.”

“You still haven't told me why.”

“You'll find out soon enough. I do hate repeating myself.” I can breathe easier when he tucks the gun away again. There's no forgetting it's there, but if it's not in his hand, there's less of a chance of him suddenly blowing up and using it.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, once my dear brother swoops in to save his precious topolina once again, I intend to explain myself once and for all.” He cups my cheek almost tenderly, stroking it with his thumb. “And then, I'll kill you both.”

And I thought Christian was a monster. He's ten times worse.

Christian. He must be looking for me. Before now, I might rack my brain trying to come up with ways he could find me. Now, I'm not sure I want him to. It would be better for him if he didn't.

Because this time, saving my life will mean losing his own. And I don't want him to die for me. If I have to die, I want to do it knowing he's still alive. Until this very minute, I didn't know how much he meant to me. It's the cold certainty in his twin's voice, the absolute assuredness that he's going to murder my husband that's suddenly cast a spotlight on my true feelings. I can't ignore them. I can't avoid them. It doesn't matter if it's wrong. I love Christian. I'm going to stand by that now, for as long as I live.

Though if this maniac gets his way, it won't be much longer.

24

CHRISTIAN

“What are you going to do?” Cynthia follows me, hot on my tail.

“Do you know who took her?” Tony questions.

I stalk toward the gun room, ignoring their questions, my focus on Siân and Siân alone. Bursting through the doors, I’m unbothered by the loud slap it makes when it knocks against the wall. Quickly, I punch in the passcode to the lockbox, impatiently waiting for the cases to spring open.

When they do, I grab three extra clips for the gun I keep tucked in my waist. Then I snatch an assault rifle from the rack along with a double-edged blade. Cynthia is spewing question after question at me, but I ignore them.

I storm past her but can see from the corner of my eye that she is still following me closely. “Christian,” she calls out.

“Find her. I’m going to bring her home,” I snip.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

I crane my neck and push a deep breath from my lungs. “No.”

“Yes.” Cynthia grabs my arm and forces me to look at her. “She is my daughter, and I have kept her safe until you found us,” she spits with her nostrils flared and tears brimming in her eyes. “You don’t get to disrupt our lives and then make me sit back and wait.”

I see her pain, and surprisingly, I get it. It hurts. Siân’s been taken, and I know it’s because of me. Not many people know who she is, and we’ve been careful not to tell anyone before today that she is the last surviving member of the Giuliani family. I can’t help but feel like Cynthia’s words are factual. I didn’t have to take Siân, and if I didn't, she would be safe right now.

If she’s hurt, this will be on me. But you better believe that if a hair on her perfect head is unkempt, there will be consequences.

“You will stay here.”

“N—”

“Cynthia. I don’t have time for this,” I snap while gripping her by the shoulders.

She stares at me, eyes wide and breaths uneven. “She’s my daughter.”

I soften my hold on her and steady my own nerves before responding. “And she’s my wife. I will bring her back—for us both. But I can’t save her if I’m worried about you too.”

“So you do have a heart?” she adds sarcastically.

“You mean a lot to Siân, so if I can help it, I won’t let you get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself,” she adds.

Releasing her, I scratch my brow. “That’s never been a question. But you’re staying here. Tony.”

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