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Maybe I have.
My mother was off. So was my brother. Perhaps I’m more like them than I thought. Maybe I am losing it. I’m going mad with power. The Mad Fucking King.
I have so much blood on me, it takes a half-hour shower to wash it all off. I emerge squeaky clean but no less livid and paranoid. Luca said there would be others. Always somebody somewhere who will spring up and do what he did—make threats against me and my empire. My family.
It’s a universally accepted truth that this lifestyle will always be a danger. The higher up you make it, somebody is going to be lurking in the shadows for their chance to get you.
I’ve known this.
However, Luca’s warning is more ominous. It could be I haven’t cooled off from our confrontation, or it could be I have valid reason to wonder what if. He hadn’t been acting alone if he’d been able to impose a very real threat to Falynn and me in Paris. Had he involved the Rastelli’s from Sicily? Other Mafia families from different countries?
There’s no telling. I can trust no one.
I slide into a pair of jeans and a plain T-shirt, debating how I want to move forward. If I want to bring Falynn and the rest of my men home to the States, or if it’s still too risky. Any move could be the right move…or the wrong one. There’s no telling until it’s all said and done.
I grab my iPhone and unlock the screen to a list of notifications in the last thirty minutes. I have seven missed calls, four voice messages, and a slew of texts.
My heart rate doubles on this alone. Whatever’s happened since I showered, it’s urgent. It’s probably not good. I call Dante back.
He answers and sounds like a terrified pussy. I cut his stuttered greeting short and demand to know what the hell is up.
“Your wife,” he says, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry, Boss. She’s escaped again. We can’t find her anywhere.”
I clench my eyes shut and breathe out raggedly, the beast returning just like that.
I should’ve known.
