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Suddenly, the figure sprints forward, grabs Lorenzo along with the other men, and drags him toward the open doors of the van.
Shit, shit, shit.
Lorenzo’s lost his weapon but he fights like he’s possessed, snarling and swearing, punching and kicking when he can. I take aim at one of the figures on the left and shoot, but it’s like the bullets don’t hit. They’re wearing body armor like a SWAT team.
“Salvatore. Trunk of my car, left-hand side,” Lorenzo shouts. He keeps shouting but his voice becomes muffled. “It’s him, Salvatore. Do it.Fucking do—”
The van doors slam closed on him, and the engine roars as it speeds out of the lot. Panic rolls through my body. He’s taken Lorenzo. I heft the gun in my hands and shoot the tires, but I either miss or it doesn’t work.
I run to Lorenzo’s Mercedes and open the back. On the left-hand side is a khaki box, and I flip it open revealing a grenade launcher, a heavy weapon that shoots high-caliber explosive projectiles over long distances.
The van is racing down the road, growing smaller and smaller. I’ve only got a few seconds before it turns a corner and disappears.
My throat burns. Lorenzo’s in that van, the most unexpected friend I ever made. The most unlikely, but also the most loyal. He came from nothing and clawed his way to where he is through sheer force of his titanium will. Coldlake wouldn’t be the same without him.Iwouldn’t be the same without him.
But the four of us made a pact a long time ago.If you’ve got the chance to take the killer out, you do it, no hesitating. No matter the consequences.
And here I am, hesitating.
He’d want me to do it. For Sienna. For Ophelia, Amalia and Evelina. I have to do it for Lorenzo, for the torture that awaits him at the hands of this killer if I don’t end this now.
I heft the heavy weapon in my grip, flick off the safety, and peer through the sights. Someone runs to my side. Vinicius. He gives a moan of anguish like an animal in pain, but he doesn’t stop me.
I wish he’d fucking stop me.
I aim at the van’s back doors, my chest so tight that my lungs are burning. I’m a monster again. I’m a fucking monster and I’m going to kill one of my best friends.
My last thought before I squeeze the trigger is…How am I going to tell Chiara?
3
Chiara
The heavy metal door creaks open and a muscular, bearded man with bright blue eyes appears. He glances at me, then looks at Acid and shakes his head.
“Are you sure?” Acid asks.
“One hundred percent.”
I look from one man to the other, trying to discern whether they’re happy about whatever’s happened or not.
Acid gets to his feet. “Let’s roll, your highness.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, wondering where we’re rolling to. Is Acid going to ransom me to the syndicate or Dad? I could be face to face with my father within the hour. I wonder if he’ll kill me or lock me up.
Thane comes forward and cuts through the rope that’s holding me to the chair, though my arms are still lashed to my torso. Then he dips his shoulder and hauls me over it. I spit curses at him as he carries me through the door and up some dank steps.
I’m placed on my feet on some dingy patterned carpet. Music is playing on a flashing jukebox. Bottles of liquor line one wall.
Is this Strife?
Acid heads over to the bar. “What’s your poison, your highness? You can have anything you want as long as it’s whiskey or beer.”
I stare straight ahead, my teeth grit.
The bearded man is leaning against the bar, his arms folded as he glares at me.
“Who are you?” I ask.
