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The blood.
Something inside me cried in a voice I didn’t recognize. It was raw and filled with so much anguish that the sound inside my head threatened to drown me.
“This is your fault, you son of a bitch,” she shouted, stopping right in front of me and pounding on my chest, over and over again. “If you’d left her alone… if you’d just been your usual goddamned selfish self…” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued to hit me.
I remained in place as she continued to punch me with her fists, like she was a violent little energizer bunny. I’d certainly never been in this position before, but Greta had every right to her anger. So I stood there, letting her pound away until her batteries ran out.
This was my fault. I let them get to Raven. I let them take her. I let them hurt her.
“Greta, calm down,” said a tall, bald man as he walked in through the open doorway.
He glared at me with eyes so cold, it felt like an Arctic blast. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t just be dead, I’d be a thousand bloody shards of ice on the hotel room floor.
I’d have to remember to quake in my boots later.
He was a man I vaguely recognized as it took me a moment to place him. Vito Agossi—a Luciano man who’d fallen off the radar. Word was he’d died more than a decade ago.
He didn’t look dead to me.
He had no weapon in his hand, but I could see the bulky outline of the guns beneath his jacket.
“Don’t tell me… to calm down,zietto,” she told the man, but she stumbled back.
Vito Agossi was Greta’s uncle? Raven’s “uncle” was named Vito. Dominic was looking for a man named Vito.Mammamentioned a Luciano man when she was plotting with Maria.
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place perfectly.
Something fell from Greta’s hands as she leaned over, putting her hands on her knees while she gasped, catching her breath. It was a crumpled-up piece of paper.
I picked it up and smoothed it out. The words on the paper stared back at me.
I’ve got her now—B
My heart flared up, clattering the steel bars it had been locked behind for years. It wanted free just so it could be ripped out of my chest.
I glanced at my watch. “Fuck!”
I yanked my phone out of my jacket and punched in Salvatore’s number. The phone rang. Then it rang again. The sound oddly resembled the ticking of a time bomb in my head.
Answer the fucking phone.
Halfway through the third ring, he picked up.
“What’s up, boss?” he whispered.
“Fall back. Right now.”
“What’s that, boss?”
“Raven and Cesare are in there. Fall the fuck back. Now.”
“Dio santo!It’s too—”
Raspy static. Screams. Shouts.
“Fuck.” I resisted the urge to chuck the phone at the wall and shoved it back in my jacket.
Berlusconi had her. She was there, right in the middle of a firefight. Of the slaughter we had planned.
