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“You’re no better than him. You—you and Damien, and your father,” I say, dizzy as I try to make an impossible choice. Should I trust Victor?
Giulio’s smile chills me to the bone. “Nah, fuck my old man. He’s not gonna recover from this. Allies dead, everybody thinks he set them up…” He laughs. “That was actually fucking brilliant, Corvi.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I don’t think I even want to know. This is all mafia politics, and I want nothing to do with them.
It isn’t until I hear my name that I snap back to the conversation, realizing they’ve been talking the whole time. “...you can be on your way and disappear before anybody realizes you abandoned your father.”
Giulio sighs. “Give it a break.” As quickly as Giulio pulls out a knife, Victor has his gun leveled on him. “Chill, man, it’s just a knife.”
But it’s not just a knife. It’s a knife he puts to my throat, and I try to stay perfectly still. Would he slit my throat right now? It seems like I’m the only thing preventing Victor from just killing Damien and Giulio right here, and I don’t understand why.
“So, I’d really like to keep Vanessa. She’s pretty, I can think of a few uses for her cunt, and you gotta admit she’s great leverage. But if you don’t back the fuck off right now, I will slice her neck before any of you can pull the trigger. Got it?”
No. No, no, no. I can’t do this. Maybe Victor would be better, a realization I make too late. I look desperately at Victor, hoping he can salvage the situation. Being with Lucia has to be better than being with these monsters.
“I understand.” Victor lowers the gun, and I let out another whimper, another wave of tears spilling down my face as I realize this is it. One way or another, I’m going with Damien and Giulio, and I have no idea what they’re going to do with me.
Dizzy, I have to rely on Damien to keep myself upright. I feel like I’m going to pass out at any moment, and it’s all I can do to stay conscious and hope that this can somehow turn around.
But it won’t, and I know that.
The knife is sharp against my throat as they lead me away. Every step is an opportunity for something to go wrong, for my skin to slice open and blood to splatter all over.
My body can join my father’s, another victim of the Pavone empire.
No—my father had been anything but innocent. It’s his fault that I’m even in this mess. But I can’t hold onto that hatred, because it doesn’t matter.
My tears get worse when Damien forces me into the back seat of a dark sedan. Giulio slides in next to me, finally putting the knife away.
With trembling hands, I attempt to open the door, but nothing happens.
“Child locks? Really, Damien? Did you think I was going to run away?” Giulio asks as he wraps one arm around my shoulders.
“I was… hopeful that we would somehow end up with Vanessa tonight.” Damien starts the car. “Although I thought I would simply ask Emilio if I could have her.”
Giulio laughs. “Yeah, man. He probably would’ve given her to you. Such a loyal consigliere and all.”
I shudder. How long has Damien been planning this? I knew he had an unhealthy interest in me, but I’d never thought he’d do something like this. The photos he’d taken of me had been uncomfortable, but I’d thought he’d stop at that.
They start to chat like I’m not even there, and I zone out as the car moves. Lucia… I don’t even know if she’s safe. I don’t know where she is, or who she’s with.
I don’t know anything anymore.
1
VANESSA
The sign on the building says “XXX—Strippers—Private Dances” with an arrow pointing to a stairway below. Next to it is a rundown Chinese restaurant, and on the other side is a convenience store. The building facade itself is dark and grimy.
I stare at the blinking sign, dread pooling in my stomach. This can’t be happening. This can’t actually be real.
The hand on the back of my neck tightens and I gasp.
“Keep moving,” Damien says quietly, guiding me toward the stairs.
Damien Rossi, consigliere to Emilio Pavone, one of the most powerful men in the dark underbelly of the east coast. He’s only a few inches taller than I am, but I still feel like I need to crane my neck to look at him.
Ahead of us, already halfway down the stairs, is Giulio Pavone, Emilio’s son.
