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“That fucking woman of yours . . .”
I shove him off and cut my palm, blood dropping on the dark floor. With a curse, he takes it from me and does the same to his, slapping his palm on mine.
“I hope you’re fucking happy.”
No. I’m miserable. Nothing in me could make Chiara stay, yet she sacrifices her freedom in a bargain for another man. There’s nothing but muffled despair and bland acceptance. I am dead inside.
***
We’re still at the compound when Hayden gets out of his car and tells his man to remain outside.
“I give it to him, he’s confident,” I say.
We take our seats, and I watch Kieran playing with the gun strapped under his table.
If it weren’t for the blood oath, Hayden would be dead before he stepped foot inside.
“He’s important to Aurora, and you know you can’t come back from certain things,” Cameron tries to remind Kieran.
“I’m going to listen to what he has to say. It’s not like this fucker gave me any other choice.” The fucker in the equation being me.
I salute him, and his eyes burn with disapproval. Cameron shakes his head, disappointment oozing from him.
Hayden steps inside and greets us with a noncommittal jerk of his chin. I crack my neck as he takes a seat across from us, his nonchalance grating on my last nerve.
“You’re awfully calm for someone in your position.” The bile on Kieran’s tongue is palpable.
“You won’t kill me.”
Kieran snorts.
“I assume the time for bullshit is now over.”
We each take a seat, the tension thick in the air.
“I have been in this game longer than you have. And I have the advantage of knowing you before you even had me on your radar. Don’t take this personally.”
“One of these days, we will retaliate,” I say.
“No, you won’t.”
“Motherfucker.”
He waves us off. “Aurora and Chiara are flying back tonight.”
“We know,” I reply.
“I want a seat at your table and twenty-five percent.”
Laughter erupts from the three of us. “Or I will take thirty-three percent. From you, Kieran, and Cameron, and help another mafia family take over, Cato. The possibilities are endless.”
We shoot to our feet, guns raised. This idiot is keen to die.
What happens afterward is a blur of movement. The door opens, and his man stumbles inside.
“Boss, they stormed the house.” Panic rings in his man’s voice.
The news has us all on high alert. Hayden’s phone rings, and he picks it up with a trembling hand.
