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"Right." Theo squares his shoulders, straightening his tie. "No use dawdling. Let's get this over with.”
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Sterling gripes, waving us in and turning towards the reading room without another word.
Liam and Tristan start to follow him, but I catch hold of Liam's sleeve and pull him back, nodding to Theo, who touches Tristan's shoulder. The guys all turn around, nodding brusquely as I jerk my head to the side. As Sterling's pleasantries to Victor and my father waft in from the other room, we step out of the line of view and gather close.
"Are we ready?" I ask.
Liam smirks. "Look how far you've come, Vivi. Calling huddles and everything." He straightens up. "Luckily for you, I'm ready as I'll ever be." His expression darkens. "Only shame is I don't get to put a bullet in the bastard myself.”
"Don't speak too soon," Tristan cautions. "If this goes down badly, you may have that opportunity.”
"So what's our move?" Theo asks.
"I was thinking—” Tristan begins, but my brother-in-law holds up a hand.
"I think we should hear from Vivian," Theo says, his expression serious. "This is what we've been preparing you for, kid. What's our move?”
I look from one boyfriend to the next, flabbergasted. "Are you seriously asking me to plan our escape?”
"More or less," Liam nods. "No pressure, right?" He grins.
"Yeah, uh…” I gesture uselessly at myself, looking down at my heels. "I'm not exactly James Bond over here.”
"We're not asking you to be," Theo replies. "Think about what you've learned, kid.”
"What is this, some kind of test?" I ask, panic starting to rise in me.
"Hardly," Theo replies. "When the shit hits the fan, kid, we need to be decisive—and that includes you. This is our chance to show the rest of London that we're not just going to roll over and die. No matter what, we need to demonstrate that we're not to be fucked with. The sooner you show that kind of power, Kid, the sooner the rest of this city will see you for what you are.”
"And what exactlyamI?" I ask, crossing my arms.
"A fucking badass," Liam replies.
Tristan nods. "You're more than a mafia princess, Vivian. You always have been. You were born to be a leader; now's your chance to become one.”
I swallow, nod, and peer around the corner into the sitting room.Focus, I tell myself.What would the guys do?"There are guards at every entrance," I assess finally, turning back to them. "But they're Sterling's. They won't have orders to shoot unless he tells them otherwise.”
"So we're clear," Tristan nods, his blue eyes glittering.
"That's not all," I continue. "He's got guards on the roof, too. And the windows will be locked—but that doesn’t mean they won’t break, especially if we shoot from the inside. Getting out isn’t the issue; it’s getting out without getting our heads blown off.”
"Exactly," Theo replies approvingly.
"So what's the game plan?" Liam asks me. "Theo and I take out the guards while you and Tristan make a break for it?”
"Lucas will be expecting that," I reply. "After last time, we have to assume he's planned for this." I think for another moment and then say, "That means we need to do the opposite. But Liam is our combatant, and if things go south, we'll need you to suppress fire.”
"Nicely done, Vivi," Liam pronounces.
"That just leaves you, Theo," I finish, crossing my arms and turning to him. "The last person Lucas will expect to run away from a showdown with him. If things go south, we rendezvous at the B&B and regroup once we’re all back.”
Theo nods, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That's our girl," he says, and he and the guys pull me into a tight embrace. "Now let's put an end to this.”
Head held high, I lead the group into the reading room: a circular chamber looking out over the lush garden at the center of Craig's property. It's furnished with long, low couches and tall glass cabinets filled with Sterling’s prized personal art collection. Most of the guards are gathered at the base of the stairs, laughing and chatting, their attention far removed from their surroundings. Maybe this will be easier than I thought.
Victor Emmerico is seated in the center of the room, saying something to a pair of his men as he puffs from a cigar. My father sits on the couch opposite him, surrounded by his men, and when his eyes meet mine, his expression is almost deliberately neutral.
Spotting me, Victor’s face goes stony and he signals to his men—half a dozen of them, all of them packing heat. They stand to attention as he gets up, letting his cigar drop into an ashtray on the table. "Well, well, well," he says, his eyes on Theo, "the prodigal son returns. And what's all this?" He glances at Liam and Theo, who have taken their positions on either side of me, their hands on their sidearms. "Raising an army of misfits, are we? Let me guess: traitors from the old org? Defectors from the alliance? Am I getting warmer?”
