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I grunt as I hit the ground, hating that they're now towering over me and smiling like they enjoy the view. I swallow back my sickness.
"I'll only ask this once, Rivera bitch. Where is he?"
"I don't know."
He doesn't accept that answer. I gasp in pain and shock as he wrenches me up off the ground by my hair. He shoves me against a wall hard enough that the air is pushed from my chest, and I struggle for breath as his hand tightens around my throat, fingers digging painfully into my tender flesh. His sick, shallow eyes leer down into mine, and I recoil from the scent of sickly-sweet smoke on his breath.
"I'm going to give you one more fucking chance before Al Bones starts using you as a punching bag. Where. The fuck. Is. The Undertaker?"
I'm frozen in the face of the man who murdered my twin. Maybe she stared at her own reflection in his eyes just like I'm doing now. Angela would fight back for all she was worth if she was in this situation. That's probably exactly what she tried to do before he spilled her brains.
I can't afford that. I have Nico's baby to think about. And I have to find Nico, Ace and Percy need his help. So, when he snarls and whips his hand back like he's decided to take the first hit, I scream, "North! He took the 87 North!"
Mad Blood stops and wrinkles his face at me, so I have a detailed view of his nose hair. "You're lying."
I throw all my acting skills into this and choke back a sob, which isn't difficult considering I'm in a lot of pain and can barely breathe. Tears well up with ease. "H—he said something about taking whoever shot his penthouse out to somewhere by Rockefeller State Park. He said he didn't want me to see the blood."
My wheezing and trembling must be convincing enough. Mad Blood sneers over his shoulder at Al Bones, who has been examining my legs with far too much interest.“Che fottuto bastardo arrogante. Gli faccio saltare le cervella."
Shit, I caught so little of that. None of my language learning apps have taught me how to interpret snarling mafiosos when spit is flying from their lips like that.
He glares back at me. "When did he leave?"
What's the best answer here? I can't say he's been gone long, but if I underestimate it, he'll know I'm making it all up. "T—ten minutes, I think?" I rasp, still trying to unwrap his fingers from my windpipe.
Mateo finally releases me. I gasp for air, eyes watering when it burns, coughing as my body tries to find a regular breathing pattern again. I hiss when he tugs on the hair on my scalp again, making me look at his smirk.
"What an unfaithful little bitch you are. Serves Attolini right, taking your ass in. You're coming with me, and if we find out you're lying, you're going to fucking regret it. I'll make sure you and good old Angie get matching deaths to compliment your matching faces."
Then he leans closer, and something in me dies when his wet lips brush across my cheek—more a hungry taste than anything like a kiss.
Oh, God. I can't do this.
I gag back more vomit that tries to crawl up my throat as Al Bones hauls me to my feet, ignoring my whimper as he pushes me forward without my crutch. I try to lean over and feel for Ace's pulse, but he jerks my arm and shoves me into the elevator. I fight back more tears as we're alone in Nico's elevator, doors closing on the picture of my two unexpected mafioso friends bleeding out on the white carpet.
If they notice my ankle brace at all, they sure as fuck don't care as they literally drag me out of the elevator. Mad Bones grips my arm hard enough that I know it'll be covered in bruises as we exit the building, not wanting to drag attention to them by pulling me along too obviously. The night sky overhead is filled with dark, angry clouds ready to unleash torrential rain any moment.
As we move towards a Gatto car, my eyes land on a vehicle across the road. Giovanni is slumped over in the driver's seat, covered in blood and motionless. The other two Attolinis are nowhere to be seen.
They shove me in the back seat and drive. Instead of buckling, I curl up in a ball and try to plan for how not to die.
Chapter 26
Nico
I watch the entrance of the abandoned underground bar, aware of my men waiting to strike when I give the signal. Six are walking in with me first, the others ready to file in as backup. They're biting at the bits to be in that place with Lorenze, getting their own revenge.
But I don't want a bloodbath. I don't want to know more widows.
Softness is weakness. Broken bones send a message,my father's past words insist.
I can't show weakness, but I will not start a massacre. Not when I want to change things so quickly after this.
As I watch, a Gatto slinks out of the double glass doors. I recognize him easily, as I make it a habit to know my enemies better than they know themselves. This one is a low-end Gatto who makes a habit of scamming money out of widows, especially Attolini ones. Including Johnny's wife. Anger flares in my chest at the sight of him.
He freezes when his eyes land on me and my men. Before he can bolt back inside, I launch myself forward and grab him, locking his arms behind him and entering the building as Danny opens the door for the rest of us.
The steps down to the old speakeasy area are clearly somewhere in the back, but there are several Gattos here in the entry of this old diner. They quickly jump to attention as we step inside, hands going to guns or knives or whatever they think will help them. They're not the grunts, either. I recognize several of their mid-tier enforcers, an underboss, and a couple of business people who are known to be well-connected with the Gatto family.
