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“Where are the rest of Riccardo Mezzasalma’s men?” I asked.
Duran appeared behind us, looking like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair fell over his forehead in a messy tangle.
“We rounded them up,” he said. “They’re in holding cells.”
We stood at the edge of the cliff. Down below, the river churned and crashed against the shoreline. I lifted my chin, my jaw set. There was nothing inside me anymore except this horrible, driving pain like a steel spike was being forced right through my heart.
“I want them to suffer,” I said. “And if there are traitors, I want them to die today.”
“Liv,” Cosimo said, shifting uncomfortably.
I turned on him, glaring up into his face. “Lucien is my husband. Don’t underestimate what I’ll do to get him back.”
Duran inclined his head. “Whatever you say.”
I turned and began walking quickly back towards the house. The yard was peppered with bullet holes, the garden was torn apart by footprints, and the pool was crimson. At the edge lay Riccardo Mezzasalma’s inert form, drained of blood and white as the cloudy sky overhead.
“Put his body in the house,” I said. “Burn the house to the ground.”
I went to the car and slammed the door. The white leather of the seat swam before my eyes, but I refused to cry. When I got my husband back safe and sound I would cry, but right now I would be as cold as ice and strong as steel.
I kept my gaze ahead and my spine straight. When Cosimo got back into the car, he was quiet all the rest of the way to our parent’s home. He pulled up before the door and cut the engine. I watched him stare through the windshield. Glazed over.
“Cosimo,” I said.
He shook himself. “Sorry, let me get the door.”
Before I could speak, he jumped out and circled the car to help me out. I froze, standing in the drive, and my fingers clenched into a fist. My knuckles burned, the dry skin splitting.
“I wish it had been different,” Cosimo said softly. “I know you forgive me for not doing enough to protect you back then…but I never will.”
“What could you have done?” I said, my voice rasping. I cleared my throat, hoping I didn’t sound like I was about to cry.
He shrugged. “Perhaps we could have run away. Lived in the woods like the children from our storybooks.”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “No. You never had any power. And I never would have met Lucien.”
His hand slid over my shoulders and he pulled me against his side. Standing here in this place where we’d formed our first memories was surreal and overwhelming.
“Do you feel small? I whispered.
His voice was hoarse. “I feel small,” he said.
We stood there, arms around each other. I took a deep breath and he felt it shudder through me. He shifted and brushed back my hair, his lips thinning as he looked down into my face.
“We’ll get him back,” he said softly.
“I know,” I said firmly. “If he was dead, I would feel it. But I can feel him still, somewhere close. Where’s Viktor?”
“He’s still combing the river,” said Cosimo, releasing me and leading the way up the porch. The floorboards creaked and the door hinges whined as he pushed it open. Dust fell in a little puff around us.
I stepped into the hall. Stopping right where I’d stood the first time I ever met my husband. I could tell because there was a little knot filled with plastic wood.
“Until Lucien is found, I am in charge,” I said, fire starting in my chest. “If anyone disputes that, deal with them. I know I can count on you and Duran.”
He inclined his head without hesitation. “I’ll deal with Mezzasalma’s men. Is there anything else?”
I made a slow circle, evaluating the house. “When the city’s been secured, I want my sons brought from the island.”
