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She lifts the weapon toward Rio, cruel intent in her gaze, and I don’t think anymore.
I just grit my teeth and pull the trigger.
My shoulders jerk, and I stagger back a step.
And my daughter’s nanny drops her weapon and falls to the ground with a shocked gasp.
Rio scares me then, lurching up onto his hands and knees and crawling forward through the grass to grab Penn’s gun and hold it.
I thought he was dead, or dying. Maybe he is. Maybe I’ve lost all grip on reality.
Penn stares up at me from the ground, her mouth opening and closing and her eyes wide. “Wow.” Her voice is a wet gurgle. “Didn’t expect you to have the balls forthat, girl.”
She coughs, then keeps coughing, and my legs suddenly don’t want to hold me up anymore.
I find myself on my knees, still clutching thisfucking gun. I throw it to one side and lean forward, retching violently and bringing up everything in my stomach.
I barely even flinch when anotherpopsounds. Rio, finishing the job I started? I risk a glance up, then quickly look away.
Yep. He finished the job.
I keep my gaze averted from the result and begin to sob, hugging my stomach and wondering if I’m about to throw up again. There’s nothing left in there. Ican’tthrow up again.
How has this happened? How in a million fuckingyearshas this happened? I have just become one of them. A monster. A murderer.
A Mafia princess with blood on my hands and the darkest of empty places where my heart used to be.
Just like Rio. Only far, far worse. Because Rio was born to this life, raised in it, and has never known anything different. In many ways, he’s never had a choice regarding his path in life.
Unlike me. I knew different. I knew better, and I’ve sure as hell had options that didn’t lead here.
But the choices I’ve made have led to this. And for what? Fornothing.
Because I still don’t have my beautiful daughter back.
And now, I’ve given up everything. Including my morality.
27
"Integrity is telling myself the truth. And honesty is telling the truth to other people."
Spencer Johnson
Bianca
Rio’slabored breathing breaks through my growing hysteria, and I come back to reality with a burst of adrenaline that spikes my heart rate.
He was shot. How could I forget that? My husband wasshot,and I need to get him help.
I need to be strong now. Not weak.
I have to be a proper mob boss’s wife, and I need to step up and help him in his moment of need, even if I want to run as fast as I can from this place of destruction.
You did help him already, my mind whispers.Youshotsomeone for him.
I stagger up to my feet, away from the putrid pile of vomit on the ground. I studiously ignore Pe—no, don’t give her a name, my mind screams at me. I ignore thefemale bodysprawled in the dirt, and make my way over to where Rio ended up when he crawled to grab the female’s weapon.
He’s swaying on his knees, and his normally tanned face has a pale, sweaty sheen.
