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When I hear the sound of footsteps in the hallway, I leap from the bed and grab my phone and backpack, then dash through the door. The hallway is dark, the only light comes from the chandelier above the stair landing at the end, its glow illuminates the figure a few paces in front of me.
The bag and phone slip out of my hand, dropping to the floor with a thud as panic explodes in my chest.
“Going somewhere, bellissima?”
I freeze, unable to move as if someone glued my feet to the floor. I can’t even speak.
“I got a call earlier.” Rocco takes a step forward. “It was about a brunch party where my wife was apparently kissing her bodyguard. That can’t be true, can it?”
I can’t force words out of my mouth, the only thing I can do is just stand there and stare at him while terror floods my body. Rocco swings his arm, striking my face with such force that I end up knocked into the wall.
“You fucking slut!” Rocco roars and wraps his left hand around my neck. “I’m going to fucking kill you! And then, I’m going to find that lying son of a bitch and skin him alive!”
“He’s gone. And he’s not coming back,” I choke out as I finally break out of my stupor and grab his wrist, trying to dislodge his hand but failing.
You can’t fight me with strength.Alessandro’s voice says in my head.
I shift and duck my head under Rocco’s arm, twisting my whole body in one quick movement. He loses his grip, his fingers slipping off my throat, and I run. My bedroom is close by, so I rush inside and throw my weight against the door, trying to shut it. But Rocco is right on my heels, and he kicks it open. I’m forcefully shoved back, nearly losing my balance in the process. With nowhere else left to go, I turn around to run toward the bathroom, but pain shoots through my head as I’m violently yanked from behind. I scream.
“I love it when you try to fight, bitch.” Rocco laughs as he pulls on my hair.
Raising my hands, I grab his fist on my hair. His grasp hurts so much that tears burst from my eyes, but I make myself bend and rotate my body the way Alessandro showed me. Rocco yells as his wrist gets twisted but keeps his hold on my hair. Even one-handed, his size and strength are crushing my attempts to escape.
You need to go against the weak points.
I glance at Rocco’s right hand, thankful that I at least don’t have to worry about a blow while he’s wrenching on my hair. His injured hand is still tightly wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, and he’s keeping it away from his body, protecting it. I hit it with my forearm, putting as much force into my strike as I can. Rocco howls, releasing my hair, and clutches his injured hand to his chest, nearly falling forward as he does so.
Run. I need to run. The bathroom—but it’s a dead end, and has no lock to keep him out. I turn around instead and step around the screaming Rocco, then dash out of my bedroom. In the hallway, I scoop up my phone and backpack and run toward the staircase.
Chapter 20
The fucking liftgate won’t close.
I pull it up again and move the fuel canisters to the side so I can rearrange the black body bag containing Felix’s present. One of his guys delivered it last week and helped me stash it in the fridge at the back of the storage unit. I have no use for it anymore, and we’ll have to make a pitstop somewhere out of the way where I can torch it.
I’ve already cleared out my apartment of everything that may connect my past to Rocco Pisano. When people realize Ravenna and I have left, and her husband turns up dead shortly after, I don’t want anyone drawing any ties between the two events. The chances of Cosa Nostra being able to track down the hitman Felix hired are slim to none, but I’m not leaving any loose ends.
The liftgate finally locks in place. I take another look around the empty storage unit to make sure I haven’t missed anything, then reach into my pocket and take out a deck of cards. The cards are wrapped in a rubber band, their edges yellow and frayed with age. It’s the same old deck my old man used to teach me to play poker and one of the few things I kept from my childhood. For some reason, I never could make myself throw these away.
The ring of my phone breaks the stillness of the night. I slip the cards back into my pocket and slide behind the wheel, taking the phone off the dash. The screen flashes with Ravenna’s name. She’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long. I can’t keep a smile off my lips as I picture her standing at the window, waiting for me, so my thumb is quick to hit call answer as I press the phone to my ear.
“He’s here,” Ravenna’s frantic whispering comes across the line.
My body stills, ice filling my veins.
Click.
The call disconnects.
“I’m coming, Ravi,” I say even though she can't hear me, and peel out with my heart in my throat.
The storage unit is twenty minutes away from the Pisano mansion. I floor it, ignoring the needle as it rises to nearly 125 on a dial, and try to swallow the wave of panic swelling within me. The vehicles I pass end up being just a swipe of light—there one moment and gone the next. The closer I get, the stronger my fear becomes, as I imagine what that motherfucker could be doing to Ravenna. Knowing that the life of the woman I love depends on me keeping my cool is the only thing stopping me from losing my shit completely.
I pull up and park out of sight of the guardhouse. It’s likely that Rocco gave orders to stop me if the guards see me coming, and I can’t risk them alerting their boss about my arrival. I extract a set of throwing knives I keep hidden under the seat and get out of the car.
Scoping out the area, I spot one guard at the front of the gate, an M16 hanging across his back. The other one is inside the guardhouse, watching the monitors. I creep from tree to tree until I’m close enough to throw one of my knives. It sails into the gate guy’s neck, and the man falls to his knees. His buddy in the guardhouse leaps from his chair and springs outside. I launch two blades at him. The first ends up in his chest, and the other just below his Adam’s apple. Stopping only long enough to slice their necks and retrieve my knives, I double back to take care of the three guys positioned outside the perimeter wall. Keeping clear of cameras along the edge of the property, I pick Rocco’s guys off in quick succession by putting a bullet through each of their heads. The suppressor on my gun makes sure anyone in the mansion remains none the wiser.
The light in the entry hall is on, but no one seems to be around. I’m running to the stairs when a big crash echoes somewhere to my right. Changing direction, I race toward the east wing of the house and the cacophony of breaking glass.
