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“You’re wrong.” I stand too, meeting her on the same level. “And you’re ending this crusade against them. Call Pastore and tell him to stop. This is over.”
“Over?” She laughs, loud and maniacal and way too far outside the realm of sane. “Shit, Cannon, it’s just beginning!”
She looks to her left, her timing perfect as Emilio Pastore himself wanders through my door brandishing a long-barreled handgun and a sneer that makes my stomach topple.
“Hmmm…” He’s a middle-aged man. Perhaps almost my father’s age, but he doesn’t look well. His hair is oily, his stubble, graying and messy. His eyes are sunken, and his cheeks are hollow.
I’ve never met Emilio in person before, but I’ve seen him. In pictures in the paper. On the news. New York treats its crime families the way Los Angeles treats celebrities, so I know that this version of Emilio and the one we see in the media are not the same.
“Christabelle Cannon.” He holds his gun with a hand missing its ring finger. A feature I know now is repayment from the Malones for what he did to Micah. “I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you after being pen pals for so long.”
My stomach whooshes, the knowledge that Felix will soon know the depths of my betrayal, making me sick.
“It ends today, Emilio.” I have no weapon to protect myself with. No knife to grab. No gun hidden away for this moment, though I knew it was coming. There’s just me and my courageousness—perhaps the only selfless thing I can gift Felix before this is all said and done. “You won’t destroy that family. You will not win.”
He chuckles, sauntering into my office with a grin matching Savannah’s. “You seem so sure. And yet…” He lifts his gun and looks straight down the barrel, into my eyes. “You have no way of knowing how this ends, considering you’ll be dead before our raid.”
“You don’t get to backdoor it out of our plans,” Savannah hisses, her hair falling forward so strands obstruct her eyes. “You wanted vengeance too, Cannon. You came to us!”
“And I was wrong.” I straighten my shoulders and elongate my neck.My pride and bravery the only defenses I have tonight. “I was unhappy. Grieving. My sister had been murdered, and her baby stolen. My father and I were given no closure.”
“So take your closure now! Finish this out the way we planned.”
“I was suffering,” I continue, my voice the calm antithesis to her crazy. “In a bad place. My father still suffers. So I needed closure for the tragedy that happened eighteen years ago.”
“And now you have a chance to take it,” Pastore sneers. He tilts his head to the side and burns me with his stare. “We’re so close.”
“But I got my closure.” I glance down to the article on my desk and allow a small smile to cross my lips.
My heart skips with nerves. With adrenaline. But oddly, not with fear, despite the danger I’ve placed myself in.
“I had dinner with my nephew last night. He’s…” Then I cough out a soft laugh. “Strange, for sure. But he’s loved. He was raised in an unconventional world, but he’s still here, the last living connection I have to my sister. And it’s fitting, because Charlotte was always a little strange, too. She was impulsive and wild and all the things I was never brave enough to be.”
“He’s a sewer rat!” Savannah snaps loudly. “His birthday marks the date I died. The date my life was taken from me!”
“He was an infant,” I whip back. I work so hard to keep my temper on a tight leash. To tamp it down and remain calm. “He was a baby, Savannah. No one is denying the things that happened to you. In fact, you have Felix Malone’s loyalty and love forever. What you have is special! But you’re so set on exacting revenge against a man who isn’t even alive anymore, you’re killing yourself and destroying the life youcouldbe living.”
“You mean like the life you were living only last week? The intense need to research the Malones until you made yourself sick with stress. Your plan to slide into his home—better yet, to make him think it washisidea. That life? Is that the one you think I should be experiencing?”
“I want you to grow. To heal. To love yourself enough to let Tim go.”
“Let him go?” With an animalistic roar, she storms forward and swings her arm out, slapping me across the face so hard, I spin.
My head explodes with pain, my skin, hot like fire. My feet twist,and when I throw my arms out to catch myself, my wrist slams against the edge of my desk and bursts with fresh pain.
“He.Raped.Me!” she booms. “I was a child! I won’t let that go.”
“I meant for your own wellbeing.” I can’t help the tears that stream down my cheeks. The break in my voice. “I mean for your own healing. He’s dead, Savannah.”
“And now Felix will die, too.” She stands over me, her fists balled in rage. “And if you thought jumping the fence and taking his side would save you, then I guess you’ll die too.”
“Let’s take this someplace else.” Pastore comes around my desk and grabs my aching wrist, hauling me to my feet, uncaring when I cry out.
He’s a sick man. Mentally and physically. If he wasn’t moving and speaking, I’d think the gray pallor of his skin was an indication he’s already dead.
“I’m bringing you to my home, beautiful Christabelle. I have a room set up for situations like this. Tools already set aside. If we look closely, we might see Micah Malone’s blood still staining the walls.”
“Sheneeds help,” I spit out, snarling when his fist tightens around my arm. “Youneed a bullet between your eyes.”
