The woman’s face flashes behind my closed eyes, but this time her features shift and morph into another woman’s. It’s Aurora lying there, covered in blood, dying. She begs me to help her. Reaches for me. When I try to grasp her hand, she dissolves into nothing. All I hear inside my head is her crying out in pain.

  I flop onto my side and slam my fist into my pillow, trying to force it into a comfortable shape, but it doesn’t work. I roll onto the other side, but neither one works. “Goddamn it.”

  I throw back the covers, grab a pair of briefs, and head downstairs to the bar. The bottle of The Devil’s Keep is where I left it. I pour a more than generous amount into a glass and toss it back. Then, I fill it again. And again. I lose track of how many times. A blinding light shines in my eyes.

  “Jaysus, Jack.” Paddy’s blurry face appears in front of me. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Not enough.” The words come out slurred, and I hold up my empty rocks glass. The weight of it is too heavy for me, and my arm falls to my side, the glass tumbling out of my fingers to roll onto the floor. When did I make it to the sofa?

  “Christ. You need to go to bed. Come on.” Paddy slips my arm over his shoulders, wraps his arm around my waist, and hauls me to my feet. We both stumble, and he’s barely able to right us. He curses again.

  “She looked like Aurora,” I mumble.

  “Who did?” He asks as he half drags me through the den. My feet move, but it’s like they’re attached to another body.

  “The dead woman.”

  “You’ve clearly had too much. You’re not thinking straight,” he says.

  Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. And maybe I don’t want to. Somehow, we’re upstairs. Paddy lowers me onto my bed.

  “Get some sleep,” I think he says, but then all my thoughts are gone.

  Chapter 13

  Aurora

  * * *

  Pain.

  I’m awash in nothing but red-hot pain. I try opening my eyes, but even that hurts. Whispers come to me, but I can’t make out the words. Blackness surrounds me, and I let myself succumb to its hold. Anything to stop the pain.

  God, why does everything hurt so much? Voices rise and fall. I flinch at the sound.

  “She moved,” someone says. I don’t recognize the speaker.

  I try to force my eyes open, but they’re so heavy. It’s as though they’re glued shut. I keep trying, and finally, I manage to crack open my right one. A bright light shines in, and I slam it shut, groaning with pain.

  “Rory,” a soft voice whispers in my ear. “It’s Lucia. You’re safe. Can you hear me?”

  The word plays on repeat inside my brain. I’ve forgotten what it even means to be safe. When was the last time I felt that way? The answer is elusive, like the misty fog that clouds my mind. Where am I? I’m floating. Drifting along in the darkness. It’s comfortable here. There’s no pain. It’s dark. I let it fully embrace me.

  I open my eye slowly. Why can’t I open the other one? Soft, ambient light brightens the room enough that I can make out a figure slumped in a chair in front of the window. Beeps and whooshing sounds come from somewhere behind my head. My entire body throbs. I blink a few times, trying to bring everything into focus, and reach up to touch my face. A bandage covers the left side of it. A cast encases my arm from elbow to fingers.

  Across from me, mounted against the wall, is a giant white board. In messy handwriting, there’s a bunch of information written on it. A Dr.’s name. Nurses’. A schedule of some kind. My gaze latches onto the IV stand and clear, plastic bag hanging from it. I watch, almost fascinated, as a single drop of clear fluid drips into the tubing.

  My gaze follows the tube until I reach my hand and the place where, if I was staring at a pirate’s treasure map, an X marks the spot. Why am I in the hospital? Flashes of memories come to me.

  Lucia and me in the library.

  Irene bringing us coffee.

  The two of us arguing.

  Then everything is a blur.

  I turn my head back to the shadowed figure in the chair. With my vision somewhat cleared I can just make out the long, dark hair and a portion of her features. It’s Lucia. There’s a soft rapping at the door, and a nurse enters, the lights of the hallway behind her bright and blinding.

  She smiles. “Oh, good, you’re awake. I’m Polly, your nurse for tonight. How are you feeling?”

  “Sore. Confused. What happened?” I ask.

  Against the window, Lucia stirs. “Aurora?” She rushes over and gently grabs my hand, careful of the IV.

  “Lucy?” My old nickname for her slips out. “What happened?”

  Lucia glances up at the nurse and back to me. “You don’t remember?”

  I shake my head, but a stabbing pain stops the movement short. I groan.

  “It’s actually about time for your pain medicine. I’ll be back in just a moment,” the nurse says before departing and closing the door softly behind her.

  Lucia releases my hand only long enough to grab the bedside chair and pull it closer. Then she reaches for me again. A gentle caress from her thumb glides along my knuckles. Her expression is sorrowful, and her eyes are red and swollen.

  “What happened? I repeat.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “We were fighting.”

  “Is that all?” she asks.

  My gaze darts across her face. “Why are you being so cagey? And why am I in the hospital?”

  Her throat bobs. “I didn’t like the way things were left between us, so I tried calling you. And calling you. But you didn’t answer. I got worried, so I went back to your house. Irene let me in, saying Alessandro was going to kill you.”

  At last, flashes of memories start to rush in.

  My bedroom door slams open, and I cry out.

  “You stupid bitch,” Alessandro roars, spittle flying everywhere. His face is cherry red with rage. He advances on me. “How dare you betray me like this.”

  I scramble backwards off the vanity chair and throw my arm out as though that will ward him off. “Please. Stop. I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Alessandro. Please.”

  No pleading or begging is going to stop him. His rage is too far gone. He lunges. I dodge away, but I’m not fast enough. He snatches my hair and yanks me toward him. Pain shoots through my head. I claw at his arm, screaming, but his hold tightens. His fist flies at my cheek, landing with a crunch. More screams. More punches. Warm blood pours down my face. The copper flavor of it rolls across my tongue. I try to speak, but it’s garbled nonsense. The pain is too much. Please make it stop.

  Alessandro throws me to the ground. I try to brace myself. I land on my arm. Another crunch. A position formed by habit, I curl into a ball and cover my head. Searing agony shoots across my still wounded back from his kicks. They’re relentless. He’s never going to stop. I’m going to die. Sounds fade in and out. There’s a buzzing in my ears. Then…nothing at all.

  I blink, and the memory fades. A shuddering breath escapes, and I glance over to Lucia. Pity shows in her eyes.

  “Where is Alessandro, now?” The words come out choked. My whole body shakes with fear.

  “No one seems to know. He’s apparently made himself scarce,” Lucia says with a note of anger.

  Fear of a whole new kind sets in.

  “I called my boss. I’m taking an indefinite leave of absence from work. I’m going to stay here for a little bit. At least until you figure things out,” she says, as though reading my mind.

  “Lucia, no,” the protest quickly falls from my lips. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  She squeezes my hand. “You didn’t ask me, and I know you wouldn’t have. Which is why I made the decision without you. I can’t leave. Not yet. Not with Alessandro hiding somewhere.”

  Someone knocks on the door, and it opens again. “I have your pain medicine.”

  I take the small plastic cup Polly offers and swallow the single pill it holds. Lucia holds my cup while I drink water from the straw.

  “If you need anything else, be sure to use your call bell,” she says before heading out the door.

  With an exhausted sigh, I drop my head back on the pillow and wince at the pain. Tears prick my eye. My mind works to try and figure out what is going to happen, but fatigue starts to overwhelm me. I can’t stifle my yawn.

  “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be here when you wake up, and we can talk some more then, okay?” Lucia says.

  I don’t want to rest, but I don’t think I’m going to have a choice. “I’m afraid this will all be just a dream if I do,” I confess.

  “You don’t have to be scared, Rory. I’m here. You’re finally free.”

  Free? What does that even mean? I’ve never been free. Not really. She also doesn’t know Alessandro like I do. No matter what, he’ll never let me go. Never. He’ll kill me first.

  Chapter 14

  Jack

  * * *

  “We have a situation.” Emilio’s lips flatten tightly.

  My brothers and I sit in his office on the twentieth floor of Empire, the casino owned by the syndicate. Pierce stands against the wall by the door. His usual aura of anger burns even brighter. Hotter. Something big has to have gone down.

  “What kind of situation?” I ask.

  “It has come to my attention that one of the syndicate’s business associates has been physically abusing his wife. Nearly killed her last night. She’s currently at Kings County Medical,” he says.

  Pierce slams a fist into the wall at his hip. My brothers and I jerk our heads in his direction, before turning back to Emilio, who sits forward in his chair. He lays his chin on steepled fingers. That little warning bell starts going off in my brain again.

  “If that isn’t bad enough, she’s also a relative of ours,” he adds. “A cousin somewhere on my mother’s side.”

  The bell gets a little louder. “And the husband?”

  Emilio’s eyes meet mine. “Alessandro Costa.”

  “Feck,” Paddy curses from beside me, but I ignore him.

  My fingers grip the arms of the chair so tightly they ache. My gaze doesn’t leave my brother-in-law’s. “What do you plan on doing about this situation?” I grind out between a clenched jaw.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Emilio says. “No one seems to know where he is. But even if I did, it isn’t customary to interfere in marriages within the syndicate. It sets a precedent.”

  “The man put her in the fucking hospital.” I slam my fist on the armrest. “Who the fuck cares about precedence? She’s not just some syndicate wife, Emilio. She’s your goddamn relative.”

  “I understand that. However, Alessandro is a long-time associate of the organization. Our business dealings are mutually profitable. He is also one of my father’s former friends.”

  His calm response pisses me off. I jump to my feet, nearly tipping the chair over, and smack my palms on the desk. From my periphery, Pierce takes a step forward. My brothers shuffle in their chairs behind me. I ignore all of them. My sole focus is on Emilio. I lean forward, nearly looming over the man sitting far too nonchalantly behind his desk. He raises a single brow, but otherwise doesn’t move an inch.

  “I don’t give a fuck who he is,” I sneer. “You won’t stand for the Russians abusing your wife, or your cousin. But some piece of shit Italian beats his wife, your relative, and you look the other way?”

  Emilio is entirely unconcerned with my rage. “Did I say anything about looking the other way? I merely said I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about him once he’s located.”

  I slowly stand upright and stare down at him. “I suggest you figure it out quickly. Because if you don’t do something about that fucker, I will.”

  We remain in a silent standoff for several beats, until I turn, walk past Pierce, who’s watching me with narrowed eyes, and out the door. I reach the elevator at the end of the hall before Paddy and Nathan catch up.

  “Are you out of your fecking mind?” Paddy snaps the second the metal door glides shut, closing us inside. He jams his finger into the button for the ground floor and pivots toward me. “You get stupid drunk last night because some dead woman reminds you of this Aurora chick. And you’re now threatening the head of the Italian mafia. Our allies. Our goddamn brother-in-law. Over that same fecking woman?”

  I slam my palms against his chest and shove him into the mirrored wall. He collides with it and the whole car rattles.

  “What the fuck, Jack?” Nathan hollers and tries to pull my arm off Padraig, but I don’t give an inch.

  “He could have killed her,” I growl.

  “And I feel bad for the poor girl, but it’s none of your business. None of our business. She’s not Irish. Let the Italians deal with it,” he says.

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Are you even thinking of the ramifications of what could happen to our alliance?” Paddy snaps.

  Nathan manages to wedge himself between us and pushes me back. He places a hand on both our chests. His head swivels, his gaze bouncing back and forth between us. “Somebody needs to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Paddy jabs a finger in my direction. “This idiot plans on starting a war for pussy.”

  I lunge with a roar of fury. I’m beyond seeing reason, and he’s only pissing me off more. Nathan nearly tackles me to hold me back. “Jesus. Calm down, Jack.”

  Helplessness rushes through me. All I can picture is a battered and bruised Aurora lying in a hospital bed. The rage returns when I think about that fat fuck putting his hands on her. I raise my hands in surrender and take a step away, just as the elevator door opens. Several people stand outside staring.

  Paddy steps out first and turns to me. “Don’t do something stupid that you can’t take back. You better decide if you’re willing to go to war for this woman. Because if you follow through with your threat against Emilio, that’s what it’s going to lead to. This isn’t just about you. It’s our whole family. Brenna.”

  He leaves Nathan and me standing there until the doors start to close. I slap my hand against it and push it open before storming out, my youngest brother hot on my heels.

  “Please tell me what the fuck just happened back there?” he growls almost beneath his breath to avoid drawing attention.

  “It’s nothing.”

  He stops me with a forearm across my chest. I glare down at it before raising my eyes to meet his. I cock my head and he removes it. “I told you, it’s nothing. Now let it go, Nathan.”

  I step past him and cross through the casino floor until I’m standing out front of the building. Padraig is nowhere to be found. Nathan comes to a stop beside me.

  “Here.” I hand him the keys. “Take the car home.”

  “Where are you going?” he pockets them.

  “I’ll be home later,” I tell him.

  “Jack,” Nathan draws out my name.

  I hail a passing taxi and climb in without a backward glance. “Kings County Medical.”

  Nearly forty minutes later, I’m standing in front of a closed door, the sterile scent of a hospital filling my senses. The fluorescent light just above me hums and flickers, casting strobe-like shadows across the wooden surface I’m struggling to knock on. What the fuck am I even doing here? Paddy’s harsh warning echoes inside me.

  This is a mistake.

  I turn away, cursing myself for being here, and nearly collide with someone. “Shit, sorry.”

  “Jack?”

  Standing there with a puzzled expression on her face and holding a styrofoam cup with a straw speared through its lid is Aurora’s aunt. “Lucia,” I nod my head in greeting.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  A flush rises up my neck. “I heard what happened. Is she okay?”

  Her expression shifts to sadness and then, just as quickly, anger. “Physically? She’s going to be fine. It’ll just take some time. Emotionally? Mentally? I don’t know. Alessandro really fucked with her head.”

  “I’m sorry she’s going through this.”

  She gestures toward the door. “You’re welcome to go in. I’m sure she’d be glad to see you.”

  “No. I better not,” I say, finally coming to my senses. “Thanks for letting me know how she’s doing.”

  Lucia cocks her head. “Not a problem. Are you sure you don’t at least want to poke your head in?”

  “I’m sure.” I slip around her with a nod. “Take care.”

  “You, too.”

  Behind me the door opens and closes, but my steps don’t pause. Paddy’s right. This is none of my business. I have to trust that Emilio will handle things. He’s honorable. It may not get resolved with blood the way it will if I have anything to say about it. But it’s not my place to seek vengeance. Aurora is no one to me.

  Chapter 15

  Aurora

  * * *

  Lucia sets my glass of water on the bedside table and takes her seat beside my bed.

  “I just met someone outside your door,” she says, a little too casually.

  My forehead wrinkles. “Who?”

  She slides back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other in a slow, dramatic fashion. “Jack Donnelly.”

  “I’m sorry, what? Did you say Jack was here?”

  Lucia’s grin is shit-eating. “He was standing right outside that door,”—she gestures with a pointed finger—“when I came back from the ice and water machine. It looked like he might have been about to knock. Except, then he turned around like he was leaving and almost ran me over.”

  “Jack Donnelly? Was here?” I sound like a parrot, but it’s just not processing.