“So, you did kill the Russian.”

  I pause for a moment before opening the door. He allows me to leave the room, and I’m grateful. I know I can only remain in this numb state for so long. Sooner or later, this darkness will give way to anger, and there is no room for blind rage when dealing with Enrique. He will undoubtedly die, that is the one thing I am sure of, but anger will not achieve that. I have learned my lesson on that front.

  Days pass, one blending into the next in one monotonous existence. I’m not sure if I’m buried in my grief or am simply clinging to it now. I’ve come to like the bleak, gray fog that makes everything else fuzzy and unfocused. Every so often, I drift down memory lane. I picture Gabi’s face a hundred different ways, from childhood until her brutal death, and it always hurts.

  I expected Enrique to taunt and mock me in my fractured state, but he doesn’t. The door to my room isn’t even locked. He has no need to imprison me because he’s broken my spirit, and he knows it. With Gabi’s death, he’s played his ultimate card.

  I lie on my back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, a loud shout cuts through the peace in the house, more like a roar, really. It’s enough to plant a grain of intrigue. I sit up, peering through the tiny gap in the door. Pushing to my feet, I tiptoe into the hall. The sound of things smashing and breaking travels up the stairs. I find myself creeping forward onto the top step of the stairs, then the next.

  “Who was it?” Enrique shouts.

  “The bodies bore the kiss of death,” someone answers.

  “Damn it!” More smashing, and a tense silence that seems to entomb the entire house.

  For the first time in what feels like forever, my spirits lift a little, and a tiny smile touches my lips. Una is making her move, and Enrique is powerless against death herself. I know this will only be the beginning of Nero’s strike.

  “The shipment?”

  “Gone, sir.”

  “Fuck!” More banging. “Fuck! Fuck!” I’ve never heard Enrique so unhinged or enraged.

  There’s a beat of silence, and a door slams before the distinctive clicking of shoes over marble comes down the hall. I scamper away, crossing the landing to my room. A few seconds later, and I hear someone in the hall. My bedroom door is thrown open with so much force that it collides against the wall with a crack.

  Enrique stands there, his shoulders heaving on ragged breaths, pure rage covering his features.

  I sit up on the bed, crossing my legs as I stare at him.

  “Your sister has been dead over a week,” he says, and it’s like a knife burying itself between my ribs.

  A whole week without her. In some ways, it feels so much longer as though I’ve been suffering for years, and in other ways, it feels like the blink of an eye as though it were only yesterday that I was talking to her.

  “Her assets should have legally passed to you.”

  I frown, and a snort slips from my throat. “You murdered her. In suspicious circumstances, I think you’ll find it takes a long time to settle a will.”

  His jaw clenches, a breath hissing from him. “You’re the executor, are you not?”

  “No.”

  “Then who is?”

  “Lorenzo.” He taps his foot over the ground. “What is it you want, Enrique?”

  “The Ricci business, of course.”

  “Well, you can’t have it. I’ll die before I let you kill my sister and take what was hers.”

  He steps farther into the room. “Oh, but you will inherit it, and what’s yours is mine, dear wife.”

  “Only if I allow you to have it.”

  A menacing grin covers his face. “I could always just kill you. You have no family left…except for your husband.”

  I can’t help but smile because he thinks he’s so clever. “Actually, in the event of my death, everything passes to Lorenzo.” I push off the bed and walk towards him, my bare feet padding over the thick rug. “Either way, you lose, Enrique.”

  I can almost see him bubbling over, tipping over the edge. His fists clench, muscles twitching with the urge to no doubt lash out and hurt me. Instead, he closes the small distance between us, his chest bumping mine. The woodsy scent of his cologne greets me—a smell that now makes my stomach turn. It’s the smell of death and sadness and pain.

  “Una Ivanov is coming for me, and she’s coming for you. You once said we could be powerful together. If we do not show that power, then she will destroy us both.”

  I meet his nearly black eyes. “I did say that once.” I lean in closer, until my lips are only inches from his neck. “Before you killed Gabi. Now…” I pull back, sneering at him. “I’ll die happily as long as she takes you down, too.”

  The ticcing in his jaw becomes more erratic, and he inhales a deep breath. He’s trying to remain calm, but I see in his eyes how much he wants to hurt me, like a child who isn’t getting his way. He wants to smash and break and scream.

  He removes a phone from his pocket and hands it to me. “Call Lorenzo. Tell him you want to allow my men use of Milazzo port.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  His grip on the phone tightens, turning his knuckles white. “Half your sister’s clients have already come to me. The Ricci name is dying, Adelina. We can be the start of a new legacy—t he Ricci-Bianchi empire. The Bianchi family is powerful, you know this. I can protect you from Una’s wrath, principessa. Or, I can let her have you. If we aren’t allies, we’re enemies. Either way, I will thrive, with or without your help. I always do.”

  For once, I don’t feel helpless. I have the upper hand here because I know what he doesn’t. Sasha is alive, and it’s not me that Una is coming for. I won’t help him, though, because I will help Una. Taking his shipments is just the first step, and Enrique knows it every bit as much as I do. Without supply, you cannot meet demand, and customers are fickle. They will go elsewhere if they can’t get their guns and drugs. Enrique’s issues are not theirs, after all, and these men are unscrupulous. I won’t help him get those shipments. I’ll watch him crumble.

  “Like I said, I’ll die happily as long as she takes you down.” I barely finish the sentence before the back of his hand meets my face so hard that I hit the ground, my palms colliding with the thick rug. The metallic tang of blood explodes on my tongue, and I laugh, the sound maniacal, even to my own ears. I laugh and laugh as I look up at him. “You’re fucked!”

  His features darken, his body physically trembling. This is the moment he realizes, he played his trump card too soon. In killing Gabi, he’s fucked himself over because there are no more bargaining chips. He killed her to spite me, like the spoiled brat he is, and now everything he holds so dear is going to burn around him. I’m ready to dance in the flames.

  He swings for me, his closed fist colliding with my jaw hard enough that I hear something crack. Then he kicks me, his foot meeting my already fragile ribs. The pain is excruciating, and my vision blacks out for a moment as my lungs are suddenly incapacitated. By the time I manage to drag in a trickle of air again, Enrique is gone.

  Despite the agony, I smile. He’s cracking, and I want to be there when he’s torn apart.

  16

  Sasha

  Lorenzo sits at Gabriella’s desk, his gaze distant as he clutches a glass of whiskey. He’s supposed to be running the family business in Adelina’s stead, now that Gabriella is dead. Though truthfully, I think her death has hit the old man a lot harder than he would admit. Sometimes, mid-conversation, he does this—just drifts off and stares into space. To add to the troubles, all the Ricci clients are bailing, sensing that their supply chain may not be the most secure. And guess who is there to pick up the pieces? Bianchi is pillaging everything that was once theirs, taking it for his own.

  He has an ever-growing foothold here in Sicily, dominating the competition. I know for a fact that Nero doesn’t like it. He’s watched from the sidelines, waiting to see how this will play out, all the while, quietly backing Bianchi’s enemy, the only ones who stood a chance of beating him. Look at what it’s cost them now.

  Gabriella is dead. Adelina is married to the guy, enduring who knows what under his roof. It’s all gone to shit. And me? I feel lost, broken, and completely at a loss as to what I should be doing anymore. I want so badly to go after him and kill him, but as Una pointed out, if I fail, then I’ll only succeed in revealing I’m alive and endangering Adelina. I’m forced to wait on Nero for a plan and reinforcements. There’s nothing else I can do.

  The phone on the desk rings, the sound cutting through the silence that has settled over the room. Lorenzo blinks as though coming out of a trance and answers it.

  “Yeah?” A pause. “Okay, let her in.” He places the receiver down and looks at me, a line sinking between his brows. “Una Ivanov is here.”

  Una’s here? Now? I push to my feet and cut through the house, exiting through the side door. I round the corner of the villa in time to see several SUVs pull up in front of the destroyed front porch. A rear door is thrown open, and one booted foot touches the ground before Una comes into sight. She props a hand on her hip, long, silvery-blond hair hanging over her shoulder in a braid. She’s dressed head to toe in black, weapons strapped to her everywhere. This isn’t a social visit. Men start disembarking from the vehicles around her, unloading weapons and supplies. The picturesque gardens of the Ricci villa quickly look like the preparation for a war zone.

  Una strides over to me. “Sasha.”

  “Una. Why are you here?”

  Her bright red lips press together before she moves past me. “Walk with me.”

  I turn, suspicion eating away at me as I follow her through the gardens.

  She walks with purpose, her spine rigid. “The situation with Bianchi has gone on long enough.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  She stops and turns to face me. “Nero seemed content with the fact that he was dead, but now Bianchi is alive, and Nero is being impossible.”

  I cock a brow, failing to see what this has to do with anything.

  “He offered both the Ricci sisters an alliance, believing that Adelina could handle Enrique, and Nero would have a foothold in Sicily.”

  I glance out over the carpet-like grass, hating that Adelina and her sister are both no longer here, and yet the house and grounds all continue to flourish without them.

  “So, you’re here for business, nothing else?”

  “Gabriella is dead. The Ricci family hangs by a thread, and the only remaining member is married to Bianchi. With Gabriella gone, he’s now taking all her customers. He just made a deal with one of the biggest purchasers of guns in Africa—one of Eduardo Ricci’s old friends.”

  “I’m aware of all that, but why does any of this effect Nero?”

  “Enrique attacked our home. From that moment, Nero was always going to destroy him.”

  “Then why not just get on with it? Why has he hidden in New York, letting Adelina do his work for him?” I’m annoyed that to both of them, Adelina has and always will be a pawn.

  She’s an innocent girl, barely able to comprehend the scale of what she’s now in the middle of, and yet their blatant disregard for her safety is very apparent. I always thought I would have Una’s loyalty as she has had mine, but I feel betrayed here.

  “The boss of the Italian mafia cannot simply take out a Sicilian family head,” she snaps.

  “And yet, here you are.”

  “Yes, me. The Kiss of Death, Una Ivanov, alone. Independent. Nero cannot be directly involved in this.”

  “Why not? It’s Nero. Don’t tell me he cares for the rules.”

  He certainly didn’t care when Nicholai took Una. He literally killed Russian women and children to get her back. Where were his politics then?

  “He’s no longer just a capo. He’s the boss. It’s different.” She sighs and tips her chin to her chest, staring at the ground. “Look, Sicily is the best shipping point for weapons and drugs to Africa. He who holds power here…”

  “He can’t stand that Bianchi might have more power than him.”

  She nods while shrugging a shoulder. Una and I are soldiers. We don’t care for politics or power, so I know this has nothing to do with her, not really. “If Bianchi is dead, Adelina can assume power…”

  Of course. And wouldn’t she be so perfect. Alone, isolated, left clinging to a legacy she was never supposed to hold—a naïve girl with a powerful name.

  “Nero wants a puppet,” I say quietly.

  Her eyes search mine. “He wants a cut.”

  “Damn it, Una. Here I thought you’d come to help me.”

  A soft smile touches her lips. “I will always help you, brother, but men, weapons, resources…those are Nero’s domain. They don’t come free. Not even for you. Not even for me.”

  “So, what? This is Nero’s army?”

  “Yes. He wants to take down the Bianchi mafia.”

  I frown. “I thought you said he wanted Adelina to run it.”

  She shakes her head. “We’re beyond that. Gabriella was his ally and friend. They played together as children. Eduardo was like an uncle to him. Eduardo’s death was justified. Why do you think he allowed us to take the job?”

  “Nero knew? He knew I killed Eduardo, and yet he still agreed to help Gabriella when she came to him?” This entire time, I assumed he didn’t know, that he hadn’t just deliberately put me in a compromising position with Adelina.

  “He knew. He hated it, but Eduardo broke faith on a binding agreement—”

  “Because he didn’t want his daughter marrying that animal!”

  Her eyes snap to mine, burning with a rage I rarely see unless Nero or Dante is concerned. “Don’t think that I don’t sympathize with Adelina, Sasha! I do not support these backward traditions they insist on clinging to, and you know Nero doesn’t either, but you cannot change the world in a day. Bianchi was justified in taking out Eduardo according to every mafia law, and Nero couldn’t protect him. So, he made sure the man would die quickly, efficiently, with a bullet from the best assassin money could buy.”

  “You set me up.”

  She shakes her head. “I gave you a job. You’re a soldier. You don’t need to know the reasoning behind it. How could I possibly have predicted that you of all people would fall for the daughter?”

  Dropping my head forward, I focus on the grass beneath my feet, dragging in a soothing breath. I don’t think any of us could predict how far this has gone or how wrong. “Well, I did, and I won’t allow her to be collateral damage in Nero’s latest power play.”

  “He needs her.”

  “How so? When he intends to destroy the Bianchi mafia entirely?”

  “He wants to destroy it on principle, and then the Ricci mafia will be resurrected. With his backing, the Bianchi customers will come to the Ricci side, under Adelina Ricci-Bianchi…”

  I snort. “He needs her name.”

  “We all have our part to play, Sasha. This is hers.”

  I glare at her. “No, it’s not. She is more than her family name.”

  Una tilts her head to the side in that predatory way of hers. “Does it matter if it saves her?”

  I don’t have an answer for that because truthfully, all I want is Bianchi dead and her free. If Una and Nero can get that done, then how can I oppose it? But then, freedom is subjective in this case. I want Adelina to be safe, and she never will be if she’s Nero’s body shield. I love Una and Nero like family, but right now, I hate how utterly heartless they both can be.

  “If I don’t agree to this?” I ask.

  “We already took a shipment of guns and killed his men yesterday.” She offers me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Sasha, but you and I have only ever been soldiers. Men like Nero and Enrique pull strings.”

  “So, you’re simply acting on orders?”

  She frowns. “No. That man attacked my home with my child in it. I will burn his life to the ground and kill everything and everyone he holds dear.” Thought not.

  I really have no choice here, and though our common goal may not be aligned, the steps to get there are.

  “Bianchi is mine. I want to see the look in his eyes when I kill him.”

  A tiny smile pulls at the corner of her lip, and I know she knows this bloodlust all too well. How far we’ve fallen from the stoic soldiers we once were.

  “Done. And afterward?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

  “I know you love her, Sasha, but this is business.”

  I turn away from her. “Not to me.” I walk back toward the house, and she lets me go without a word. For now, we are aligned on this, and that’s all that matters. I just need Enrique dead and Adelina safe. The rest can be dealt with.

  In the space of only two days, the former residence of Eduardo Ricci becomes a military camp of sorts. Nero sent twenty men with Una. They’re all staying here, occupying the villa. Lorenzo hasn’t really said much about it, but I know he wants to see Enrique dead as much as anyone. He’s still in a state of grief and loss, unable to move past Gabriella’s death, probably because they haven’t buried her yet. He won’t let them until Adelina can attend the funeral. I understand it, but the man needs to pull himself from the limbo that isn’t serving him or anyone else.

  I make my way through the house and into the kitchen. One of Lorenzo’s men makes food for everyone, and the smell of eggs and bacon makes my stomach rumble.

  Una catches my eye from across the room before jerking her head toward the door. I follow her out into the hall, where she props her back to the wall.