“What’s wrong?”

  “Have you heard from Adelina at all?”

  “No. Why?”

  She nods, though her expression remains concerned. “I’ve had men watching the house. She was there, in the same room, but yesterday, they moved. No one saw Bianchi leave the property, but they couldn’t confirm he was there in the first place. Would he send her away alone?”

  I tap my finger over my lip. “Do they know where she’s gone?”

  “Yes. They were followed to a hotel.”

  “The Riviera?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Yes. You know it?”

  “I’ve hit it before. Killed Sergio Fonzo, Bianchi’s cousin, there.”

  “So, the security will be tighter now?”

  “Of course. She’ll be in the penthouse. Bianchi wouldn’t leave her alone for long. She’s the jewel in his crown, his claim over everything Ricci.”

  The truth is, with Gabriella gone, everything will fall to Adelina. The properties, the businesses: legitimate and otherwise. Most importantly, though, The Ricci’s own several ports farther along the north coast and a couple in the south, as well as the ships docked there. One of their legitimate businesses is freight shipping, and it isn’t difficult to smuggle drugs and weapons as long as you pay off the right people. Eduardo Ricci had the contacts in Africa to pull it off: coastguard, police, even government officials. It’s not hard to buy favors in one of the most corrupt countries in the world. Adelina is valuable to Enrique in many ways.

  Una nods slowly as though absorbing all the information and stashing it. “Okay. There’s a shipment leaving Tre Fontane tonight. Bianchi’s uncle owns three ports within twenty miles of each other. It’s where Bianchi ships most of his product to Turkey.”

  “You’re going to hit it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Adelina? You know where she is. She’s easier to get to in that hotel.”

  She lifts her chin, and I hate that look she gets in her eye, cold and calculating. “Adelina isn’t the priority right now. We don’t think he’ll kill her.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, of all people. You could kill him and get her out.”

  “No, because he will become a martyr, an excuse for whoever steps up behind him to start a war with us. This needs to be quick and efficient. We break down everything around him, then no one will care if he dies, because he’ll have no money and no one left to give a shit. We kill him, and that’s it, no one to fill the void, except Adelina Ricci. The Bianchi name won’t be worth the paper it’s written on.”

  It’s a good plan. Or at least it would be if my heart wasn’t invested in ways it shouldn’t be.

  “And what about The Elite? I thought they were an imminent problem.”

  A sly smile works over her face. “I have a plan, brother. Two birds. One stone.” She pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. In a matter of weeks, this will all be over.”

  17

  Sasha

  Two ports and an airstrip. We know a big shipment will be leaving one of them tonight, but we don’t know which. Getting information out of the Bianchi household is getting increasingly more difficult, with contacts going missing each day.

  I duck down beneath the nose of a small plane that sits parked in an open-sided hangar. Half the engine is missing, with parts strewn methodically on the ground around it. The airstrip sits in the middle of disused, scrubby land. In the distance, I can see the twinkling lights of the nearest houses.

  Moonlight cuts through the darkness, illuminating several planes in different spaces. At the fence line, a hundred yards behind me, Tommy lingers, and I can practically feel his nervousness from here.

  I creep forward, hiding in the shadows until I finally press my back against the building, a huge door with a chain and padlock. That must be where all the functional planes are. We ground them, and we halt a huge chunk of Bianchi’s operation.

  I get to work, sliding the rucksack off my back. I set the blocks of C4 and the charger, wiring it all the same way I’ve done a hundred times before. Nicholai used to make us wire bombs blindfolded before we were even teenagers.

  Once the charge is set, I move farther into the building, placing another block on the next corner, and the next until there are four charge points. I palm my gun as I step away from the building and jog back across into the open, exposed space to the fence. The silence here is eerie and unsettling. I haven’t seen a single person, though I know there is a guard on the main gate at the opposite end of the airfield. It seems too easy. Or maybe Enrique is just that arrogant.

  I sprint back to the fence line and through the undergrowth to where Tommy holds open the small hole in the chain-link fence.

  “All done?” he asks.

  I nod, and we wait. The long grasses of the scrubby land around us catch in the wind, rustling gently. I narrow my eyes when I spot the glimmering blink of a flashlight. A single guard walks right past the front of the hangar. Were he looking for it, he’d find the C4 straight away, but of course, he won’t be looking for it.

  Una texts to say that her port is set before Jackson does the same. We could just blow all three, but Una wants to wait. Her information is that Enrique’s uncle, Roberto, will be handling this shipment himself. Enrique has tightened his operation, only trusting his most loyal men. To lose a port is a blow, but to remove his circle of men, that’s possibly a harder one. Una won’t miss an opportunity to take out Roberto.

  And so, we wait. And wait.

  “Is…is Adelina okay? You know, since her sister died?” Tommy asks.

  It’s a stupid question, but I imagine how she is: grieving and alone in that place with the very man who killed Gabriella. “I don’t know,” I whisper, and I hate that I don’t know—that I can’t even be there for her.

  Tommy falls into silence for a moment. “You and Una will get him.”

  I almost smile at the naïve kind of innocence that Tommy manages to possess despite years in Nero’s inner circle. No wonder Adelina liked him so much; he’s how she used to be.

  My phone rings, Una’s name flashing across the screen. I answer it. “Yeah?”

  “The uncle showed up here. He’s dead. Blow it.” She hangs up, and I glance at Tommy.

  He already has the phone in his hand, an eager grin on his face.

  “Do it,” I say.

  His fingers fly over the manual buttons of the old-style flip phone. The first bang tears through the night, sending a ball of fire high into the air. Tommy flinches before throwing his head back on a laugh. The other three go off almost simultaneously, and I turn my head, shielding my face from the wall of heat that hits us. The darkness is now non-existent, consumed by the blazing inferno in the night sky.

  The building collapses, revealing the burning corpses of small lanes within. The hangar next door soon catches fire, and several further explosions take place as fire meets jet fuel. It’s carnage. It’s exactly what we wanted.

  “Come on.” I grab Tommy’s arm and drag him to his feet. “We don’t want to be here when that reaches the fuel store.”

  We get into the car and drive across the rough terrain until we reach a small road. The flames from the airstrip can still be seen a good few miles down the road.

  “Do you think it’ll work and he’ll retaliate?” Tommy asks, his gaze fixed on the flames that are now an orange dot in the side mirror. I don’t answer, but that doesn’t deter him. “I thought you wanted him dead. Why not just kill him now?”

  I sigh. “These things take time, planning. This time, when Enrique Bianchi dies, he will stay dead.”

  “I hope he doesn’t hurt Adelina.” He genuinely fears for her, even after she smashed him on the head with a lamp and ran away. Poor kid. He’s too soft for this life.

  I can’t imagine Tommy killing someone. I’ve often wondered why Nero keeps him around, but since meeting Adelina, I can see the reasoning more. Men like Nero and me, we’re governed by cold, ruthless decisions. We do what needs to be done. We lack humanity in our judgment. I used to think it was a weakness, but I no longer believe that to be true. In a family of cold killers, Tommy is the humanity, perceived as the weakest link, but in fact, a vital part of the equation.

  “She’s tougher than she looks.” It’s all I can say because he’s voicing my own fears, but I can’t think about it. If I do, I’ll go into that hotel and take her, killing anyone who gets in my way.

  Patience. I just have to have patience, and this will all be over for good.

  18

  Adelina

  I’m not sure which is worse, that house or this penthouse. It’s a smaller space, and Enrique’s anger is like another person in the room, occupying all the space. He hasn’t hurt me again, but I know it’s only a matter of time. I wonder if he’ll kill me the way he did Gabi, just so he can send Nero and Una my head. Not that they’ll care, but Enrique is like a spoiled child, breaking his toys because he hasn’t gotten his way.

  I lie on my side, staring out the huge windows that overlook the beach. Lights twinkle on the shoreline and out at sea from the boats bobbing on the waves. It’s so pretty, and I envy the people happily strolling along the seafront late at night. So carefree. So blissfully unaware of men like Enrique Bianchi.

  The bedroom door clicks open behind me, and I tense but remain still. There’s the rustle of clothing, a clattering of shoes being kicked to the wooden floor, and then the mattress dips. The scent of Enrique’s aftershave hits me, and I feel sick. I count the seconds in my head, waiting for him to touch me. He doesn’t, but I can’t take the not knowing. Tossing the covers back, I get out of the bed.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.

  “I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

  He laughs. “You say it as though you have a choice.”

  “I do, Enrique. I am not your whore or your slave. I will not sleep next to the disgusting creature that murdered my sister.”

  He’s out of the bed and in front of me in a heartbeat. Grabbing my throat, he slams me against the glass window with a thud. “I own you, Adelina.”

  A humorless smirk pulls at my lips. “Spoken like the cowardly, sad little man you are.”

  His lips press into a flat line, his entire body trembling.

  With his free hand, he tears at my leggings, yanking them to my knees. My heart races, bile touching the back of my tongue. I refuse to look away from him, though, staring him right in the eye. A manic grin is on his face as he yanks me away from the window and tosses me onto the bed. His weight falls on top of me, oppressive and repulsive.

  “I own you!” he shouts as he forces himself inside me.

  I flinch, my teeth grinding over each other at the violation. Still, I don’t look away. “Does it make you feel powerful when you force your vile little dick inside me?” I snarl. “Did it make you feel like a man killing a defenseless girl while she was tied to a chair?" I bring my face closer to his. “You’re fucking pathetic.” I spit in his face.

  His teeth mash together, rage filling his features, shaking his frame.

  “What are you going to do, Enrique? Kill me, too?" I delight in his lack of control—almost instantly, his dick shrinks, and my head falls back on a laugh.

  He shoves away from me. Every muscle in his body is rigid, his frame puffed up as he pulls his boxers up. He jabs a finger toward me. “You are lucky I need you. For now.” That’s what he thinks.

  I push to my feet, pull up my leggings, and move around him.

  He grabs my arm, halting me. “You are my wife, Adelina.”

  I snatch my wrist away. “I married you to kill you, remember? We are man and wife on paper alone. I would never willingly share myself with a creature like you.” I leave the room, and luckily, he makes no effort to follow.

  I should probably be upset. He technically just raped me for the second time, but I’m not, because I don’t feel degraded. I feel powerful. Untouchable. I’m a woman with nothing left to lose, and he knows it. Enrique becomes increasingly weak in my eyes, and I fear him less with each passing day. Sasha will end him; I know it.

  I descend the stairs and open the door to the second bedroom. The TV is on inside, showing a football game. Two of Enrique’s men are sitting on the end of the bed, beers clutched in hand as they remain transfixed on the screen.

  “Out!” I snap.

  They both look at me, one of them sneering as his eyes flick over my body.

  “Now!” I growl.

  One moves, then the other. I can see they’re torn between seeing me as Mrs. Bianchi and treating me the way Enrique does—a prisoner with no rights. They leave, and I slam the door behind them, locking it. If Enrique leaves me alone, then so will they. That’s all I need, just to lock myself away until Sasha makes his move. He got to scarface here. Surely, he can do it again? I have to hold out hope.

  The barrage on Enrique’s business continues, day after day, night after night. I can sense the fear amongst his men, hear the whispers that The Kiss of Death is coming for them. He tries to keep me away from any business dealings, but he’s also stopped leaving me alone as though he doesn’t trust his own men. Perhaps he thinks they’ll defect under pressure, hand me over to save themselves. After all, I killed Sasha Ivanov. It’s me the Kiss of Death wants. But I’m Enrique’s bargaining chip out of this. So, he takes me to various meetings but mostly makes me wait in the car.

  Today, I’m sitting at a table in an empty restaurant, one of his men across from me, the young one who made me shower. Enrique and another guy sit a couple of tables away, but I can hear their conversation. The man is dressed in an expensive-looking navy suit, his graying hair and short beard perfectly groomed. I can almost immediately tell he’s not mafia. He lacks that edge that men like Enrique, Nero, and my father possess so easily, something that tells the world they are dangerous.

  “This is drawing too much attention, Enrique,” the man hisses. “I can’t be seen to be involved in this.”

  “Then do something about it. The Russian is here! What am I paying you for?” I would guess a governor or chief of police, maybe.

  “You know as well as I do how impossible that would be. Even if I were willing to risk my men, she doesn’t exist. I can’t very well arrest her.”

  I can’t help but smile at the idea of a mere human even trying to get close enough to Una to put cuffs on her. I’ve seen her train with Sasha. He’s lethal, but she is something else. I understand why she has her reputation—death itself.

  “This is a blip. The first sign of danger and you run? Really?” Enrique presses on.

  “A blip? They have very publicly destroyed two ports and an airfield, killed, what…ten of your men? Several of your cousins, two uncles…” The man tuts under his breath. “This is not a blip; it’s a war. I can’t sit back and do nothing while the streets run with blood. My integrity will be called into question. Want my support? Then put an end to this.” A chair screeches over the floor before the man walks right past our table. He politely dips his head at me and leaves the restaurant.

  The man across from me stands, tapping his finger on the table, which I assume means I should get up. His gaze remains fixed behind me, and he looks nervous. Enrique storms past us, and I’m guided toward the door after him. Outside, the street is moderately busy, with people starting to emerge for the evening. Couples walk hand in hand, and families laugh as they pitter along the cobbled streets.

  The man clears his throat and holds the back door of the car open for me. On a sigh, I climb in beside Enrique. I expect his anger, but his silence might be worse. He says nothing as we make our way back to the hotel. Una and Nero are clearly piling on the pressure, but to what avail. Do they simply wish to tear apart everything he’s built while he watches? That could take time. Surely, Sasha would not wait so long.

  I honestly can’t say what Enrique will do next, but Una and Nero may just regret backing this particular rat into a corner. He’s rabid, and he bites.

  As soon as we step inside the penthouse, Enrique ushers me toward the bedroom. I instantly tense, unsure of what comes next. He hurries to the closet and throws a dress bag on the bed.

  “Put that on,” he orders.

  “What? Why?”

  “Don’t ask questions, Adelina.”

  I peer around the corner of the closet, watching as he strips out of his jacket, then tie, then shirt.

  Grabbing the bag, I hurry to the door and escape. Once inside the spare room, I lock the door and toss the bag onto the bed before unzipping it. Inside is an emerald-green satin dress. It wouldn’t be the first time Enrique has dressed me up like a doll and paraded me around. I can’t say I’m not sick of it, though. Just keep playing his games, I tell myself.

  Stripping out of the sundress and cardigan I’m wearing, I step into the satin gown and shimmy it up my hips. The material is snug, clinging to every line and curve of my body like a second skin. It’s strapless, and the material stops at my knee. Turning around, I glance in the mirror, angling my head to the side as I study my reflection.

  My jaw is still bruised, and bags linger beneath my eyes, ingrained by what feels like years of grief, but, in reality, is just years’ worth rammed into a few short months. I used to miss the innocent eyes of the girl I once was staring back at me. Now I don’t. She wasn’t strong enough for this. Now when I meet my own gaze in the mirror, I see just how splintered I look. I am fractured and reformed, a mess of pieces haphazardly stuck back together. I don’t work like I used to. I’m definitely not as shiny or pretty, but I’m here, I’m functional. Just.

  Grabbing my hair, I twist it up and pin it. I’m long past caring if I look good these days. I’ve never been one to wear makeup, and I refuse to cover Enrique’s handiwork. Wherever we’re going, let them see him for what he is.

  On a sigh, I square my shoulders and tug open the door. In the lobby, Enrique waits, dressed in a tuxedo. He almost looks handsome. Or he would be if he wasn’t so repulsive. He thrusts a pair of shoes at me—strappy, silver, and extremely uncomfortable looking. I take them from him, and he holds out his other hand, producing a silver chain. I glance at it, scowling at the elegant B pendant. Bianchi. Classy. He can’t stamp it on my forehead, so he’s literally putting his name around my neck.