“Ah, Enrique Bianchi,” a man drawls in heavily accented English. “Do you know who I am?”

  “I didn’t steal from you!” Bianchi almost screams, his grip on me tightening.

  The man laughs, the sound sinister yet melodic. “Are my weapons not in your possession, Mr. Bianchi?”

  “I thought those guns were Nero Verdi’s. I have no fight with you, Ronan.”

  “It’s Mr. Cole!” the man snaps.

  I think Enrique may have finally met someone less mentally stable than him.

  “And I care not for your motivations. Only that you took something of mine.” He sighs as though he’s bored with this conversation. “It has been a long time since anyone dared to challenge me. Do you know what I did to the last man who tried?”

  His soldiers stare us down as though daring us to actually answer.

  “I cut off his head and mounted him on my wall, right next to a prize boar I once shot. Magnificent beast.”

  “Mr. Cole, I have worked with your organization before, hired your Elite…”

  “Enough chitchat. Tatiana, please ensure Mr. Bianchi is treated accordingly.”

  “Yes, sir,” the woman says, and she sounds so robotic, it sends a shiver down my spine.

  By now, I can see the shadows of more men out in the hallway beyond the door. They’re still like statues ready to wake. It’s unsettling, inhuman, and suddenly, I can see exactly why Sasha is the way he is. I can also see how far he’s come, and it makes me love him all the more.

  I sense Enrique’s panic, like a cornered animal. I’m not sure what he’ll do next.

  The Russian woman puts the phone away and places both hands back on her weapon, pointing it at me. Enrique uses me as a body shield, and I know I’m about to die. Whatever he took, whoever that man on the phone was, he isn’t going to care about me. I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. At least I’ll be with Gabi and Daddy.

  One second, I’m welcoming my own death, and the next, I’m falling. I open my eyes to see the balcony railing above me, getting farther away. He jumped and took me with him. When I land, it’s like every bone in my body implodes at once. My lungs collapse, and I gasp for air that simply isn’t there. I roll off Enrique onto my hands and knees, trying to breathe. My eyes water, my body screams in protest, and after what feels like forever, I finally manage to suck in a single breath. It’s not enough, though. Several sets of boots fall into my eye-line, but I’m paralyzed, unable to run away. My heart hammers against my ribs, panic over-riding everything. They’re going to kill me. I turn and look at Enrique. He’s writhing around on the ground, choked, staggered breaths slipping past his lips.

  A hand wraps around his throat and wrenches him off the ground. I’m also tugged to my feet, still struggling to breathe or stand upright.

  Two soldiers move in front of me, their huge bodies like a wall. I peek through a tiny gap and watch Tatianna walk up to Enrique’s shaking, gasping form. There’s a loud crack, followed by the most bloodcurdling scream. Enrique falls to his knees, and I slam my hand over my mouth when I spot his thigh bone protruding through his leg.

  She stands behind him like an angel of death, long, ebony hair contrasting against snow-white skin. There’s no trace of emotion in her eyes as she wrenches his shoulder out of the socket. He screams, and I smile because I want him to suffer. I want him to beg and plead for her to stop, like the little bitch he is.

  Gabriella was strong and dignified, even when she knew the end was coming. He won’t be. She dislocates the other shoulder until his arms hang limp, his screams blending with his choked, strangled breaths. When she draws a knife from the holster at her thigh, I find myself baying for his blood, hoping his death is slow and agonizing. I could never have imagined what happens next.

  The man from earlier steps forward, grabbing Enrique’s face and forcing his head back. When she brings the blade to his eye, I force myself to stand and watch the horror show in front of me. He screams, one long, drawn-out cry of agony as she gouges first one eye, then the other from his head.

  My stomach rolls, and hot acid burns its way up my throat. I finally have to look away, though his spine-chilling screams are branded on my mind. I rush away from the scene, scrambling for the house and shelter from that horrific sound. Another Elite escorts me down the corridor. I hate Enrique more than anyone, but I think the sound of his screams will stay with me forever. The image of those two, plucking out his eyes as though they were simply pitting a fruit—it’s ingrained in my mind. I picture Una and Sasha standing in their place, and I wonder if they were ever so cruel. Una is hard and terrifying, but compared to them, she’s positively charming.

  Outside the house, it’s like a military operation. Several more Elite stand guard rigidly, and blacked-out SUVs line the driveway. I’m put in the back of one, the door slammed behind me. It’s only once I’m inside that I wonder what happens to me now. Where will they take me? I’m a Bianchi, after all.

  Glancing down, I slip the wedding band and engagement rings from my finger, putting them into the pocket of my jeans. I don’t want them to know I’m married to him. Then again, if he isn’t dead yet, then I’m sure he soon will be. I wonder if Mr. Cole will mount his head right next to the first man who wronged him. Either way, I’ll soon be a widow, free of Enrique.

  Even if these Elite kill me now, I did what I set out to do. I may not have gotten to kill him myself, but…this is enough. This is justice for my father, for my sister. I can die happily. My only regret is Sasha. For him to have come so far, to have learned to love…something I would never think any of these soldiers here capable of…and to lose it; there’s something inherently tragic in that.

  After all we’ve been through together: the loss, the heartache, the deceit… For this to all end here just seems so pointless. I wonder if he’ll slip back into one of these soulless robots. Or maybe he’ll find someone else to love, someone who needs a monster dressed as a knight. The thought has a lump forming in my throat and irrational anger tearing over my skin. No. He’s mine, and only mine.

  As if on a silent cue, all the car doors open, and I’m suddenly surrounded by soldiers. The car starts moving, and none of them speak to me. Tatianna sits in the passenger seat, wiping blood from her hands. I wanted Enrique to suffer, but when it came to it, I couldn’t watch. Maybe that makes me weak.

  We drive for well over an hour before we reach the port once again. Instead of going to the water’s edge, we pull onto a narrow side street shrouded in darkness. Cars are parked on both sides, and the convoy stops in the middle of the street before the engines cut out.

  When I’m escorted from the car, I fully expect to be forced to my knees and have a gun put to my head. We stand for a moment in complete silence. A seagull caws on the wind, and a boat horn blares in the distance.

  The door of a parked car ahead of us swing open, and two figures slip into the darkness like shadows.

  They approach, and though their hoods are pulled up, I know the first one is Una. She’s tiny but oozes confidence and power with every step, every swing of her hips. The other figure lingers a step behind her, his steps more cautious, his body tense. I don’t recognize him, but I know it’s not Sasha.

  They stop, a few feet away, and Una pushes back her hood. Her fingers wrap around the hilt of the knife at her thigh, poised, ready. The tension in the air is so thick, I’m practically choking on it.

  Tatianna steps around me.

  “My boss would like to speak with you,” she says it to Una, but turns to me, holding out a phone.

  I stare at the device before carefully taking it from her hand and placing it to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Adelina Ricci-Bianchi.”

  “Yes?”

  “I have saved your life. You now owe me a debt.”

  Someone moves behind me, and two soldiers step out between Una and me. They dump something on the ground. A body wrapped in a sheet. One of them tugs back the sheet revealing the face. Oh my god. Vomit hits the back of my throat, and I want to look away. More than anything, I want to look away, but I can’t. Bloody craters are where his eyes once sat, and something has been carved into his head in Russian letters.

  “You will dispose of Enrique Bianchi’s body, somewhere…obvious. Somewhere that my message will be heard.”

  “Okay,” I barely whisper.

  “You are now the leader of the Bianchi-Ricci mafia. What’s left of it at least. You will control almost all the illegal activity in Sicily, and you will give me access to all your resources, shipping routes, blah, blah, you get my drift.”

  I look around at the Elite surrounding me. I have little choice. I meet Una’s hard gaze, though she gives away nothing. “If I agree, your soldiers won’t harm Una or Sasha Ivanov?”

  He laughs. “Making deals already? No need, Nero Verdi already bartered their safety, for now at least. Do we have an agreement?”

  I have absolutely no idea what I’m getting involved with, but at this point, I’m grateful to this stranger. And Nero made a deal with him, which means he must have predicted this outcome.

  “We have an agreement.”

  “Good. And Ms. Ricci, you should know, I’m not a man to trifle with.” That really didn’t need saying. The Elite and Enrique’s missing eyes said it for him. A man with an army this lethal is not a man to cross, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of that.

  The phone cuts off, and I hand it back to Tatianna. She nods, and her soldiers all retreat as one. I walk toward Una, my shoulders tight the entire time as I fight the urge to look behind me. She grabs my wrist the moment I reach her, wrenching me behind her. I willingly oblige, and when I glance at the man next to me, I realize it’s Tommy. He’s the last person I expected to see here, facing off against the Elite. He doesn’t look at me, but takes my hand, clasping it tightly.

  I don’t take a full breath until The Elite finally all get in their cars and reverse. The street is once again left in darkness. Tommy instantly pulls me into a tight hug. I wince against his hold. As the danger passes and adrenaline wanes, my body hurts all over.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, emerald green eyes searching my face.

  “No. Enrique pulled me out of a first-floor balcony with him.” I glance at the dead body just as Una tugs the sheet back over his mess of a face.

  “As lovely as this little reunion is, there’s a dead body in the street.” She picks up the legs. “Little help, Tommy?”

  They put the body into the trunk of the car, and I climb into the back seat.

  “Let’s go home,” Una says as she starts the engine.

  Home. I’m not really sure where or what that is anymore. It feels like I’ve spent so long running and fighting, grieving and raging… I haven’t stopped and thought about the future. I didn’t know if I would ever even get to this point.

  I just…don’t know what the future holds for me. I have to figure it out.

  21

  Sasha

  I pace the length of Nero’s office, glancing at his phone every few seconds.

  It vibrates, and I stare at him as he reads a message on the screen. “Una has Adelina. They’re both safe.” The relief is clear in his voice.

  The idea that Una would go alone to face several Elite soldiers and retrieve Adelina…well, it didn’t sit well with Nero or me. Despite Ronan’s words of reassurance, I do not trust the Elite. Especially where Una is concerned. She’s like a thorn in their side, an offense to everything they stand for.

  The phone rings, and he answers, putting it on speaker. We’ve been waiting for this. It was too simple. Ronan Cole didn’t get his reputation by making simple, cut and dry deals.

  “Nero,” Ronan drawls, in that distinctive melodic voice. It’s like he’s amused.

  “Ronan. Thank you for bringing Adelina to us.”

  “Yes, well, the Ricci girl is quite the pawn now, is she not.”

  I bristle, and Nero holds up his hand. Of course, he’s not offended by the notion. He’s used her the same way.

  “I have something that may interest you. I found your weapons,” Nero says, an olive branch if you will.

  “Oh, how convenient,” Ronan laughs.

  “It actually took considerable resources to track down the storage facility that Bianchi’s men had taken them to.”

  “Please, Nero.” Ronan tuts. “I know you were involved in this.”

  Nero’s eyes meet mine, and I shake my head at him. He needs to tread carefully while also not directly lying. “I did not make Bianchi rob you, Mr. Cole.”

  “No, that is true. I believe he thought he was stealing from you. However, a man stupid enough to blindly rob me without asking questions…” He sighs. “Well, I cannot tolerate such a lack of intelligence. Inferior men deserve death.” There’s a pause. “What I want to know is why you would set him up? Tell me, and I may forgive the trouble you’ve caused me.”

  Nero’s eyes meet mine once more, and again, I shake my head. “Bianchi attacked me, here, in New York, in my own home. In fact, he hired your Elite to do it.”

  “A man scorned, that’s your story?” He huffs a laugh. “How disappointing. You see, I know everything, Mr. Verdi. I always do.”

  “So why are you calling? What do you want? A cut of Sicily?”

  He scoffs. “Please, I’ve already negotiated that with Ms. Ricci.”

  “What do you want?” Nero repeats, his voice more stern. He’s losing patience.

  Ronan laughs, clearly delighted that he’s getting under Nero’s skin. “A cut.”

  “I just—”

  “Of New York.”

  Silence. New York is everything, the source of Nero’s power, the throne he fought so hard for. He’ll never give it up.

  “Fine, but I need a favor.”

  Ronan lets out a sharp hiss. “That’s the second favor you have asked of me, Nero Verdi.”

  “I want the Elite to stop coming after us.”

  “Ah, but you started a war with an army. There are consequences for that.”

  Nero growls. “What will it take for peace with them?” There’s an edge of desperation to his voice, and if I can hear it, then so can Cole.

  “Them? I own them. I am the Russian Bratva in its entirety. They don’t shit unless I say so. It is not them you need to make a bargain with.”

  “Fine, what will it take for peace with you?”

  “The issue is a complicated one. You see, Una Ivanov has become a symbol, the leader of a rebellion if you will. Since her, we’ve had had to…destroy, several promising soldiers. I have had to implement a cut-off age of twenty-five. All those years of training for only a few years of use.” He sighs. “Such a shame.” They’re killing Elite at the age of twenty-five; I understood logic and lack of emotion in most things, but this…this is barbaric.

  “People are unpredictable, Mr. Cole. You can train a child, but they will always become an adult, and no matter how hard you try, they will think and feel.”

  There’s a long pause before Cole speaks again. “What do you think soldiers of Una and Sasha Ivanov’s caliber are worth?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Nicholai grew too attached to them, made it personal. Had they not put him down, I would have done it myself. I am a man of numbers, you see. To train a soldier from so young and to then lose them…it is a disappointment.”

  “How much?” Nero asks, his tone clipped.

  “Twenty million. Each.”

  I open my mouth to speak.

  “Done,” Nero says without hesitation.

  Twenty million. It’s strange to have a value placed on my life. And Nero just agreed to pay it. I’m in shock.

  Ronan laughs. “I should have asked for more, no?”

  “I wish to strike a fair deal with you and to maintain our good relations.”

  “Very well, Nero Verdi. You may buy your rebel, but I will still take that cut of your city. Twenty percent sounds fair.”

  “Five,” Nero growls.

  Ronan laughs. “Come now. Fifteen.”

  “Ten.”

  Ronan lets out a childish laugh. “Ah, I’m feeling generous. Ten.”

  It’s written all over Nero’s face how much this hurts him. “Very well,” Nero finally says, his lips pressing into a flat line.

  “I’ll be in touch.” Ronan hangs up, and for long moments, I simply stare at Nero.

  “Twenty million?” I say quietly.

  He drags a hand through his hair. “I’d pay far more than that.”

  “For Una, of course…”

  He pushes to his feet and rounds the desk, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Sasha, without you, I wouldn’t have Una or my son. I owe you a debt that cannot be repaid.”

  I don’t know what to say. “Thank you.” It’s all I have.

  22

  Adelina

  I’ve been home for one day, and though my body feels frail, my mind is in overdrive. Every time I close my eyes, I see Enrique’s face, his eyes carved out. I had no love for the man, but the image is so gruesome, I can’t shake it. I can’t sleep, can’t think. I sit at my father’s desk, a glass of whiskey in my hand. The night gives way to the first rays of dawn and finally morning. The sunshine is so bright, I almost hate it for seeming so…cheerful.

  Una and Tommy left for New York almost immediately yesterday. I haven’t heard from Sasha. I thought… I thought he would be waiting for me. Maybe that’s foolish. We never really discussed it. Enrique’s death was the only thing we both agreed upon. So much has passed between us that maybe he thinks I don’t need him now. But I do. I really do.

  There’s a knock on the office door before Lorenzo pops his head in. “Miss Adelina, there’s someone here to see you.”

  I leave the office, composing myself as I make my way toward the newly rebuilt front door. Halfway down the hall, I pause. There, at the entrance, is Sasha. Sunlight spills through the glass door, catching on golden-blond hair. He looks…angelic. As soon as he spots me, he falls forward a step, and I rush to him, throwing myself into his arms.