Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Above all, I have to get Kacia back.
How am I supposed to do all that at once? When getting my wife back means breaking all my vows? When it means turning my back on my Don and my Famiglia? The thought makes my stomach sick, but the alternative is worse.
Leave her out in Russian hands.
And then there’s Giacomo. Tony’s right, the Russians either killed him already or will kill him soon. If the bastards did that to me, I’d want my brothers to go out and get revenge on the fucking pricks, and I know Giacomo would feel the same.
How can I call myself a good leader if I sit at this bar and do nothing?
If I can’t even save my wife?
I shot Fio for Kacia. I risked my life to bring her home with me. I nearly lost everything, and now I’m sitting here thinking about giving it all up again, and I don’t even know if she wants me to show up.
“What’s the play, Luca?” Tony presses. “I know it ain’t just sitting in this fucking bar, drinking. What’s the play?”
I close my eyes.
Can I be a good soldier and still save my wife? Can I live with myself if I turn traitor and disobey my father and my Don?
If Tony dies, if Niccolo dies, would it have been worth it?
I’m torn in half. I’m ripped to pieces and bleeding.
But beneath it all there’s Kacia. There are Fio and Giacomo.
The men I fought with and the men I’d die for.
The woman I love.
“We leave tonight.”
Tony grins. “Yeah? How?”
“Taking the plane.”
“Your father’s gonna notice.”
“I’m not hiding this from him. By the time we’re in the air, it’ll be too late. Don Valverde can do a lot of things, but he can’t scramble fighter jets.”
Tony laughs, eyes sparkling. “What should I tell Niccolo?”
“Tell him we’re getting revenge for Giacomo and we’re bringing my wife home. Tell him to gear up.”
“You got it, boss.” Tony stands and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“Yeah? Then why’s it feel so fucking wrong?”
He leaves me alone at the bar, a traitor and a liar, but a husband, a good fucking husband, and a leader to my crew.
Chapter 23
Kacia
My flight lands early the next morning. It’s still dark out when I leave the terminal, a single bag wheeling along behind me. A tall, pale man in a black suit meets me out front and carries my things to a dark sedan. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t tell me where we’re going, only opens the back door to the car, gestures for me to get in, and drives into the early morning quiet.
Coming back home to LA is bittersweet. I love this town, even though the traffic sucks and we’re moving at a crawl. I try to savor the moment by staring out the window and pretending like this is normal, like that driver isn’t some Russian soldier taking me to my death, like I’m not leaving behind the beginning of something good and heading out on a suicide mission.
I can pretend, for a second, that this is normal.
But that doesn’t last.
Even if this is terrifying, at least I’m doing something good for once.
I’m coming home to save Adrienne.
Even if it feels terrifying, this is the right thing.
I only hope Luca can forgive himself one day. I keep thinking about the look on his face as I left that office and the pained, animalistic shout of rage as I hurried away through that house, the capos all staring at me, their hate so thick it felt palpable in the air. Luca didn’t come after me, didn’t follow me back to his place, didn’t try to stop me as I packed and hurried to the airport. I used cash to buy a ticket and boarded the plane looking over my shoulder like he’d show up any second and carry me back to the Valverde mansion, like he might change his mind and decide locking me in the basement as preferable to letting me go.
Some stupid, sick part of me wanted that to happen so badly it was like a bug in my stomach.
He never showed. I understand why. His father explicitly ordered him not to, and no matter what, Luca is his father’s son.
Now, in the back of the car, I can only imagine how conflicted he feels. Loyalty to the Famiglia trumps everything, even though we only ever came together because he decided to go against orders. It was that first mistake, that first betrayal that led to everything afterward, and I don’t know if he can go down that path again.
Which means I’m on my own.
The driver takes us from LAX onto the 110, skirting around Westlake, Echo Park, Koreatown, and through East Hollywood until we reach the Hollywood Hills. The sedan winds its way along the narrow roads, past multi-million-dollar houses, past the rich and the famous, until we pull down a quiet street with a massive white complex behind a large gated driveway. There’s nobody else and nothing in sight as the driver parks in front of the palatial front door.