Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
It’s what I’ve grown used to in this mafia world.
Men taking what they want, regardless of who gets hurt.
And if you get in their way … you die.
Years ago
* * *
Gunshots ricochet against the walls of our home. My father is out there. I can hear his voice as he yells orders at the men who work for us.
Men I’m supposed to trust with my life as I sit here in the closet with my mother and my sister, waiting for this fight to blow over.
Waiting for my father to win.
There is nothing but bloodshed out there.
Nothing but dead bodies and men who want to steal us to settle a debt.
My father can handle them, right?
This isn’t the first time they’ve come for us. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.
But my mother’s strong grip on my shoulder tells me enough. Even she is scared.
“Vera! Stay put!” my father yells, the sound of his voice making us all jolt up.
He’s still alive.
But his voice cracks as though he’s in pain.
Shit. I have to help him.
Without thinking, I push past my mother and throw open the closet door. “Jill, no!” my mother’s shrill voice begs, but I still run for the door.
When I open it, there’s a man’s back right in front of me.
He’s looking right at me over his shoulder.
It’s not my father, and the vicious smile on his face makes all the blood drain from my face.
I shriek as he spins around to grasp me.
BANG!
I close my eyes.
Blood sprays on my face.
FLOP!
It’s the sound of a body dropping to the floor.
I’m too scared to open my eyes.
“Jill.” My father’s voice forces me to look.
The man lies facedown on the floor in our hallway, our home.
And my father’s gun smokes from the trail left behind of this murder.
“Get back inside, and don’t come out until I say so,” my father barks at me, and he grabs the handle and shuts the door.
Now I understand what he meant when he said it was important that we moved away to another country.
He wants to keep us safe.
But I know it’s not the men out there who are a danger to our lives.
It’s this mobster family.
Nowhere is safe.
Present
* * *
I blink a couple of times to remind myself I’m awake as the gun is lowered. The light turns softer until I finally see the one face that instantly makes me cry.
“Luca …” I mutter as a tear runs down my cheek.
One of the men on the ground groans, so Luca swiftly walks up to him, fishing a knife from his pocket. The same knife from all those years ago. The one he’s carried with him for so many years to torment whoever he wanted, including me.
He grabs the man’s head by the hair and rams it into his throat.
I flinch and crawl away, covering my mouth with my hand to stop the bile from rising.
One final groan and the guy is gone for good.
Luca swiftly pulls out his knife and wipes it on a napkin before chucking that on top of the body. He walks toward me in such a calm and collected manner it momentarily makes me forget I’m surrounded by dead bodies.
Then he homes in on me.
The dark, violent look on his face reminds me of my father when he first killed someone in front of me. But that was to save his family and to destroy enemies.
This?
This savagery was only meant to save me from my own mistake.
A bloody show of power by a cruel knight in not-so-shining armor.
So then why is my heart all fluttery?
And without even so much as looking at them, Luca goes to his knees in front of me, and asks, “Are you okay?”
Chapter 22
Jill
* * *
I nod, but I don’t even know what to say. Luca looks at me with such intensity in his eyes, as though nothing else matters but him and me. Not the fact that I ran, not these dead bodies scattered around us, or the pool of blood I’m resting in. Nothing.
He brings his hand up to my cheek and wipes away the tear rolling down in such a gentle way that I almost forget he shot five people point-blank.
“Don’t cry, bunny … I’m here,” he says, and he holds out a hand. His hair is still dripping wet from the shower. “C’mon.”
I grab his hand, and he helps me up from the concrete floor. But the blood is still caked in my dress and my hair, and the mere sight of it makes me want to jump into the water across the road.
“It won’t come off,” I say in a frenzied attempt to wipe it away.
“We’ll get you cleaned up at home,” Luca replies, tucking his gun back into its holster. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He grabs my shoulders and makes me look at him, which makes me hyperaware of the fact that I ran away from him.