A trap.
Sal’s eyes drop to my stomach, and something dark flickers there. Jealousy? Possession? I can’t tell anymore. Once, I worried that sleeping with Sal would result in a pregnancy, and I knew that he’d insist I “take care of it.” How far I’ve come, with a man now who would do anything to protect me.
If only he knew where I was.
If only I’d asked Konstantin for a ride or let him know I was heading here.
Sal reaches inside his jacket and pulls out something shiny.
A switchblade.
My breath catches.
“Sal, don’t?—”
“Don’t what? Don’t ask questions? Don’t point out how you sold me out to the Russians after I made you? After I paid for your Nana’s care? After I?—”
“You tried to kill me,” I snap.
“Because youowedme,” he snarls. “And I told you there was a price for crossing me.” His eyes gleam. “But you know the best part of this little homecoming?”
He pulls something from his back pocket. A piece of paper. Crumpled. It lands at my feet.
I stare at it, not moving.
“Your debt’s paid,” he says. “Every damn cent. One of Konstantin’s dogs wired it directly to my people.”
The balance is zero.
That anonymous text I got a few days ago, when Konstantin paid off my debt.
“You’re free,” he says mockingly. “From me. From all of it. Except one thing.”
I look up, wide-eyed.
“You still fucked me over, Audrey. They know I was in the Petrovia files, andIknow you had something to do with them finding out. You made me look weak. You think the Italians are gonna let that slide?”
My voice cracks. “I thought… you were trying to take Giuseppe’s place.”
One of the thugs laughs low. Sal looks like I slapped him. Then anger washes over his face.
“Who thefucktold you that?” He strides forward, grabs my chin, his fingers bruising my jaw as he puts pressure on. “Shut your God damn mouth.”
So, it’s true. And he doesn’t want his bosses to know.
“That doesn’t happen,” he hisses, stepping closer, “unless I prove I’ve got balls. Unless I prove I can gut a traitor where she stands.”
The flat of the knife presses against the gentle swell of my belly.
“I’ll make it clean,” he whispers. “You’ll pay your debt. First I’ll cut this bastard out of you. Then, when you watch it suffocate, I’ll let you bleed to death.”
My whole body locks.
I can’t breathe. Can’t move.
“Sal—please,” I plead, barely able to get the words out.
“You’re going to take us to your Russian lover’s fancy house. You’re going to open the doors, let us in, and then you’ll watch him die. You owe me that much.”
