"Your father and brothers were attacked an hour ago," he says. "Professional hit. Military-style weapons, coordinated assault. They survived, but a lot of men didn't."
I shake my head violently. "You're lying. Papa's at home. He's fine. They're all fine."
"Your bodyguard, Tony, age thirty-four, found shot twice in the head in the alley behind your house." I put my hands over my ears as if that will stop his words. "Frankie, shot in the chest while manning the front gate. Another guard, killed trying to get to the weapons room."
"Stop." Tears are streaming down my face now. "Stop it. I don’t want to hear anymore."
"And three more men whose names I don't know, but who died tonight trying to protect your family." He leans closer. "While you were in there shaking your ass for pathetic college boys."
The guilt overwhelms me.
Tony is dead.
Tony, who never missed one of my recitals, who brought me chocolate when Papa was being impossible. Dead because I wanted to go dancing.
"I didn't know," I whisper.
"Course you didn't know. You were too busy being a brat." His tone hardens again. "Now for the last fucking time, get your ass in the damn car."
"No." I try to back away, but there's nowhere to go. Tommy moves to block my path, and I'm trapped between them and the SUV. "No, I want to go home. I want to see my family."
"Your family thinks you're dead or kidnapped," the stranger says. "Right now, they're probably gearing up to go to war with mine. You want to see them alive again, you get in the fucking car."
"Who are you?" The question comes out as a sob. “I don’t even know your name.”
"Name's Damon Lombardi." He says it like I should recognize it, and after a second, I do. "And right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and whoever wants your family dead."
The Lombardi family.
Papa's sworn enemies.
The family we don't talk about, don't acknowledge, pretend doesn't exist even though everyone knows they do.
"You're one of them," I say. "You're the enemy."
His laugh is harsh. "Enemy? Princess, if I was your enemy, you'd already be dead. This?" He gestures between us. "This is me saving your spoiled ass."
"I don't believe you."
"Don't care." He grabs my arm again, not gently this time. "You can get in this goddamn car willing, or I can throw you in there myself. Your choice."
I look around desperately, hoping to see someone who might help, but the street is mostly empty. A few people stumble out of the club, laughing and drunk, completely oblivious to what's happening right in front of them.
"My family will look for me," I say, trying to sound braver than I feel. "When they realize I'm gone."
"They already know you're gone," Damon interrupts. "Your bedroom window was wide open, curtains blowing in the wind. Took them about five minutes to figure out you'd snuck out."
Heat floods my cheeks. Even in the middle of this nightmare, I'm embarrassed that Papa knows about my secret escapes.
"They'll find me," I insist.
"They'll try." Damon's smile is cold. "But right now, they got bigger problems. Like figuring out who tried to wipe out their entire bloodline tonight."
He's right, and I hate that he's right.
If what he's saying is true, if my family really was attacked, if Tony is really dead, then they're not going to waste time looking for me when they're fighting for their lives.
"Why should I trust you?" I ask.
