And to ensure such peace prevails, Annamaria must remain with him for the rest of her life.
That isn’t an offer of peace. That’s a fucking battle cry.
There will be no peace.
Not until Matteo is dead.
And tonight is my one chance to not only kill the bastard but bring my sister home.
My focus is split momentarily when I hear Marcello shift on the other side of the confessional, cursing under his breath when the wood creaks under his feet. The cramped darkness feels suffocating, like the walls know what we’re planning and want to choke the sin out of us before we commit it.
Murdering someone in a church isn’t Marcello’s first rodeo, but it sure is mine. The air smells like dust, incense, and the kind of stillness that clings to the walls of old churches, and suddenly I’m transported to a time when my baby sister loved nothing more than to lead a holy life herself.
My good-hearted sister had all the qualities to become a nun, but I always believed life had something more in store for her. I just never imagined it would be this.
Needing to calm down, I inhale slowly and imagine the scent of cloves from one of my loving husband’s cigarettes, and the sound of his lighter sparking to life. That’s all I need to regain my focus. My clarity and precision.
Marcello leans closer to the divider between us. “Stay sharp.”
“I’m always sharp.” I roll my eyes, but only a little.
As the minutes tick by and no one appears, I begin to wonder if our intel was wrong.
Matteo keeps Annamaria imprisoned somewhere we haven’t been able to locate and only allows her one excursion a month to this very church, where it’s said she lights a candle for every person that is near and dear to her heart, praying that it will be enough to protect them.
But as another hour passes, and there is no sign of Anna, my heart begins to grow heavy with fear.
Please, God. Please. Help us bring Anna home.
And as if God himself heard my prayers, I spot a sudden movement through the slatted panel of the door. Two shadows stretch long across the marble aisle before their bodies come into full view.
Annamaria enters the nave first, causing my breath to catch in my throat. She somehow looks taller than the last time I saw her, her posture a little straighter. But it’s the absence of her long golden hair flowing down her back—now cut into a short bob—that feels like someone drove a stake through my heart.
Her steps echo softly as she approaches the altar, pausing to kneel to say a quick prayer before standing again to light a few candles to the side.
And that’s when my gaze locks on Matteo, hovering behind her like the fucking parasite he is.
Everything in me coils tight, blind rage surging in my chest.
Six months. Six months he’s kept her captive.
Six months we’ve searched for her with no avail.
Six months we imagined every nightmare possible.
Seeing him here…standing beside her like he has a right to breathe the same air as my sweet sister…makes my hands twitch around the handles of my blades.
“Now is our shot,” I whisper, leaning toward the narrow lattice that divides me from Marcello.
“No. Wait.”
I snap my gaze toward him, irritation sparking. “Marcello—”
“I said, wait,” he repeats, quieter this time, but no less commanding.
Even though my blood is roaring, I obey.
Because I’m his number two. Because this is what respect looks like in our world.
