Julian lowers his voice as I raise my gun. “Wait until the fellas make their move,” he whispers.
They’ve gone all out and hired a presenter for this occasion, as if this is completely acceptable and not the most twisted and evil thing they could possibly do.
The presenter wears all white and walks into the middle of the stage, wearing a top hat, tapping a cane on the floor. “Esteemedgentlemen, this evening we have something special in store for you. Untouched flowers…”
My finger hovers over the trigger.
“Unclaimed gems.”
Sickness tightens my gut.
The plan is to wait until the rest of the men start shooting outside, drawing the guards out there so that we can make our move on the Don. But it’s getting too damn difficult.
Julian puts his hand on my arm. Whispers viciously, “If we fuck this up, these girls become the property of these perverts.”
But even that doesn’t make me take my finger off the trigger.
Julian must be able to tell this. He growls quietly, “Think of this, then. If we mess this up, you’ll never see Celine again.”
I take my finger off the trigger, thinking of her in the safe room. Probably shivering with fear. Not knowing if her brother and I are going to return to her.
“Without further ado,” the presenter says with a flourish. “Let’s get started. Our first offering is a Latvian beauty who absolutelylovesher work. In fact, gents, she doesn’t see it as work. Her passion comes through in every blo?—”
Gunfire cracks outside the theater. A man bellows so loudly that it punctuates the quiet space.
Don Salvatore leaps to his feet, waves his meaty hand. He’s in his fifties, unfit, thinking that his position and his ancestors give him power. That he has the right to do any damn thing he wants.
“Stop that! Now!”
I take aim, wait, breathe steadily. Julian pads quietly along the balcony, and the other men spread out, aiming at the different ranking members of this so-called Family.
As I wait for the guards to run out of the room, I reflect that this was never a family. It was power. It was manipulation. An excuse for this bastard to do anything he wanted.
It was old men preying on boys like me. Boys who’ve lost their real families, looking for a place to call home.
Finally, when the guards have filed out, I pull the trigger. Salvatore moves at the last moment. The bullet catches him in the neck, and he drops to the ground, hidden behind the barrier separating him from the stage.
With gunfire cracking all around me, I sprint for the stage rope. Leap off the balcony and slide down it, my leather gloves burning as I slide down and then slam onto the stage.
I leap over the barrier swiftly. A bullet hits me in the back, pounding into my Kevlar vest. I grunt and fall forward. Turn to correct that mistake. But one of our men has already handled it, blood pouring from the shooter’s face. He slumps onto the floor like a sack of shit.
I ignore the pain pulsing in my spine. Let it join the rest of the pain. Add it to the goddamn ticket.
Leaping over the barrier, I find Salvatore on his back, blood spurting from his neck. He’s got a gun in his hand. He makes a pathetic whining noise when I crush his wrist under my boot.
All around us, men are fighting, screaming, shooting. But I don’t hear them. It’s like we get a small pocket of calm from inside the storm.
He smiles ruefully, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Always—thought—it’d—be—you…”
I kneel and wrap my hand around his throat. This is the same hand that can gently cradle Celine. That can hold her as she pulls herself against me, sheltering her from the winter cold. This is the same hand that can love.
He whines as I crush his bullet wound.
“You should’ve finished the job, Salvatore,” I say.
The shooting around us has stopped. I hear Julian’s voice like it’s coming from far away.“Find the girls! Now!”
“Buh-Beast,” he grunts.
