“If that’s who I have to be to stop men like you from taking over, then that’s what I’ll be,” I snarl.
“We could’ve—made—millions,” he groans. “Why wouldn’t you just die?”
Maybe fate had something different in store for me. Perhaps the universe knew I’d find a woman who would heal me, not just physically. Maybe fate knew there was a beauty waiting for this Beast.
“Any last words, Salvatore?”
His eyes widen as if he’s finally realized this is really the end.
“Wuh-wait. I’ve got cash. Millions. I can give it to yo?—”
I shot him in the face.
When I stand, I’m covered in blood. The presenter’s white uniform is stained in thick red as he lies motionless on the stage.All around me, men lie dead and dying. Mario finishes a man off with a bullet to the head, and then looks up at me.
“You did it, Beast,” he says.
I leap over the stage, holstering my gun, following Julian’s voice. He stands at the top of a set of stairs as girls rush past, heading for the exit. I watch them, their faces pockmarked with terror, clutching their ragged clothes to their too-thin bodies.
I watch them, and a tear pricks my eye.
I wipe it away, blood smearing my face like war paint.
Taking out my cellphone, I call Agent Keane. It takes a lot of discipline to do this when there’s only one person I want to call right now.
My Snowflake.
“Damian,” Thomas says, answering.
“Got twenty-some girls who need your help and a bloodbath that needs cleaning up. Salvatore Luciani is dead. His consigliere is dead. It’s a cemetery here.”
A pause, then he says, “Give me the address.”
CHAPTER 32
CELINE
Isit on the bed, knees to my chest, trying not to devolve into panic. My mind is an evil slideshow of all the things that could be happening to my brother and my man.
My man.
The phrase fits snugly into my mind, sparkling there like it belongs, like the very idea of itnotbelonging doesn’t even make sense.
Sitting still for longer than a few minutes is impossible. I stand, pace, wringing my hands so much my fingers begin to hurt. It’s a strange feeling being numb to the core and also so panicked I think I might have an attack: a sick mixture that has no place interfering with Christmas.
Well, this is going to be the most insane Christmas, no matter what happens. I just hope I don’t lose everything.
When a knock comes from the safe room door, a jolt of anxiety punches through me. I remember what Damian said. Don’t open the door for anyone except him.
“Celine,” he says, his voice husky.
I rush to the door, grip the handle. For a brief moment, I think about the fact that this could be a trick. It’s possible mafia men are aiming guns at him right now, forcing him to lure me out.
The thought doesn’t last long, because I know he’d never risk my life like that. I know he’d rather die than do that… because whatever else is true about us, we have a connection. Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight, and it might not fit snugly inside a fairy tale.
But we have something raw and real, something worth fighting for.
I unlock the thick metal door and pull it open. Damian presses against it from the other side, then rushes into the room, my tall Beast of a man. He looks like he’s washed, but maybe only with a towel because there are flecks of blood still clinging to his hands. He’s wearing a baggy T-shirt.
