"Then work fast."
We make it to my apartment. The door frame is splintered where it was kicked in. Bullet holes dot the walls. Glass crunches under our feet.
"Jesus," I whisper, seeing the destruction in daylight.
"Ten minutes," Dante reminds me, positioning himself by the door while Luca does a sweep of the rooms.
I head to my bedroom first, carefully lifting the potted plants from the windowsill. Then to the living room for the larger ones. I'm trying to figure out how to carry them all when I hear it.
A shuffle. A creak.
Dante's hand goes to his weapon. "Someone's here."
"Clear," Luca calls from the bedroom, emerging into the living room. Then he freezes. "Dante?—"
Tony steps out from the kitchen, gun already drawn. "Hey there, Miss Messina. Fancy meeting you here."
Dante's weapon comes up. "Tony? What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Just following orders." Tony's smile is cold. "New orders."
"Marco sent you?" I ask, confused.
"Not exactly."
Everything happens fast. Two more men emerge from my bedroom—they must have been hiding in the closet during Luca's sweep.
Dante shouts a warning. Gunfire erupts.
Dante takes a hit to the shoulder and goes down. Luca returns fire, taking out one of the men, but the second one catches him from behind with a blow to the head. He crumples.
I'm frozen. Staring at Tony. At this man who was supposed to be one of ours.
"Why?" The word comes out strangled.
"Money talks, sweetheart. Ronan pays better than the Rossos ever did." Tony moves toward me. "And delivering you personally? That's bonus money."
I turn to run but there's nowhere to go. He catches me easily, one arm wrapping around my waist, gun pressing into my ribs.
"Let's go. We have people waiting."
He drags me toward the door. I try to fight, try to scream, but his grip is iron. We're in the hallway, then the stairwell. A black van is waiting in the alley.
I'm shoved inside. The door slams. Tony climbs in after me, along with another man.
"Drive," Tony orders.
As the van pulls away, I catch a glimpse of my building. Of Dante pulling himself up in the doorway, phone to his ear, blood staining his shirt.
At least he's alive. At least he can tell Marco what happened.
"Where are you taking me?" I keep my voice steady.
"Someplace quiet. Boss wants to have a chat with you."
"Ronan?"
Tony laughs. "Ronan? That Irish prick works for someone else now. Someone with bigger plans than collecting your daddy's gambling debts."
