She needs a fucking army.
And that’s exactly what I’m spending every waking hour working to give her. We’re going to march on the Asante estate and burn it to the ground to get her out.
Assoonas Alessia is safe, we move.
We disperse to the machines, making a show of working out as Marco starts yelling orders. I grab the phone from Rocco,ignoring his irritated expression as I press it to my ear and retreat to the benches. “We’re going to find them, Dante.”
His voice slips, revealing the grief, the fear, that lingers underneath. “If they’re hurt, Gio—,”
“Dom is there,” I say roughly. “He never leaves Matteo’s side, by all accounts. He will not let anything happen to Alessia. And Luc…,”
I sigh.
Dante only snarls. “I’m still going to kill him when I see him.”
I stare out at the gym, watching as Nico types a message out on his phone. “Shoot more than once. I swear that fucker must have nine lives.”
Although he lost more than a few, the same night that we lost Cat. He’d crawled more than a mile when I found him, most of his blood on theoutside.
That I even found him at all was a fucking miracle. I pull my own phone out of my pocket.
Check it, just in case a message has come through.
“You trust that he has some sort of plan?”
“You don’t?”
Dante sighs. “I don’t know what to fucking believe anymore. We have no choice but to trust him. But she’s a baby, Gio. Why wouldn’t he have spoken to us first, put a plan together?”
I don’t answer, although I suspect I know exactly why Luciano Morelli didn’t consult us before strolling into the lion’s den.
Guilt.
Day 39 – Luciano
My foot crashes into a full bottle of champagne as I dance my way down the long dining table, kicking plates and glasses out of my way.
Offering a lazy grin at the cheers that rise up when it smashes against the wall, I crook my finger at the girl dancing at the other end.
Her eyes light up, red and green light flashing over her face as she bounces towards me, pressing our hips together as we shift in time to the music.
The room is filled with the smoke of cigars, the techno music threatening to make my ears bleed.
A scream sounds in the background. More laughter.
The girl tries to slam our mouths together as if she hasn’t heard it, and I yank my head back with a rough laugh. “I don’t kiss whores.”
When her face falls, I peck her on the cheek instead, my finger brushing her chin. “Go and see if you can drag a smile out of Rossi instead. The uptight prick could use a little something.”
She sashays away from me with a pout but jumps off the table, staggering in her heels.
Raising my hands above my head, I sway to the music, my eyes half-lidded as she pads across the packed room. Sweat trickles down my back, my loosened tie and the undone buttons on my shirt not enough to bring any relief from the stifling heat of too many bodies packed into the small space.
Dom tilts his head to listen to her, an irritated expression flickering across his face as he looks my way before he shakes his head, pushing her roving hands away.
My grin stretches across my face, unnaturally wide as I raise the cigar to my mouth and puff on it, offering him a cocky salute with my other hand. Leaning down, I snag the neck of another champagne bottle, raising it up to the ceiling in a toast as my voice rises over the music. “To the Hawk!”
“The Hawk!”
