She stands tall, her chin lifted. Some bruising litters her face, but she stands on her own two feet.
My eyes shift to Amie. And behind me, I hear the noise that comes from Luc’s throat.
I’m not even certain that it’s her at first. So muchbloodcovers her face, savage, deep cuts over every part of her exposed skin.She slumps against the men holding her, not able to hold herself up. Unconscious, or close to. Her eyes barely open beneath the swelling, fresh wounds on top of old.
And herhair– the hair she was always so proud of, vain about – her hair is gone. Hacked off in clumps, scant patches of blond dotted over a scalp riddled with fuckingburns.
“Jesus,” someone breathes. Rocco.
This plan – as long a shot as it always was, has now become even harder. Because Amie looks as though she’s dying, as if they have pushed her to the edge just in time for us to witness it.
Matteo doesn’t say a thing. He just watches, grinning.
I have had my fill of men like him. Of men like Matteo, and Salvatore, who see us as things for them to own and control and hurt – as less than them,belongingto them.
I am so fucking tired, as I stare at Amie’s face. Tired of failing. Of my own self-loathing, of seeing the same nightmares, night after night. But I will have to live with those memories, because ofthem. Amie and Frankie will have to live with it, too.
But first, they have tolive.
“Choose,” Matteo calls, his voice light and amused again. “One lives. One dies. Or possibly both, since you’ve managed to irritate me, cousin. I had to change the game, since you weren’t here. I’m not feeling in an overlygivingmood. But you won’t know either way, unless youchoose.”
I breathe in as the nooses are wrapped around their necks, the knot tightened. Frankie doesn’t move, doesn’t look down at us. At Tony, as he surges forward with an agonised plea. “Cat, please.”
They’re shoved to the edge of the railings, their feet pushed over.
Vincent pulls him back as I watch. Slowly, I slide out my gun, testing. Around me, the others do the same.
Men flood out onto the balcony, each of them with their own weapons. Dozens of them, all pointed at us. Two sides with guns raised watch each other.
“You see,” Matteo murmurs. “Some of this artwork is worth a lot of money, Caterina. More than enough to pay the bills until that little inconvenience is fixed. So we have a stalemate.”
I ignore him as Amie stirs. Her eyes open a little more, slow recognition filtering in. I’m not sure if she can even see me before they close again.
We’re running out of time.
“So?” Matteo yawns. “I’m a busy man. I have an empire to run,cugina, so get on with it.”
Slipping the gun back into my holster, I pull out my dagger instead. Twirl it in my hands, and shrug. “I don’t particularly care. Kill them both.”
“No.” Tony roars at me, and there is no feigning the terror in his voice. Vincent pulls him back, his hand barely brushing his shoulder.
I glance at Luc, but he looks away from me, his jaw tightening.
Matteo laughs, delighted. “Do I sense some dissension in your ranks? Your moral high ground appears to be sinking,cugina.”
“You cold-hearted bitch.” My heart stumbles over that, as Tony throws insults at me.
My heart pounds. I refuse to look in Luc’s direction, to see the disgusted look he’s currently giving me. The judgment.
Come on.
Comeon.
I glance at Frankie. She’s staring down at Tony now, a numb expression on her face.
She doesn’t seem shocked. As if… as if she never expected to survive this anyway.
Rolling my eyes, I look back to Matteo. “Your move.”
