Until now, it had been easy to feel like no time had passed between when we were kids and now, our friendship picking up where we left off. But so much has changed in that time. Enzo is no longer that same boy, with hopes and dreams of his own, and I’m no longer the naive little girl he left behind.
I have to remind myself that this is temporary. I’ll stay here until I recover fully from the attack and I can contact Cam to get myself reassigned. It will be a shame to take a step back from the action, but Lucas thinks I’m dead, or missing, or—
Crap.
What if someone recognized me at the club?
How could I have been so stupid to forget that I would need to hide? Even if this is Enzo’s territory.
My legs carry me to Enzo’s office. I don’t bother knocking, but the door is locked when I try to twist the handle. I pound on the door. “Enzo!”
It swings open, and I stumble forward, Enzo catching me before I can fall.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, frantically scanning me over.
“Does Lucas know I’m alive?”
His expression stutters before his palm scrapes over his jaw as he clenches and unclenches it. He motions me inside, sittingback at his desk then turning his screen toward me.
Lucas’s face appears before me, and I suck in a breath, fury racing through my bloodstream at the sight of his fake sadness. He tells the camera that his new wife is missing, that he hopes for her safe return. He says that he’s heartbroken without me, a broken shell of a man. Then, of course, he manages to slip in a little nod to his campaign for Congress.
I hate him. I always hated him. But there’s an anger there now that wasn’t before. A desire to see his blood spill, to watch him and his friends go through the same pain I felt when they took from me.
Enzo clicks on something, and a new video fills the screen. His brow furrows as he hesitates before pressing play.
“My wife has been spotted with criminals.” Lucas’s voice rings through the room, steady yet laced with just the right amount of distress. A flurry of questions erupts, but he raises a hand, silencing them.
“She would never do this willingly,” he insists, voice thick with emotion. “They’re holding her hostage, forcing her to—” He cuts off, choking on a sob so convincing it almost seems real. Almost. Then, with a hardened expression, he continues. “They’re making her dress in practically nothing, parading her around for their pleasure.”
A reporter speaks up. “Who are these criminals?”
Lucas lifts his gaze, staring straight into the camera—straight at me. It’s deliberate, like he knows I’m watching.
“The Russo family.”
Enzo
I watch Izzy as she listens to Lucas’s speech. The rise and fall ofher chest quickens, her breath uneven. Her fists are clenched so tightly at her sides they tremble.
Gio sent me the first video last night. It was waiting in my inbox when I stormed in. I’m furious that she’s hiding something from me.
After I watched the first, I saw the second—this one from this morning.
The fact that Lucas already knows about Izzy unsettles me. Only those loyal to me are allowed into my club. Unless some drunk partygoer recognized her and posted it online? But we spent most of the night upstairs, where no one could see us.
Has someone betrayed me?
It wouldn’t be the first time. Matteo’s betrayal still cuts deep. We grew up together, two teens thrown into a world of violence. That didn’t stop him from selling out my sister’s location for the right price.
Izzy’s wide eyes snap to mine, her body trembling, and all my frustration with her vanishes. I pull her into my lap, her back against my chest. She curls into me, taking comfort in my presence, and something inside me settles.
“He’s put a target on your back,” she whispers, her voice raw.
Before I can answer, the door to my office slams open.
In an instant, I’m on my feet, Izzy shielded behind me, my gun raised, finger on the trigger.
Papa stands in the doorway, his hard gaze unfazed by the weapon pointed at him.
