Adele sprinted forward, like a stalking beast finally moving to strike its prey. Except her prey wasn’t whom Santino would have expected. She didn’t come for him, or Reiko. She went for Corinna. She went for his mother.
Santino wasn’t even sure it was Nonno whose stilted gasp split the air, only that he felt his own heart jump to his throat. His cousin moved with a fierce precision he’d never imagined she possessed until she had his mother on her knees, a knife at her throat and her hair twisted in one hand. The move was so efficient she couldn’t possibly have done it by instinct alone, and certainly not by luck.
Adele had been training for this, somewhere secret. This rebellion of hers—or theirs—wasn’t as sudden as merely being angry about helping a few Russians in Chicago. That had been a conveniently timed excuse to rally some more men to their cause at best.
Mamma let out a startled yelp, her hands frozen halfway to the arm that held the knife at her neck and her eyes wide with panic, confusion, and flickers of fear. It’d been years since she’d come so close to the dangers of their world. Nonno had worked very hard to shelter his daughters, and he’d doubled down where Mamma was concerned when Santino had been just a toddler. Even as a grown woman, she was a spoiled princess in too many ways. “Wh-what is—Dell? Adele?”
Anger or not, the hurt in his mother’s voice stabbed at Santino’s heart.
Reiko laced her fingers with his as if she’d felt the same pain. Or perhaps she was reminding him he wasn’t facing the enemy on his own. Or, hell, maybe she was scared. It wouldn’t have been unreasonable.
“Adele,” Zia Lorenza wheezed in the next heartbeat of silence, a lecture laced with the shock in what remained of her voice. “Don’t…”
Adele cut a quick glance over her shoulder and spoke in startlingly abrasive Italian. “Save your breath, mother.” Her glare returned to Santino, the knife at Corinna’s throat unwavering, and continued in Italian. “You killed my brother last night, and we’re just supposed to welcome you with open arms? I ought to spill some of your blood to even us out.”
Behind Adele, Nonno sat frozen, suddenly every bit the ailing and elderly man he was with no sign of the once-fearsome mafia Boss he’d been. Only echoes of his pride remained.
It was that same pride, and undoubtedly the ever-present guilt at the years he hadn’t been such a good father to Zia Lorenza, that had put him and Santino’s mother in their current predicaments. Maybe he was coming to see that, maybe not. Santino only hoped he would hold himself in check long enough for the knife to move away from Mamma’s throat.
Reiko’s arm trembled for a jarring moment, and then her voice whispered like the rumble preceding an avalanche through the room. “That was definitely the voice I heard shouting at Danilo while I was hogtied last night.”
Santino exhaled slowly. He’d already received the proof, but her declaration would still carry weight—particularly in light of the statement he’d made sure their arrival had made.
Nonno’s head shook, but Santino couldn’t see his expression.
Nor did he care.
Santino held Adele’s glare and spoke in English. “I don’t need your confession, Adele. I have more evidence than I would ever bother collecting for most people.”
“You have no evidence of anything,” Adele said, her voice a hiss. “Who would put stock in the words of your little trash whore? It won’t be sticking around.”
Santino felt his head tilt to one side as the anger settled into his blood. The room came into sharper focus and he had to consciously keep himself from clenching his fists until his knuckles cracked. “I beg your pardon?”
Adele raised her chin. “In fact, you should be. Begging, that is. Don’t forget who’s holding the knife here.”
The heart monitor’s cadence increased and Zia sucked in a hard breath. “Stop this!” She attempted to twist sideways and fell swiftly into a gasping coughing fit.
Nonno moved as fast as his body ever let him, grabbing up her water and half shoving it at her in a manner that had liquid sloshing over the sides of the cup.
Santino watched all of that in his peripheral, never fully taking his focus from Adele. “Don’t you see what you’re doing? You may as well havebothour mothers by the throat. I’d prefer we leave them out of this, wouldn’t you?”
Adele’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what you’d ‘prefer’. Would you like to know whatI’dprefer?”
Santino slipped on a placating smile. “I mostly just want to know what will motivate you to release my mother without slitting her throat. We’re not here for therapy, cousin.” But they were sure as fuck going to end up causing a need for some, unfortunately.
Adele let out a huff of a laugh, her lips twisting into a cruel smile Santino could never have imagined on her face. “Maybe the answer is nothing. Maybe Ihatethis whiny little princess-bitch for everything she’s taken from me!”
Mamma made a sound of confusion, her head tipped back as she tried to stare up at Adele.
Adele’s arm tensed, the knife tilting as she prepared to slice.
Guns lifted in Santino’s periphery.
Nonno stepped up behind Adele, and she froze again. Mamma’s hair slipped from her slackened grip, though herknife held—with a faint tremble. Sadness darkened what Santino could see of Nonno’s expression, and when his grandfather spoke, his gravelly voice shook. “There’s air in this needle, Dell. And I’m not so old I can’t compress my thumb.”
Adele’s brow pinched, a different kind of pain blending with the open anger on her face. “Always”—she straightened her arm, releasing Mamma from the threat of the knife—“still, always, you choose her.”
Armando swept forward and helped rush Santino’s mother off the floor and out of Adele’s range.
