"You're insane—"
"Yes." No hesitation. "And I'd do it again right now if I thought I could get away with it."
I stared at Kai Accardi, the man who'd taken my virginity, the most dangerous person I could possibly want.
Three months. I had three months before I married his father.
The way he was looking at me—like I was already his and he was just waiting to prove it?
I wasn't going to survive this.
Chapter Four
The day I met her, I wanted to kill my father.
Not figuratively. Not in some abstract "I hate you" son-versus-father bullshit way. I mean I literally stood in his office with my hand on my gun, safety off, finger on the trigger, and the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet between Don Salvatore Accardi's eyes was Marco's slight headshake from across the room.
Not yet.
Not yet because we didn't have enough evidence compiled. Not yet because the Council wouldn't sanction it without proof. Not yet because killing him without the proper backing would mean they'd come for Lia next, and I'd burn the entire fucking world down before I let anyone touch my sister.
So I stood there like a good little soldier while my father—the man who'd murdered my mother and made it look like suicide—informed me that he was selling Lia off like a piece of meat to some captain in the DeLuca family.
"She's eighteen now. Perfect age for marriage. The DeLuca captain needs a wife, we need stronger ties to their shipping routes. Simple transaction."
Simple transaction. Like Lia wasn't a person. Like she was just another asset in his portfolio to be traded and leveraged.
"No." The word came out flat. Cold. "Lia isn't going anywhere."
My father's backhand caught me across the face before I could blink. The ring he wore—his father's ring, the one with the family crest—split my lip. I tasted copper and rage.
"You don't make decisions in this family, boy." His voice was conversational. Pleasant, even. Like he was discussing the weather instead of selling his daughter. "Lia is an asset. You're an asset. You both exist to serve this family's interests. I've been far too lenient with you, letting you think you have a say. Time you remembered your place."
My hand went to my gun again. Pure instinct. Pure fury.
Marco coughed. Not even subtle about it. Just a loud, deliberate sound that snapped my attention to him for half a second.
His eyes said everything: Not like this. Not without proof. Think of Lia.
I forced my hand away from the weapon. Forced my face into something resembling neutral. Forced words out through clenched teeth.
"Of course, Father. My apologies."
"Better." Salvatore smiled like he'd just won. Like he always won. "Now get out. I have work to do."
I left before I did something we'd both regret. Well, something I wouldn't regret but couldn't afford.
Twenty minutes later, I was in the gym beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag. My knuckles were bleeding. My lip was still split. And all I could see was my father's face superimposed on that bag.
Lia was eighteen. Same age I was when I'd figured out what kind of monster we were living with. When I'd started gathering evidence, building a case, planning his downfall. She deserved better than this life. Better than being sold off to strengthen some bullshit alliance.
I hit the bag harder. Blood from my knuckles splattered across the leather.
"You planning to murder that thing, or are you working up to the real target?"
Marco's voice came from the doorway. I didn't stop hitting.
"If I was planning murder, you'd already know about it."
