But not before we’re ready. Hasty revenge is often incomplete revenge,Sophia cautions.
Two weeks,Matteo’s voice suggests.Enough time to plan properly but not enough time for them to prepare.
“Two weeks,” I say, deciding to listen to Matteo’s voice. Giuseppe snarls in disapproval but I ignore him. “Give me two weeks to put everything together.”
“And Alessandro?” Matteo asks.
The mention of his name sends a fresh wave of fury through me.
They hurt him.
They put him in surgery, made him bleed, and could have killed him. All because he was protecting me, supporting me, loving me.
They hurt what’s ours,Giuseppe roars.That cannot stand.
Use his injury,Sophia says, her voice sly.Make it part of the narrative.
No, you need to keep him safe while you work,Matteo’s voice adds.Don’t let emotion compromise his security.
“Alessandro recovers,” I say firmly. “And then he helps me finish this.”
I’m going to need him.
Not just for the support or the emotional grounding, but because what I’m planning is going to require someone who understands both the old ways and the new.
Someone who can match my darkness without losing his thinking.
Someone who can love me even as I become something that might terrify everyone else.
“Dominic wanted to see what I’m really capable of,” I say, and my voice carries a promise that makes the hospital room feel smaller, more dangerous. “Now he’s going to fucking find out.”
They all are,the voices agree in unison, for once speaking with one voice instead of three.
They all are.
As I lie back against the hospital pillows, already planning the destruction of an entire crime family, I feel something I’ve never experienced before.
Not just confidence. Not just determination.
Purpose.
I know exactly who I am now.
Not Giuseppe’s daughter or Matteo’s heir or even Alessandro’s…well, whatever we are.
I’m something entirely new. I’m the woman who’s about to remind New York exactly why you don’t fuck with the DeLucas.
And I can’t wait to get started.
23
ALESSANDRO
Ten days.
Ten days since the Calabreses tried to murder us both in broad daylight, and my ribs still scream as phantom pain shoots through my chest where the bullet cracked bone and punctured lung.
The surgical site throbs with a dull, persistent ache that reminds me every time I breathe just how close we came to dying.
