"I know exactly where I came from." I keep my voice level, my body loose, even as every instinct screams that I have walked into a trap. "What I do not understand is why you have invited two men I am actively working to destroy into your home."
I feel no need to sugarcoat the truth.
Magnus's smile pushes the need to bury my fist in his face to the top of my must-do list..
"That's the problem with you, Milano. You think you're the only one capable of making alliances."
Drake shifts beside me, his hand moving closer to his weapon. I feel the tension radiating from his body, the coiled readiness of a man who has survived decades in this world by never being caught off guard. But we are outnumbered here, in enemy territory, with my own father apparently siding with the men who want to take everything from me.
"Father." I turn my attention to Enzo, searching his face for some explanation that makes sense. "You damn fool. You are blinded by greed. What have you done?"
The old man leans back in his chair, and for a moment I see a flicker of something that might be regret before his expression hardens into the familiar mask of disappointed patriarch. "WhatI should have done years ago.” He pauses. “Found a partner willing to do the dirty work needed to get us out from under all these fuckers like the men of Genesis. What a stupid fucking name. Forget the heir. I no longer care."
“You should. The second you turn to dust, this bastard will thank you for the wealth and empire and then set to erase your existence.”
My father actually rolls his eyes like no one would dare defy his word even beyond the grave.
"I have an heir on the way," I say, though the words are sour on my tongue. "Persia signed the contract. Her father witnessed it at Genesis not three hours ago. And I’m damn sure she’s already carrying my child."
Fiore's laugh is ugly and bitter. "That contract is worthless without the girl to fulfill it. And my daughter is currently on her way to righting this disaster. She has an obligation to me and I aim to make sure she follows through with it."
The world narrows to a single point of focus. "What did you say?"
Magnus steps forward, his movements carrying the lazy confidence of a man who believes he has already won. "Your pretty little bride is back where she belongs, Milano. In my possession. Where she should have been all along if you hadn't interfered with matters that didn't concern you."
The rage that erupts in my chest is volcanic, all-consuming, threatening to incinerate every scrap of control I have spent decades cultivating. I take a step toward Magnus, my hand reaching for the gun beneath my jacket, and that is when my father moves.
The shot catches me in the left shoulder, spinning me halfway around with the force of impact. Pain explodes through my body, white-hot and blinding, and I stagger against Drake, who catches me before I can fall.
"Stay down!" Drake shoves me behind the nearest armchair and draws his weapon in a single fluid motion, firing twice in rapid succession. The first shot knocks the gun from my father's trembling hands. The second buries itself in the wall inches from Fiore's head as the governor dives for cover.
I press my palm against my shoulder and feel blood seeping through my fingers, hot and slick and entirely too plentiful. The bullet went through, I think, based on the fire radiating from both front and back, but the pain is making it hard to focus on anything except the primal need to get to Persia.
My own father shot me.
The realization settles into my bones with a weight that threatens to crush what remains of my control. I have spent my entire life trying to earn this man's approval, trying to prove that I was worthy of the name Milano despite never being the son he wanted. And in return, he put a bullet in my shoulder to help the men who want to destroy everything I have built.
"Enough." Magnus's voice cuts through the chaos, calm and commanding. He has not moved from his position near my father's desk, has not even reached for a weapon, watching the violence unfold with the detached interest of a man observing animals in a cage. "We did not come here to kill Rafael. Not yet, anyway."
Drake keeps his weapon trained on my father, his chest heaving with controlled breaths. "Give me one good reason not to putthe next one between the old man's eyes and then it will be your turn, Magnus."
"Not yet,” I tell Drake. I push myself upright, ignoring the fresh wave of agony that rolls through my shoulder, and meet Magnus Sterling's gaze with everything I have left. "What do you want for her?"
The smile that spreads across his face is the most terrifying thing I have ever seen.
"What I have always wanted, Milano. What was promised to me before you decided to play hero." He reaches into his jacket and produces a phone, turning the screen toward me to display an image that makes my heart stop beating.
Persia, bound and gagged in what looks like the back of a van, her aqua eyes wide with terror and her violet hair matted with what might be blood.
"She fought," Magnus says conversationally, tucking the phone back into his pocket. "I always did appreciate a woman with spirit. It makes the breaking so much more satisfying."
I am going to kill him. I am going to tear him apart with my bare hands and feed the pieces to the dogs and burn whatever remains until there is nothing left but ash. But first, I need to get to Persia, and that means playing whatever game this monster has designed.
"Name your price." The words scrape against my throat like broken glass. "Whatever you want, it is yours. Just let her go."
"Everything." Magnus moves around my father's desk, trailing his fingers across the polished wood with proprietary ease. "Redthorne Holdings. The Scarlet Thorn. Every contract, everyterritory, every asset you have accumulated in your pathetic attempt to build an empire. Sign it all over to me, and I will consider letting your precious bride live long enough to watch you lose everything."
Drake makes a sound of protest, but I silence him with a look.
