Relief floods me, followed by a sickening twist of disappointment.
Thank God for the dim lighting in here.It hides the way my face falls, the relief flooding through me, followed by a sickening twist of disappointment.
He doesn’t remember.
The man who murdered my brother in cold blood, and he doesn’t even fucking remember.
I should be glad. It means my cover is safe. But part of me wants to scream, to claw that mask from his face and make him look, really look at the lives he’s shattered.
And then it hits me, the realization slamming into my gut like a sledgehammer.
This man, this monster… he’s not only my brother’s killer…
He’s Elijah’s father.
The man I’m here to kill, to erase from this earth… he’s the reason my son exists.
I feel sick. Dizzy. The room spins around me as the truth sinks in.
What the fuck do I do now?
My feet move on their own, carrying me away from the horror of it.
This changes everything.
I need to think, to re-strategize.
What a colossal fuck-up.
I shove through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed grunts and curses. Just keep moving.
Suddenly, a hand clamps onto my hip, fingers digging into my flesh. “Where you going in such a hurry,bella signora?”
The voice is heavily accented. I whirl around, ready to introduce his balls to my knee.
And find myself staring at a wall of expensive Italian wool. I crane my neck, taking in the massive man leering down at me. He’s built like a tank, all broad shoulders and beefy arms.
Great. Just what I need: some handsy oligarch looking for a good time.
I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. Sweat beads on my forehead, trickles down my back.
Can’t make a scene.
Can’t risk swallowing the poison.
His other hand drifts lower, squeezing my ass. Rage ignites in my veins, burning through the shock and panic.
Oh, hell no.
Muscle memory kicks in. I grab his wrist, twisting hard as I pivot. A perfect Hapkido lock.
He yelps in surprise, drawing curious stares.
Fucking perfect.
I release him, shoving him back.
Hands to yourself, prick.
