If I want this mission to succeed, I have to be on my game at every moment. Even the slightest slip-up could mean my life. Just because Matteo and I have history doesn’t mean he won’t kill me when he discovers why I’m here.
It’s his life or mine.
A hint of unease coils through my insides, expanding with each labored breath, but I shove it down just like I have beenevery day since I was tasked with the mission to assassinate the man I once loved.
Closing my eyes, I remind myself I don’t give two shits about Matteo Rossi. Drawing in a breath, I refocus on the present instead of dwelling on the past that keeps trying to drag me under.
Even in early spring, the air is thick with car exhaust, hot dog water, and something faintly floral from a nearby bodega. It’s a far cry from the green hills of Belfast or the Sicilian salt air that still haunts my dreams. But the city’s grit is familiar in a way I hate to admit. It’s raw, electric, and alive.
It matches the storm inside me.
It’s not the first time I’ve been here, and I certainly hope it won’t be the last.
“So,” Sean finally says, “you’re really the one who put a bullet through Conor Ward’s skull last year?”
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “Is that what they’re saying?”
He smirks. “They’re saying a lot of things. Pretty, deadly, a ghost when you need to be. Bit of a legend for someone who disappeared after Eoin died.”
My jaw tightens. “You talk too much.” How much intel did Da give this guy about me anyway? It’s not like him.
Sean laughs, not offended in the slightest. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be so quiet. Or pretty. I thought you’d be more bloodthirsty.”
“Wait ‘til I’ve had my coffee.”
Another bark of laughter. “You’re staying at my place,” he adds after a beat, more serious now.
I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I hold my tongue for now. Da wouldn’t have put me up with the guy if he didn’t trust him.
“It’s on the top floor, West Village,” he continues. “It’s safe, quiet, and under the radar. You’ve got a burner, the lock codes, and everything you’ll need. You hungry?”
“No.”
“You’re gonna be. You’re too skinny to be pulling hits.”
I shoot him a glare that could kill a lesser man.
“Easy, lass.” He chuckles. “Just an observation.”
The rest of the drive is silent except for the low hum of the engine and the sharp staccato of horns in traffic. Outside, Manhattan blurs past. It’s all glittering towers, flashing billboards, and steam rising from manhole covers. Beautiful chaos. Just like I remembered it.
“You’ll like it here,” Sean says after a while.
I don’t find it necessary to tell him this isn’t my first visit. It’s better if he underestimates me, like they all usually do. That’s what makes me so good at my job.
“Just watch your back. The city’s crawling with Rossi men, and most of them are too cocky to look over their shoulder. Especially Matteo.”
I don’t answer, but my hand curls into a fist in my lap.
He glances sideways at me. “You’re gonna kill him, right?”
Is this guy testing me or is he just sizing me up? I meet his gaze through my sunglasses. “That’s the plan.”
His smile fades a little. “Good.” There’s something hard in his voice now. Something personal.
“You got a problem with Matteo Rossi?”
“My cousin was caught in that shootout at the Quinlan estate. One of Matteo’s or maybe one of the other Rossis’ bullets clipped his spine. He’ll never walk again.”
