Nico
"He what?"
The words come out quiet. Controlled. The kind of quiet that makes men reach for weapons.
Dante's voice crackles through the phone. "Grabbed her arm. Wouldn't let go until I stepped in."
My grip tightens on the device. The leather of my desk chair creaks as I lean forward. "Where are they now?"
"I put Kristen and Lily in the car. They're fine. Shaken up, but fine."
Fine. Kristen's arm. His hands on her arm. The image burns through my skull like acid.
"Bring them to the compound."
Silence stretches across the line. Then: "You sure that's a good idea?"
I close my eyes. Count to three. It doesn't help.
"Dante." My voice drops to something barely above a whisper. "You know where you can put your good ideas? Somewhere the sun doesn't shine. Now do as I said."
"Copy that."
The line goes dead.
I'm already moving before I realize I've stood up. My feet carry me through the study, down the hallway, toward the front entrance.
Jack Walker put his hands on her.
Jack Walker, who stole $80,000 from his own wife. Who let her believe she owed money to the Russian mob. Who left her struggling in a shithole apartment while he fucked his mistress in Manhattan.
Jack Walker touched her.
My knuckles crack as I flex my fingers. The scars across them ache with phantom memory—the satisfying crunch of bone, the wet warmth of blood. I haven't hurt anyone in weeks. The urge sits heavy in my chest now, coiled and waiting.
I reach the foyer just as Vittoria appears on the stairs.
"What's wrong?" She reads my face instantly. Always could. "Nico, you look like you're about to murder someone."
"Not yet."
Her eyes widen. "That's not reassuring."
I don't answer. Through the tall windows flanking the front door, I watch the iron gates at the end of the driveway. Waiting.
Three minutes. That's how long it takes for Dante's black SUV to appear through the trees. Three minutes of my blood pressure climbing, my thoughts spiraling into darker and darker territory.
The car stops at the front steps. Dante emerges first,. Then the back door opens.
Kristen climbs out with Lily in her arms.
The kid's face is buried in her mother's neck. Kristen's holding her like she'll never let go. Her hair's escaped its ponytail, strands sticking to her cheeks. Her eyes find mine through the window.
She looks terrified.
I open the front door before they reach it. The November air bites at my skin, but I don't feel the cold.
"Inside." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Both of you. Now."
