When I click the safety off, his eyes widen, and his tone shifts into a more panicked one.
“Wait—wait…Wyatt, please—”
A wave of satisfaction curls within me at that, and I almost laugh.
“You framed me,” I murmur, calm and low. “You put a target on my back just so you could rub shoulders with the Balakins and take their money. You know damn well the damage you caused, and now you’re going to pay for every second of it. As much as I’d like others to bear witness, I’ll let you suffer in silence just as I had to get here.”
Vito’s throat bobs, as if forced to breathe with manual effort. After a flicker, a deeper sense of recognition moves through his eyes.
“You’re The Vegas Ghost, aren’t you?”
I allow my lips to pull into the faintest smile, but it lacks any warmth. “The one and only. But most know me by Vic now. Took a while to grow on me.”
Vic Dubrov is the name I’ve built for myself, but thanks to my reclusive way of working, the local groups settled on that moniker. I can’t say it’s my favourite, but at least it means I have enough relevance to be a threat. Regardless of my recent success, nobody knows who I really am. It’s better if it stays that way.
But for tonight, I’ll allow the mask to come off. It’s not like Vito will be breathing soon enough anyway.
And now he seems to realise just how fucked he really is.
That familiar, opportunistic look flashes across his eyes, tangling with desperation. “Look, we can talk. We can come to an agreement. We can—there’s something I can give you. A…prize for your cunning, if you will.”
My eyes narrow at him.
A prize? A goddamn prize.
Rage easily boils beneath my skin, and I press the pistol harder against his head. “You think I’m here for negotiations?”
Vito’s breath comes fast now, chest heaving. “No, no…but you should hear me out, at the very least. Please, just listen—”
Gritting my teeth, I crowd his space. “What could you possibly offer that would stop me?”
Wordlessly, he glances to his left, settling on something across the room.
And then I see her.
I had been so focused on Vito that I didn’t even notice the young woman tied roughly to a folding chair in the corner, wrists bound behind her back. There’s a gag in her mouth, and her long, dark brown hair spills over her shoulder in messy waves. Her eyes are wide, frantic, and if I’m not mistaken, furious.
Her skin has a chilled hue to it from beneath the silver dress clinging to her body, almost like she had been out somewhere before finding herself here.
My heart stutters, completely unbidden.
I want to blame it on her beauty, or the fact that she’s trembling, but that’s not just it.
There’s something in the shape of her face. The soft, youthful roundness of her cheeks, the tilt of her chin, and the gleam of defiance in her eyes…it all reminds me of Lily. Just enough to force the breath from my lungs.
“Who the hell is she?” I demand, glancing back at him.
Vito senses my hesitation like a shark scenting blood. “She’s a deal in the making, and worth more than you know. The Grimaldis want her, but the Balakins have had their eyes on her, too. Depends on who will pay more.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You were going to sell her.”
“I was,” he utters, eyes lowered, not from guilt, but the fact that he has been intercepted by me. “The Grimaldis will be here any time to collect, but if you take her and get out of here before they arrive, then maybe we’ll both live through tonight.”
For a long moment, I stare at him, stuck in both disbelief and rage. Then I look at her.
The girl’s chest rises and falls in quick breaths, quietly fighting the ropes, along with the situation she has found herself in. Despite the undignified way she’s tied up, she holds her chin up, and it twists something in me.
In the back of my mind, I find myself in another room, in what feels like another lifetime. I see Lily bound to that chair by men I never wanted to go after her.
