They would learn what happened when someone threatened what belonged to the Goddess.
Chapter 46
Themorningdawnedwithrain slamming against my bedroom window, the storm that had rolled in overnight matching the tempest in my stomach. I'd barely slept. Every time I’d closed my eyes, I’d seen my father's face, then Don Azzaro's hands covered in his blood. Today, I'd face that monster—the man who’d ordered Daddy killed—and if everything went according to plan, I'd watch him die. My fingers trembled as I applied eyeliner for the third time, cursing under my breath as I smudged the wing again. Stupid to care how I looked for a kidnapping, but I needed something—anything—to control.
Gavriel had left in the middle of the night for the compound leaving four guys downstairs in the living room.
I dressed for the part: Rhea’s cropped jacket, a battered Giants cap, the collar popped to obscure the cut of my jaw, hair twisted in a messy bun that leaked strands along my neck. Her perfume, sweet and somehow comforting, clung to the lining. Each time I inhaled, I remembered the night she’d clung to me, trembling in my office after Ricky Mendez’s beating. I let that memory sourinto anger, then let the anger melt into calculation. I wanted them to see Rhea when they looked at me.
The plan was simple. I would be the bait, drive Rhea’s midnight-blue sedan along her usual route, and make myself an irresistible target. Gavriel and Harley would be waiting at the compound, weapons close, hearts closer. But when the time came that Don Azzaro’s men would take me, I’d be truly alone.
After heading into the garage where we had parked her car and sliding into the driver's seat, grabbing her phone, I sent a quick text to Gavriel, letting him know I was on the move. With any luck, they would fall for it. I put the car in gear, hands steady, and rolled out into the waking city.
Every streetlight was a countdown, every intersection a coin toss.
Please take the fucking bait. We are running out of time.
The radio was set to a station blasting alternative rock, something to keep my nerves from humming off the charts. While the beat kept my mind centered and focused, it didn’t work on my nerves. My eyes kept going to the mirrors, searching for a tail among the morning commuters, old men in inconspicuous sedans, or even maybe a cop or two on the payroll.
I hit South Orange at 8:17, just about the same time she did on her way to work every day. At the next light, I thrummed my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music and screamed out the lyrics, just the way Rhea and I had done many times when we would go on a girls shopping trip before Dad had died. The sky was so heavy with rain, it still felt much earlier than it was. There was little sunlight coming through the thick clouds, which covered the city in darkness.
Three blocks later, I saw them. A black SUV, windows tinted, crawled up behind me at the light. Reflexively, my foot twitchedtoward the gas, but I forced it to stay put. If I jumped too soon, the whole plan might unravel.
The light turned green. I made the left onto Broad and saw the SUV close in behind in the rearview mirror. I counted breaths in my chest—one, two, three—and then WHAM—the world splintered into shards of sound and motion. Metal screamed against metal as Rhea's car crumpled inward like wet cardboard.
My skull cracked against the window.
Airbags exploded in my face—chalky powder, burning plastic.
Everything spun and spun some more.
Blood was in my mouth.
I couldn’t breathe.
Glass rained down.
Horns blared somewhere, everywhere.
When the movement finally stopped, my thoughts were scattered like someone had broken a set of pool balls on the table. I blinked, trying to find focus and see what still worked: fingers, toes, neck—Jesus, my neck.
Fuck. Did they have to hit me? And so hard at that!
A man whose face was obscured by a shadow yanked open my door. His voice, rough and gravelly, grated against my ears. "Señorita, you're coming with us."
My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my head down. The hat hopefully shielded my face enough.
"What . . . What's happening? Who are you?" My voice trembled as I put on a show to ensure they believed me to be Rhea.
"Don Juarez and your father send their regards." He didn't offer an explanation, didn't bother with pleasantries. Just a blunt statement of purpose. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced me.
He pulled me roughly from the car. My legs were unable to find their footing, slipping on and crashing down against the wet pavement. The pain in my hip was immediate, intense, butI tried to remind myself that this was exactly what we’d planned for. I would take the beating. In fact, I dared them to mark me. Gavriel would return it with brutal efficiency.
“Where are you taking me?" I managed to croak, my body aching, my vision blurred.
"Somewhere you can answer questions and have a bubble bath." His tone dripped with sarcasm. They dragged me as I tried to get to my feet to a black SUV before picking me up, securing my hands with zip ties in front of me, and tossing me into the back, the doors slamming shut with a finality that echoed the death of my freedom.
Moments later, the SUV lurched forward, leaving the twisted metal of our vehicles behind. A wave of nausea washed over me. Not just from the impact, but from the cold realization that there was no going back now.
