As I watched his skin bruise, I imagined the bruises she must have had.
An irrational guilt overcame me.
I should have been the one to protect her. An impossible thought. When this nightmare occurred, I was unaware of her fucking existence.
And yet?
I slaughtered that man like a damn animal, allowing his cries of agony to seep into my dark soul. My craving was satisfied, but when I turned around, I found my angel in a full-on panic attack.
Because of me.
She finally got to see the demon inside me in its evilest form. Her tears of fear—
“Mr. Stevens,” an elder man greeted us just outside the huge double doors of the house. The state of whatever this was between Karina and I would have to wait. Unfortunately for the people around me, I was not a patient man.
“Take us to Emily,” I demanded, already bored with the pleasantries.
He smiled. “Ms. Tipponi is out today, sir.”
Here came that not giving a fuck thing. I whipped out my 9mm, pointing it against his wrinkly, weathered forehead. “Don’t toy with me, old man.”
Charles Tipponi’s daughter was here. I had a man on the inside to confirm.
“Col,” my angel breathed from beside me, her hold on my arm tightening. I ignored her. She shouldn’t have been here either, but yet her place was at my side. That was where she had been for the last eight days, nineteen hours, and thirty minutes, and that is where she would remain. Forever.
The grand, double doors opened, a groan coming from the hinges, to reveal Emily Tipponi, seven men behind her and three on the stairs.
I raised a brow. “Unless you plan on digging graves today, Ms. Tipponi, I suggest you order your men to stand down.”
Her eyes darted from me to my angel to my man behind her. The princess sighed, exhausted. “Lower your guns, you buffoons,” she said, twisting her neck to look at her men.
Once they did as they were told, she turned back to us. “Follow me.”
Five minutes later, the four of us stood in the middle of Charles Tipponi’s study. I had been here once or twice before, running errands for Romano. Emily had just entered college then. Now, three years later, she stood in the middle of her father’s office with more power than she knew what to do with.
Out of the kindness of my heart, I was here to help with that.
“Where is my father?” the young Mafia princess asked as she rounded her father’s—no, he was dead—her desk. I smirked at her. That was the one thing I admired about the youngest Tipponi.
She was all business and no bullshit.
“I’m flattered you think I had something to do with his disappearance,” I drawled, ignoring Karina’s curious stare. There were many things I hadn’t told her yet, but there were things that she had been reluctant totell me.
There was comfort in our secrets.
For now.
She would eventually know everything.
Emily scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. “Don’t play coy with me, Mr. Stevens. I know that when Romano needs—”
“I am no longer an errand boy, Ms. Tipponi. For the sake of the air in your lungs, you would do well to remember that,” I warned, my voice ice cold, freezing all possible doubts that hung between us.
Her features, softened. “You—you really have no idea what happened to him?”
I dusted off my shoulder. “Your father is dead.”
No point in hiding the truth.
