Luca’s wails fill the room as tears streak down his flushed cheeks while he reaches for me.
“Mama!”
“He’s just a baby. Put him down. I’ll do whatever you want!” I sob.
An arm locks around my body from behind and I’m wrenched backward, my feet sliding out from under me as I’m thrown hard onto the floor.
The impact rattles my teeth while pain blooms sharp and hot along my spine, a choked noise leaving me.
I twist and claw, raking my nails down the exposed skin around the mask of the man pinning me to the floor, feeling skin split beneath my fingers.
He grunts, startled more than hurt, and I scream until my throat burns.
I kick blindly, every movement fueled by one thought alone.Luca. Luca. Luca.
Then a sharp blow slams into my face.
The pain is immediate and blinding.
My head snaps back violently and strikes the floor with a hollow thud.
The world explodes into white-hot stars, my vision fracturing and swimming as nausea rolls through me in waves.
For a moment, I’m not sure where I am or who I am.
When I finally blink through the haze, shapes begin to sharpen once again. The man pinning me moves, a gloved hand coming up to wipe at his face while another takes his place.
The man hovering over me moves unnervingly silently. His mask hides his face, but my eyes snag on his hand as it lowers to the weapons strapped at his hip.
A gold ring on his pinky… this up close, I spot the serpent coiled in on itself, twisted into a figure-8.
My breath stutters painfully as he lifts his other hand and reaches for his mask. When he pulls it off, there’s no mistaking him.
Leonardo Sarto.
One of his most trusted men. Loyal to the bone, a shadow at Don Dante Cosenza’s right hand for as long as I can remember.
I’ve seen him kill without blinking. I’ve even seen him smile while doing it.
His gaze settles on me, calm and assessing, like I’m nothing more than an inconvenience.
“You always cause such a ruckus,” he murmurs. His voice is almost amused sounding, as if this is a familiar irritation he’s long since given up on rectifying.
To him, maybe it is just that.
I try to move or scream, but darkness rushes in before I can do either.
It’s belated that I realize the toe of a boot is pressed to my windpipe, conveniently resting hard enough to cut off any incoming oxygen.
My hands come up to claw at it, but with no strength left in me, they flop uselessly to my sides.
And then there is nothing at all.
3
ELENA
When I wake, the first thing I notice isn’t the pain in my body or the coppery taste of blood at the back of my throat.
