Tony
Rafael pours himself a glass of Scotch and tilts the bottle my way. I want it so bad my mouth waters, but I shake my head.
He tops up his glass and takes a slow sip. “I won’t rat you out to Lucia,” he taunts.
I glance at my phone. “No point. She’s got a sixth sense now. I think about a drink and she’ll guilt-trip me into the ground. No booze till I’m healed.”
I scroll through the photos until I hit the one that makes my pulse kick. The Black Souls’ leader. The Mad Bull. The piece of shit Noah used as bait to trap me. Seeing his face alone lights a fire in me, makes my broken bones knit together faster. Carlo had a method in mind for my execution, and now, I plan to use the same one on this motherfucker.
I swipe across the screen of my phone again and stop on a photo of Noah. All these years I’ve underestimated him, but I’m done playing nice. I’ll deal with him once and for all. I’ve already fucked his business, his club, and his men—hard.
The next photo, however, makes my eyebrows shoot up. It’s Noah on his motorcycle with a young girl sitting behind him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Everyone knows only a pet is allowed to ride on the back of a rider’s bike, and Noah’s never given any woman that kind of place.
I zoom in on her face. “Who the hell is this?”
Rafael glances at the photo before answering. “She’s the girl Noah killed one of his own riders for, just because the guy looked at her the wrong way.”
Well, well. Now things just got a lot more interesting.
“Right after I pulled you out of that tunnel, the first thing Noah did was hide this girl,” Rafael continues. “He covered her tracks well, but I’ll find her eventually.”
I stare at the girl’s face again. The desire to crucify Noah sends a fresh rush of adrenaline through my veins.
“Spend whatever it takes, Rafael. Find her. Noah is already a dead man… but I really want to see the look on his face when I cut his little pet’s throat right in front of him before I rip his guts out.”
Rafael clicks his tongue. “Consider it done, boss.” Then he nods toward the mess wrapped around me. “So, when are you getting out of all that gift wrap?”
I want to tell him to fuck off, but he’s not wrong. Carlo damn near shattered every bone I’ve got. My right hand’s the only thing still working. Three weeks later and I still need a mountain of painkillers to sleep. At least my face is finally starting to look human again.
First few days I looked so fucked up Antonia wouldn’t come near me. She took one look, burst into tears, and begged Lucia to kick the scary monster out of the house.
I set my phone down. “At least five more weeks.”
“If I were you I’d lose my fucking mind. No booze, no pussy, can’t even take a proper shit. That’d drive any man to the edge.”
“We just came back from the dead, Rafael. I can sit on my ass for a few years and watch my wife and kid be happy. I won’t get bored.”
Rafael raises a brow, clearly surprised, but nods in understanding. He goes quiet for a moment before speaking again.
“You know, you could get back at Carlo for what he did. If word gets out in Italy that Emily betrayed him, he’d become the most disgraced man in the country. Even worse than last time.”
I shake my head. “No. That stays in this room, Rafael.”
“But it’s a perfect chance. Emily means nothing to us.”
“She doesn’t. But she saved our lives. She was smart enough to grab Lucia’s phone and text you. That debt stays paid.”
Rafael scoffs, shaking his head. “Her message was pretty damn clear, though. She didn’t do it for you two—she did it for Antonia. If that loud little blonde hadn’t been in the picture, you’d both be rotting under a pile of rubble right now.”
“Doesn’t matter if we were collateral. We’re breathing. We get to watch our daughter grow up. That’s enough.”
Rafael exhales hard. “For fuck’s sake, just admit it. You rat out Emily and Lucia will rip you a new asshole. That’s the real reason. Because I refuse to believe there’s still a sliver of decency in you that actually gives a shit about the life or death of Carlo’s wife.”
He’s not entirely wrong, but I’m sick of this. “I said my piece, Rafael. Drop it.”
He shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. “Whatever. Just so you know, even if we did spill the truth, it’s not like Carlo would lay a hand on that woman. From what I’ve heard and you’ve seen, infamous Don Carlo would cut off his own balls before he hurt one hair on her head.”
“If that psycho side of his flips, all that love and devotion will go straight to hell, and he’ll tear her apart. Trust me, I know my cousin better than anyone.”
