Chapter 4
Vincenzo
Six weeks earlier
Istand in the golden afternoon light outside the Regal Grand Ballroom, turning a small velvet box over in my hands. Inside is the necklace I commissioned. An eagle and a raven intertwined, their wings forming a heart, wrought in gold.
It cost more than my car.
I snap the box open one more time, studying the delicate necklace.
The jeweler outdid himself. The birds look almost alive, caught mid-flight, bound together in a heart shape.
A symbol of unity between our families. Will Adora Montoni think it’s beautiful, or is she used to diamonds and rubies and think it’s tacky?
I sigh and tuck the box into my jacket pocket. I have no fucking idea what women like.
When I check my watch, I notice I’m forty minutes late. Mom is going to kill me, but the Dervishi ambush is something I didn’t plan for. They jumped me three blocks from my car.
I hold my hands up, examining them. There’s blood under my fingernails, and the cuts on my knuckles are still bleeding slightly.
Great. I’m meeting my future wife with the blood of our enemies on my hands. That’ll make a fantastic first impression.
I glance toward the building’s grand entrance. The Montonis clearly spared no expense. It looks like a wedding venue, not a place for a small engagement party, but what do I know?
My family’s cars are parked in a row. My father’s black Mercedes. My brother’s sedan. Dante’s SUV. But there are no other vehicles.
Are the Montonis late? Or did they grow tired of waiting for me and leave? That would be fitting, given how this day has gone.
I take a deep breath and start toward the entrance. My ribs ache where one of the Dervishis landed a solid kick. I’m going to have spectacular bruises tomorrow.
Focus, Vincenzo.
You’re about to meet your wife.
The thought sends an unexpected flutter of nerves through my stomach.
I’ve seen exactly one photo of Adora Montoni.
A portrait, carefully posed. Golden hair piled high, amber eyes cool and assessing, a Mona Lisa smile that reveals nothing.
She looks like every other mafia princess I’ve ever seen.
Beautiful, untouchable, and bored with the world.
Dad sent it to me three weeks ago. I’ve looked at it maybe a hundred times since, trying to imagine what our life together might be like.
Adora has been raised in luxury and privilege, protected from the ugliness of our world. I’m a killer, and it shows in my eyes and the way I move. The blood I’ve spilled never really washes away.
She’s going to take one look at me and flinch.
But this is what our fathers want. What our families need. Peace, bought with a marriage contract. The Montonis and the Vicis, united at last so we can focus on the real threat in Malus.
The Dervishis.
I climb the steps and push through the entrance doors.
The hallway is empty. No doorman, no greeter, no voices filtering from the ballroom. The silence feels wrong. I walk quickly down the corridor, my footsteps muffled by thick carpet. Oil paintings in gilded frames watch me pass. The double doors to the ballroom are closed.
I push them open.
The smell hits me first. The coppery stench of death.
The golden ballroom, so beautiful from the doorway, is painted in red. Bodies are sprawled across white marble. Pooled blood is spreading. The chandelier is glittering over the carnage below.
“No,” I cry raggedly, and run across the blood-slicked floor.
My father lies on his back, eyes open and empty with bullet holes in his chest. His hand is still reaching for the gun he never drew.
“Dad.” I drop to my knees beside him, pressing my hands against the wounds. His blood is still warm. This just happened.
I see my cousin Dante next, and then Marco. My brother is crumpled beside my mother.
“Mom.” I crawl toward her, leaving bloody handprints on the marble. “Mom, no, no, no.”
Her face is white and bloodless, and her elegant black dress is shredded by bullets. Her hand is reaching toward my sister. Valentina lies a few feet away, her pretty face frozen in terror and pain. She’s wearing the new dress she was so excited about, and it’s soaked in red.
My howl of anguish echoes off the golden walls.
I gather my sister into my arms, rocking her, pressing my face against her hair. She’s so small, and her flesh is growing cold already. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have been here. I should have protected you.”
This was supposed to be a peace offering. An engagement to unite our families.
The Montonis laid a trap and slaughtered us instead.
I lay Valentina down and force myself to stand. They must have mistaken my cousin for me and opened fire. I wonder if they’ve realized their mistake yet, or if they believe they’ve won.
I stand in the center of the massacre, surrounded by my family’s bodies, thinking of the woman in the photograph. Was Adora Montoni part of this? Was she standing here watching while they murdered my family with that indifferent smile on her lips?
Of course she was. She’s a Montoni. This was probably her idea.
And I commissioned her a fucking necklace.
My heart shatters inside me and reforms into something harder and colder.
I drop to my knees once more beside my mother and close her eyes with gentle fingers, and then do the same for my father, my brother, my sister, and my cousin.
“Every single Montoni,” I whisper to them. “I’ll kill them all. I swear it.”
I look at my family, committing every detail to memory. Fuel for the rage that will sustain me.
I stand up, my jaw set and my eyes dry.
The Montonis have no idea what they’ve created.
Present day
My booted feet hit the balcony, and with a flick of my wrist, I detach the rope I used to rappel from the roof above. My breath turns to vapor on the cold air as I coil up the rope and unpack my sniper rifle. I fit the gun together with practiced twists and clicks, muscle memory taking over.
A moment later, I’m gazing down the crosshairs at the Montoni mansion.
Tonight, I’m a predator hunting prey.
I’ve chosen the balcony of this deserted apartment for Don Agnello’s assassination because it’s shadowed and forgotten.
A ghost’s perch. No one will interrupt me here.
But protection from the elements? It has none.
My leather jacket is lined with thick shearling, but freezing wind cuts me to the bone.
My gloved hands clench and flex on the gun grip as I watch for any sign of movement, eager for the moment I take vengeance for my family.
A golden glow fills the window of a second-floor bedroom, and there’s another light on farther along the same floor to the right.
Most of the long windows are doors that open up onto individual balconies.
My eyes narrow as I focus in on those two rooms, wishing I could see more through the gauzy curtains.
There’s only one resident of the Montoni mansion right now, and that’s Agnello Montoni. After the engagement party massacre, he hid his daughter away somewhere, probably flying her to Italy so she’s under the protection of her big brother. Keeping his family safe while mine rots in the ground.
Over the course of several stakeouts, I’ve seen half a dozen staff members coming and going, ordinary people serving a monster.
I need to be sure I have my mark before I fire.
One shot is all I need.
One shot to end this.
Suddenly, a door opens, and my heart rate spikes at a flurry of movement that resolves into two figures.
A tall, stocky man in his fifties or sixties that has to be Don Agnello, and a slender woman wrapped in a small white towel.
He thrusts her into the brutal cold, with the casual cruelty of a man who’s done worse, and slams the balcony door in her face.
What the hell? I jerk my head up from the rifle sights, struggling to process what I’m seeing, and then quickly refocus through the scope.
The young woman is frantic, and banging on the glass door as she cries out to be let back inside.
I can’t make out her individual words, but her body language speaks of desperation.
Her lank hair hangs like it’s wet, plastered to her skull.
Meanwhile, the older man is standing on the other side of the glass, smiling like this is the most fun he’s had all week. Her suffering is his entertainment.
She’s going to freeze to death on a night like this, and that realization sends a spark of unwelcome sympathy through me.
Agnello Montoni and a younger lover? I watch the woman cry for mercy, and I wonder if the only thing the Montonis know how to do is dispense suffering. She doubles over and screams, the sound so agonized and raw that it pierces even my heart.
The man at the glass grins and vanishes into the warmth of the mansion.
I growl in frustration as I realize that I didn’t take the shot.
I may have missed my chance to put a bullet in Don Agnello.
For several minutes, I scour every window in the mansion, hunting for any sign of him.
Eventually, I turn my attention back to the woman and watch her through my scope. She’s crouched down now and has her arms wrapped around her body while her teeth chatter.
Even from here, I can see she’s turning blue as hypothermia sets in. Another twenty minutes, and she’ll lose consciousness. An hour, and she’ll be dead.
I track her movements, cataloging details about her. Blonde hair plastered to her face. Delicate features. Large amber eyes. Something about her is familiar.
Then the world tips on its axis as recognition hits me like a physical blow.
That’s doe. Jane Doe from last night.