27. Pietro
PIETRO
MINE EVEN IF IT KILLS YOU
A s I crash through the door, cold air steals my breath. The Hummer pulls up, and I bolt toward it, heart pounding, Amara on my mind.
That’s when I hear it—a strange whizz just past my ear. A second follows, and I spot the bullet hole in the car beside me.
Fuck. I’m in trouble.
More bullets fly, sharp pings echoing around me as they ricochet off metal. I duck, adrenaline crashing through me.
I feel a burning pinch on my arm before I dive into the Hummer, just as another shot cracks through the air. My guard’s already behind the wheel, engine rumbling, eyes sharp.
“Go!” I bark. I pull myself into the seat and grab the moving door, slamming it behind me. Tires screech as we peel away from the curb, bullets still flying, the city blurring past. My heart’s racing—but all I can think about is Amara.
Where the hell is she?
Who has a beef with us?
And why do they want me dead?
This can only mean one thing.
We’re at war.
I glance at Joseph. “Good timing,” I huff .
“I headed here immediately, what the fuck is going on?” He looks at me as the vehicle whines loudly as he pushes the gas. I manage to close my door, and Joseph is busy looking in the mirrors to see if we’re being followed.
I pull a gun from the glove box. Then, I reach for my phone and send a text to Matteo to arrange for a doctor to be at the safe house we keep on Long Island.
With any luck, we can get Amara and Sarah out of the apartment alive.
Matteo confirms my request. It’s time to tell him the bad news.
Someone shot at me. We’re at war.
Fuck!
I know my brother will have a plan. We’ll regroup, we’ll persevere, and we’ll get through this. We’re Borrellis.
But first, I have to get to Amara and make sure she’s safe.
The minutes move at a glacial pace, streetlights blur by in streaks of gold and white, and the city rushes by in slow motion—a chaotic smear as I lean forward in my seat. My knee bounces with impatience. My eyes are scanning the horizon before I twist in my seat to look out the back window.
“We’re good so far. But there might be a welcoming party at Amara’s apartment,” Joseph says as he cruises through streets that are open at this hour of night.
“Faster, Joseph.” My voice is tight. My throat is raw with something I don’t want to name.
Fear.
I watch his hands tighten around the wheel. He slams the gas, and we’re thrown back in our seats. His expression hardens, silent fury etched into every line of his face as his jaw tightens. He weaves around slow-moving cars in traffic like a bullet slicing through flesh.
“You want to end up wrapped around a pole?” he growls.
“I want to get to Amara as quickly as possible.” I also don’t want time to think of what might have happened to her and what might still occur before I reach her. Sarah’s message was cryptic.
He exhales sharply but pushes the gas harder. The tires screech as we take a turn too fast, and the back end of the SUV skids before catching the road again.
And that’s when the sky opens, and a freak freezing rain pelts us. The roads might have black ice, as if nature is working against me, against us.
The whoosh of the wipers is a comforting sound, methodical and steady. I take a deep breath.
My phone vibrates in my hand. My pulse races as I glance down, and I see Matteo’s name.
Where are you?
I don’t waste time with formalities.
I was shot at. Heading to pick up Amara at her apartment. Need men to extract us and take us to the safe house. Sara needs protection, too.
Three dots appear instantly, and I hold my breath as my brother is typing.
I have men in the area. I’ll meet you at the safe house in Long Island. I’ll put more guards on you.
Good. We’ll need them.
My relief is short-lived. I know Matteo—he’ll take care of things. But this isn’t just about me anymore.
Amara. The baby.
I squeeze my eyes shut as my mind slips over the edge, and worry consumes me. Is she okay? Is the baby okay?
What the hell happened to her? I can’t go down the rabbit hole of what my life would be without her in it.
I know her father. I know the kind of man he is—the kind who would rather break his daughter than let her defy him. My stomach clenches as I picture his hands on her, the same hands that have dealt violence to men who dared to cross him.
I swear, if he hurt her—if he touched her?—
The roar in my head is deafening.
This is more than a hit. The gunfire was meant for me, but this is a part of a larger picture, and I’m clueless as to why. The Serbs are warring with the Moretti’s. How did we get into the mix?
Sure, I’m with Moretti’s daughter.
And then it dawns on me. The Serbs must want her, and if they know about the baby, we’re doomed. Whoever has control of my baby will have the key to the city.
Because our baby means the Morettis and Borrellis have to make peace. And if we don’t have Amara and the baby, those who do will call the shots. We’d be helpless to retaliate as they chip away at our territories and supply chains. We’d be picked apart like vultures picking at roadkill.
Why did I not think of this before all hell broke out?
Before I can contemplate the enormity of my thoughts, Joseph’s voice cuts through the storm that’s raging in my head.
“Your brothers will help.” His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, scanning for tails. “This has to be more than just a warning. Someone might want you out of the picture entirely.”
I grit my teeth. “They can fucking try.”
Another turn, another stretch of road eaten by the speed of the car.
“We need answers,” Joseph mutters, gripping the wheel hard.
And I’m sure Amara has them, but I say, “We’ll get them.”
But my thoughts are tangled, and they circle in my head like wolves on a hunt.
She left. She ran. Did she think I wouldn’t come after her?
Did she think I wouldn’t tear this city apart to find her?
The safe house comes to mind—it’s only one of many Matteo has hidden under shell corporations and fictitious names.
It’s isolated and sitting right on the water.
That makes it harder to breach, and harder for anyone to sneak up unnoticed.
But it also means we’ll be trapped if someone does come. A fortress and a prison, all in one.
None of that matters.
Not until I see her.
Not until I know she’s breathing, and that she’s safe.
And then, she’s going to tell me everything—even if I have to rip it from her sassy lips. Doesn’t she know that I will tear apart the entire city to find her?