Chapter 22
Ava
The man behind Matteo was tall—big as fuck, tatted, his skin dark and he was inked from his hands to his neck.He was fucking handsome. He had that presence that not many men had, that made me want to shrink, even though I fought the instinct. He looked at me, then back at Matteo, confusion clear in the way his brows pulled together.
“Who is she?” His voice was deep, smooth, with something dangerous underneath.
Matteo hesitated, like he didn’t want to tell him.
“Luciano’s new wife.”
The air shifted. The man’s entire body went rigid. His nostrils flared, and his eyes went wide.
Something wasn’t right.
“What the fuck, Matteo?” His hand flew toward his waistband. He pulled a gun and pressed it to Matteo’s temple.
Matteo took a step back, his hands half-raised in defense. "Listen, Brooker."
“Fuck listening. If Luciano comes, then Saint’s coming,” Brooker snapped, everything he said sounded lethal, he looked lethal.
“You know we got a partnership. You knew what the fuck you were doing when you called me here to back you up. What the fuck you trying to get me involved in?”
Matteo stammered, his hands trembling as he tried to talk his way out of it. “Brooker, listen. We get rid of them both, and you can take over. No more Saint. No more Luciano. You run the city—”
A gunshot sounded. The noise was so loud my eardrums felt like they’d burst. I jumped, the instinct to run spiked my adrenaline.
Matteo’s body jerked violently. Blood splattered across the floor as he crumpled. There was suddenly a hole in his rib area, just short of his heart. I heard the bullet hit the cement floor right before he did. I didn’t know who screamed louder—me or him.
Aria stepped into plain view, gun raised, her expression cold.
The guy—Brooker—blinked, and lowered his gun then let out a slow breath, shaking his head and throwing up his hands. “I just got back into town,” he muttered. “Didn’t know none of this shit had happened. He offered me half a mill to have his back, but didn’t say who he was going against.” He explained quickly, like he was scared of her.
Aria barely acknowledged him. Instead, she strode forward, grabbed Matteo by the hair, and yanked his head up. He was still alive.
“So you were going to kill my husband when he didn’t have shit to do with your dead ass son?” Her voice was smooth, almost melodious, but there was something vicious curled beneath it and in her eyes. She was a killer. I liked the thought. She continued, berating Matteo. “That makes me think you were coming for me next, because everybody knows damn well I wouldn’t have let that go.”
Matteo’s mouth opened, blood dribbling from his lips, but no words came out.
Movement came from the back.
Matteo’s men were going to kill all of us.
A bunch of men stormed in, guns raised, confusion etched into their faces.
Brooker turned toward them. “Stand down,” he ordered. “Keep Matteo’s men in check out back. Don’t let them enter this fucking warehouse. Kill anybody who tries.”
A literal fucking tear fell from my eyes as I exhaled.
Without a word, they left like soldiers, ready to do their commander’s bidding.
Who in the fuck was Brooker?
Aria crouched beside Matteo, grabbing him and shaking him by his hair. “And you tried to use my cousin,” she said, her grip tightening. “You dirty motherfucker, you really tried to get my kinfolk to kill my husband.”
Then she backhanded him so hard his head lolled to the side. But she righted him, yanking his head back up by his hair. The way he was wheezing, I knew he was hurting.
I don’t know why, but watching her abuse him—watching him bleed—sent a sick thrill through me. I wanted to trade places with her.
Aria wiped her palm on her dress, then turned toward Brooker. “Cut her loose.”
Brooker, without hesitation, pulled out a knife and sliced through my restraints. My arms fell limp at my sides, the pain of circulation returning making me wince.
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my wrists as I stood shakily.
Aria straightened, her eyes locked onto Matteo’s barely conscious body. Then she glanced back at Brooker.
“Tie him to the chair.”
Brooker didn’t argue.
Matteo groaned weakly as Brooker hauled him up and forced him into the seat I had just been tied to. They bound him tight, ropes cutting deep into his skin.
Blood dripped from his nose, his mouth. His breathing was shallow.
Aria took a slow step back.
She pulled out her phone.
She pressed speakerphone. “Saint?”
She frowned. “Saint, it’s handled. We’re fine.”
Static. A garbled noise. Then…The call dropped.
Aria stared at the screen like she could will the signal back. She tried again.
I swallowed hard, my breath uneven. I was confused. I was scared. My body ached, my face ached. My mind was struggling to keep up with what the fuck was going on. I just stood there.
Brooker pulled out his own phone, muttering under his breath when he got the same result. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Just wait,” he said. “They’re coming.”
Aria didn’t look at him.
Her eyes were on Matteo, bound and broken, barely holding on she looked at him like that wasn’t enough, like she wanted his soul too. She took a slow step forward, tilting her head slightly as she studied him.
She moved. Quick when she reached out, grabbed Matteo’s jaw in her hand, digging her long acrylics into his face. A big diamond gleamed on her ring finger, making me glance at my own, which was just as big. In twenty-four hours I had been forced to marry, kidnapped, and abused.
Florida fucking sucked.
Matteo groaned weakly, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at her.
“Stay woke, motherfucker,” she taunted, fingers digging further into his bruised skin.
The sound of tires on gravel made us all pause.
She let Matteo go.
Engines. Multiple. Could be heard—then they all went silent.
Brooker exhaled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Them crazy motherfuckers here.” He shook his head.
Aria stepped away from Matteo, smoothing down the front of her dress like she was getting ready for pictures. A smile curved her lips.
“Brooker, beloved. Could you give me a second alone with Ava?”
I wondered why she wanted me alone. I wouldn’t lie and say my heart rate didn’t spike a little.
She walked over and whispered in my ear, squeezing my shoulder before she walked off toward the front of the warehouse. I didn’t know what to do, so I stood stock still. I couldn’t look at Matteo—his wheezing was getting worse.
The moment she stepped through the open doors, I heard him.
Luciano.
His voice—low and calm, but lethal in the way only his could be.
I exhaled, my whole body trembling.
It was over.