Chapter Three
Lilianna Genovese
It took three times as long as usual, but Callum finally fell asleep in my arms.
I took great care to lay him in the full-sized bed that we’d be sharing this evening. I covered his small body with the comforter, and he sleepily pulled it under his chin as his breathing remained rhythmic and steady.
Today had been exhausting for all of us, and I’d soon follow him to bed.
But I had a few things to discuss with Matteo first.
As I eased from the room silently and clicked the door shut behind me, I wiped my dry eyes with the back of my hand. They felt like sandpaper. I tried blinking it away, but nothing could rehydrate them after all the tears I’d shed today.
Memories pelted me more quickly than I could process them. Everything I saw reminded me of something we’d experienced together as children and teenagers. I noted a bottle of Crown Royal Blackberry on the bottom shelf of Matteo’s collection and remembered the first shot I’d taken with my brother.
“Breathe out before taking the shot. Don’t inhale first, or you’ll feel it all the way down,” he’d insisted.
I’d done it, and he gave me a smile and a fist bump.
I could remember the pride in his eyes.
He always had so much pride in his eyes when he looked at me. I’d never done anything wrong in his eyes. My chest caved in at the memory of the way he had loved me. He had loved me more than anyone else ever had, and my chest felt hollow as I realized I’d never experienced that love again.
I found Matteo sitting in a large kitchen with white countertops and a marble backsplash. His entire apartment had been decorated with elegance and an eye for design. I wouldn’t have expected this level of taste from him.
The moment I strode into the room, his attention fixed on me, and I froze. “Is he asleep?” he asked.
“For now.” I took a small step forward as I noticed the other men in the room. One of them looked familiar, and I recognized him as another friend of Silas’s—Anthony. The third man was entirely unfamiliar, and he didn’t bother glancing up from the computer screen at my presence. He didn’t skip a beat as his fingers moved expertly across the keyboard.
“We have a lot to discuss,” Matteo said, gesturing to a seat beside Anthony. I eased forward slowly. “This is Anthony, my second-hand man. He takes care of everything that I don’t have time for. I’m sure you’ve met him in the past. He worked closely with Silas, too.”
Silas.
I didn’t want to think about him right now. Not until I could compartmentalize everything that had happened today.
“And Marcus is my computer expert,” Matteo continued. “He takes care of any hacking or digital tracking needs.”
I nodded, looking between all of them. But my mind was everywhere else. I couldn’t bring myself to focus on anything but the memories I’d shared with Silas growing up. I couldn’t get over all the memories we should have had. All I wanted was for him to meet my son. I wouldn’t have been in New York long, but he would have at least met him. Maybe Silas would have taken trips to Italy for birthdays or holidays.
But all of those dreams had died today.
I’d left, and Silas had never even met him.
“What can I do?” I finally asked, looking between the men.
I couldn’t let them take away everything from me without repercussions. My father had hurt and maimed a lot of people in this life, but I’d still grieve him. He was my father, after all. But the weight of Silas’s death sat heavier on my heart. It consumed everything within me and left no room for another grief.
Matteo made his way across the kitchen and placed a hand on my back, leading me deeper into the room. He smelled like he’d washed the blood from his skin. The rich scent of musk and masculinity wafted up to my nostrils and sent shivers down my spine.
I recognized that scent.
It had clung to my skin all those years ago after our night together.
“There’s nothing you can do right now,” he admitted.
“What are you doing then? I need to help.”
The gel from his hair had been washed away, and he had placed it in a messy knot at the nape of his neck. As he shook his head, a small tendril fell in front of his face, and I had the immediate urge to push it away.
“We’re assessing the damage right now,” he said gruffly. “I went back to retrieve their bodies, but they weren’t there. This entire attack was thought out and planned extensively. No bodies. No shell casings. Nothing.”
My heart sank, and it took everything to hold back tears. They were gone, and I couldn’t even mourn over their bodies. How could I plan a funeral without their bodies? How could someone be so cruel?
The man in front of the computer chipped in. “I can confirm that. It looks like it was a coordinated attack. Any business endeavor or building that had the Genovese name on it was raided. It was a well-planned strike.”
I gasped. “Why?”
“We don’t know,” Matteo added.
“We do,” Anthony corrected, and Matteo shot him a glare. “Matteo, the Russians have wanted Alessio dead for years. Taking out Alessio, Silas, and all of the businesses means something, and we all know it. He wanted the territory, and this was the way to do it. Kill all the heirs, and he’d become the undisputed boss.”
Everyone in the room went silent as they looked at me. It took a long moment for me to understand the implications of that statement.
Silas was the only male heir, but I was an heir, too.
Now that I was back in New York City, I’d be a threat.
“I’m going to kill them before they have a chance to finish what they planned,” Matteo assured me. “They targeted businesses that we shared, too. They shot at me and made an attempt on my life.”
Marcus nodded. “But they didn’t target any of your individual holdings. It was strictly a target on the Genovese family.”
He released the hand that had been on my back and leaned on the island in the kitchen. His forearms strained, bulging from the weight he put on them. It was such a minor thing, but I couldn’t look away.
I’d never been able to look away from him.
“If the Russians are getting handsy with territory, why wouldn’t they go after you, too?” I asked.
Matteo’s jaw ticked. “I want to say it’s because I have a stronger force behind me. I have more men, more assets, and more alliances. Taking me down wouldn’t be as simple as taking down your family, but judging by the coup they just pulled off, they could have done it. Did your father have a personal vendetta against Vlad that you know of?”
I shook my head. “Nothing personal. It’s all business to them. That’s all it’s ever been.”
Even the marriage had been business. I wondered, briefly, if I would have died three years ago if I would have gone through with the marriage to Vlad’s son. Had this been the plan all along? Did they plan on getting together our entire family at a wedding only to execute us all?
Would I have been able to save him if I had stayed?
“Do you have a flight back home planned?” Matteo asked. “After tonight, things are going to get messy.”
“I did,” I admitted. “But I’m not going anywhere until the Petrovs pay for what they did to my family.”
“It’s going to be dangerous.”
I could tell he planned to say more, but I cut him off. “And I owe it to Silas to do this. I—I left him three years ago, and he never even got to meet his nephew. I know I hurt him by leaving, and I did it anyway. I got out of the mafia life without him, and he died because I didn’t bring him with me.”
The guilt ravaged me, but I didn’t let it consume everything. I couldn’t blame myself for something that someone else did to him. I wouldn’t blame myself.
“I’m here to stay until they’re dead. After that, I’ll go back home. I have to stay for Silas.”
Matteo’s eyes danced with interest as he nodded. “While Marcus looks for any more information up here, there is something we can do in the meantime.”
I straightened, forcing my grief down deep enough that it wouldn’t interfere with my vengeance. “What?”
A smirk pulled at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. An impermeable darkness that came from a life of crime filled his eyes. “I have two men in the cellar who are going to give us the information we need.”
I knew exactly what that meant. I had sat through my father questioning people a handful of times as a child and young teenager, and it had always made me uneasy. I always swore I’d never take part in it. I had spent the past three years earning a living as a private investigator and finding people’s secrets through observation rather than torture.
I got really, really good at it.
But these were the men who killed my family.
I nodded. “Take me down there.”
Anthony led, and Matteo walked at my side as we moved through the main living area and toward an open hatch in the floor. I glanced up at Matteo and found him walking confidently at my side. Anthony, too, seemed entirely unfazed as we made our way down the stairs.
Multiple bottles of different types of alcohol sat on shelves around the walls. It looked like primarily whiskey bottles, coated with a fine layer of dust. In front of them stood a long shelf holding dozens of wine bottles. My father had something similar in a cellar at his house.
Anthony led us toward the back of the room and stopped before two men, tied to chairs with burlap sacks over their heads. It looked like someone had already begun the interrogation, judging by the blood that leaked from cuts in their skin. They’d both been stripped of anything but their boxers, clearly exposing the expanse of injuries; small cuts and developing bruises. Toes that went in all different directions. Gashes in the most sensitive parts of their bodies.
“Where were we?” Anthony asked, taking a step forward and pulling the cover from the smallest man’s face.
I took a small step back, but it was all the reaction I’d let show.
He’d been the man to almost kill us.
He’d been the one to point a gun at my two-year-old, and now he sat with a bullet wound to the belly, stuffed full of gauze. It had stopped the bleeding, but I had no doubt an infection would soon take hold.
“If I talk, they’ll kill me.”
“If you don’t, we will. It only takes one to deliver a message. Which of you will be the first to break?” Anthony kicked over his chair, and he fell back with a hoarse bark of pain. The packed bullet wound trickled blood. “One of you will have a quick death, and the other will be here for a few days.”
“Weeks,” Matteo corrected, stepping forward and weaving his fingers together behind his back. He couldn’t have looked more composed. “I don’t take the death of my alliances lightly.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” the larger man said from beneath the mask.
“But it has everything to do with her.”
Matteo looked over his shoulder at me as Anthony lifted the hood off the second man. This one didn’t look familiar.
I know Matteo drew attention to me for a reason. These men wouldn’t survive this, so revealing my lineage to them wouldn’t affect me. Hopefully, it would loosen their tongues. If they had this much to say about me, maybe having me in their presence would help reveal something.
“You killed my brother and father,” I said, stepping forward. “And I can’t wait to repay the favor.”
I reached for a cart of rusted tools. It was eerily similar to the one my father had, and I refrained from shuddering. I didn’t like this. I didn’t want to torture them, but for Silas? I’d do whatever was necessary.
“You’re the one the boss told us about?”
I strode toward him, and Anthony lifted up the chair. I didn’t let the fear in the man’s eyes draw up a reaction from me. I couldn’t.
“Which one of you is going to be helpful?” I asked.
When neither answered, I gripped the hammer more tightly in my fist. Was it trembling?
Matteo glanced at me once before slamming his fist into the largest man’s jaw. He walked to the other and did the same before turning back to me and giving me a softer look. He could see my struggle with this. I would do it. I had to. I’d been raised to do this, but… he saw the truth. He saw that I wasn’t as hardened as he and my brother had been.
He grabbed the hammer I held and turned back to them.
“I’ll talk,” the man who had nearly killed me said. His eyes darted from Matteo to me, as if weighing which of us would strike first. His fingers twitched as he remembered what had already been done to him.
“What do you have to say?”
“He didn’t target you, Costello. He heard that all the Genoveses would be at the wedding—even the girl. It’s why he attacked. Alessio didn’t have enough men to guard his assets, and we knew it. It was our best shot at taking out the whole bloodline. That way, the boss could have everything for himself.”
“He couldn’t have known I’d be there,” I remarked.
“The kid told Aelita, and she told the boss.”
Silas had been excited enough to talk about my return?
“What else do you know?” Matteo asked.
He stumbled over his words and shook his head. “There’s nothing more to tell.”
The second man whispered something under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “Just kill us,” he begged. “If we go back now…Vlad will skin us alive.”
“Tempting,” Matteo said, clicking his tongue. “Maybe I’ll do something similar.”
“He wants you out of the picture, too,” the unrecognizable man said, staring directly at me.
“I gathered that,” I replied dryly.
“Are we going to get anything else useful out of either of you?” Matteo asked. They looked at one another, and Matteo chuckled under his breath and looked at Anthony. “You get back to work on them, and let me know if they have anything else worth sharing.”
I wondered what had been done before we arrived to loosen their tongues, but I didn’t ask. I didn’t even bother looking back as Matteo escorted me out of the room, and one of them screamed behind me.
They knew the plan to kill my brother, and neither had stopped it.
They deserved this.