Chapter 31
ADRIANA
I open my eyes a crack, recoiling at the bright fluorescent lightbulb hanging over me. I shut them quickly, the sharp, stinging sensation making me wince. My mouth is dry, like someone shoveled a bucket of sand into it, and there’s a strange chemical taste lingering on my tongue.
A groan slips through my lips as my eyes float open again.
I look around at the stark concrete walls and the floor stained with God only knows what.
I try to move, shifting against the back of the hard metal chair, but my body is too tired to cooperate.
My brain sends the signal, but nothing happens. That scares me more than anything else.
Where the hell am I?
My head pounds with relentless force and my stomach keeps threatening to revolt. When I try to lift my head, the room tilts and I have to close my eyes again to keep from throwing up.
Okay. Okay. Breathe.
I try again, slower this time, and blink until things start to come into focus.
The place looks like a warehouse. It’s got high ceilings and rusted beams that run across the top of the space.
The stench of rotting fish makes my stomach roil again.
I press my lips tightly together and look around.
The only light comes from the bulb. There are no windows, just a big roll-up door on one end and a regular door on the other.
I struggle to move again, a frustrated cry piercing the air. Zip ties. Son of a bitch. My hands are behind my back, my ankles secured to the legs, and every time I tug away from the chair, the damn plastic cuts deeper into my skin.
Two men stand near the roll-up door, talking quietly. It takes my foggy brain a second to register the language.
Russian.
And like a tsunami, the violent rush of memories assaults my mind. My heart beats wildly as images wallpaper my mind.
The gunshot echoing in my ears. Riccardo’s head blown in half.
Tears sting my eyes, fear bubbling in my chest.
Vincenzo killed Riccardo. Vincenzo drugged me. Zio Vinnie, the man who’d been at my father’s side since before I was born, handed me over to the goddamn Russians.
I trusted him. My whole family trusted him. He stood in that hospital room holding my mother’s hand while my father lay in a coma, and the whole time it was him who put him there.
My vision goes all fuzzy again. I breathe through the nausea until it passes.
When I open my eyes, Vincenzo walks toward me.
“The drug was supposed to keep you asleep for longer.” He almost sounds impressed. “But that’s not surprising. You always were a stubborn one.”
“Untie me.” My voice comes out rough and thick, barely recognizable even to me.
“I can’t do that.” He pulls up a chair and sinks into it. His eyes are dark and heavy with exhaustion as he stares at his phone.
“Why?” I manage. “You already told me about my father and about Riccardo. But this? Handing me over to the Kozlovs? Tell me why you’re doing it.”
“Because it’s the only play left.” He leans back against the chair.
“When Eamon approached me, it was supposed to be a clean transfer of power. Your father dies at the gala. You refuse to take over because everyone knew you never wanted this. The organization folds into a new alliance, and I finally get what I deserve. What your father never gave me.”
“But my father didn’t die.”
“No. And then you surprised everyone.” A flicker of respect glows in his eyes. “You stepped up, convinced the capos you belonged in this role, and turned out to be exactly the leader your father always said you could be.”
“So this is punishment? Because I didn’t fail?”
“This is adaptation.” He glances toward the door. “Eamon’s son was supposed to gain your trust and position himself to take control. Instead, he fell in love with you.”
My chest tightens at the words. Because it’s true. Lochlan fell in love with me. And I fell in love with him. Against every instinct.
And he was keeping secrets the whole time.
“Lochlan…” I say, my throat tight, knotted with tears that I refuse to let flow.
“Loves you. As far as I can tell, anyway.” Vincenzo shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter now.”
Before I can respond, the door at the far end of the space opens, and Eamon Molloy walks in like he owns the place.
He looks exactly like he did this morning when he stood in Lochlan’s office and tried to blackmail his own son. The memory makes my stomach flip and clench. Or maybe that’s still the drugs.
“Adriana.” He stops a few feet away, his hands behind his back. “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”
“I wish you’d drop dead,” I sneer.
“Charming.” He glances at Vincenzo. “Any issues?”
“She woke up early. But no, we haven’t had issues.”
Eamon turns back to me with his cold, calculating eyes. They’re nothing like Lochlan’s. It’s almost impossible to believe they actually share DNA.
“I want you to understand something,” he says. “None of this had to happen. If you had stepped aside and let Lochlan and me handle things while you enjoyed your position, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Are you fucking insane? You really expected me to hand over my family’s empire?”
“I expected you to know your place,” he says, his voice patient, like I’m slow on the uptake and he’s being generous by explaining the details of his sick and twisted plan.
“Women in your position have two options. Fight against reality and lose everything. Or accept it, enjoy the protection, and let the people who understand this world handle things.”
I almost laugh. Almost. “You mean I should have let you steal what my father built.”
“I mean you should have let me save it.” His eyes crackle into blue ice. “Francesco is a relic. The old ways are dying. The Kozlov Bratva understands that. Together, we’ll control the eastern seaboard within five years.”
“You sold out my father to the Russians.”
“No, I formed an alliance.” He paces in front of me. Each step is slow and deliberate, like he’s a professor giving a lecture. “They have resources neither the Molloys nor DiMichelis could match alone. This is the future, Adriana. You just refused to see it. So now you won’t.”
“And what do you get out of this whole alliance?”
“What I’ve always wanted. Power. Legacy.
” He stops, the corners of his lips curling into a sinister smile.
“You think this is over because your father woke up? Francesco opening his eyes doesn’t change anything.
He’s weak and vulnerable, just like he was before the gala.
And he’ll be dealt with when the time is right. ”
The casual way he says it… like my father’s life is just an item to be ticked off on a to-do list… makes me want to scream and kick in his smug ass face.
“Lochlan will never go along with this.”
“Lochlan doesn’t have a choice.” His voice turns glacial. “He married you. And under that contract, he controls half of the DiMicheli assets. Once you’re out of the equation, that half falls under my direction.”
Out of the equation. Such a clean way to say it.
“So you’re going to kill me.”
“I’m going to do what’s necessary. It’s just business, Adriana. Nothing personal.” He turns to Vincenzo. “Speaking of business. We need to discuss the transition plans.”
Vincenzo straightens in his chair, his eyes brightening in anticipation of his new role and the spoils he’s about to collect.
“I’ve reached out to a few of the capos.
They’re on board with the new direction and are anxious to start expanding their reach.
We need to come up with a plan to handle the rest of the group, so we should talk about—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Eamon says, cutting him off.
Vincenzo frowns. “What do you mean? The way we present this change is important if we want to make sure we have everyone’s support.”
“Your services are no longer required.” Eamon’s voice is almost gentle, but the meaning of his words bites into my brain. “You’ve been very useful, Vincenzo. Truly. The information, the access… none of this would have been possible without you.”
“We had an arrangement.” Vincenzo stands up, a red flush creeping into his face. His eyes dart left and right and he tugs at his tie. “I delivered everything I promised. The DiMicheli organization, Adriana, all of it.”
“You did. And I’m grateful.” Then Eamon reaches into his jacket and pulls out a black gun.
Vincenzo stumbles backward into a chair, shock seeping into his lined face. “Eamon—”
“You betrayed Francesco. A man who trusted you for over fifty years. He treated you like family. He gave you everything, and all you did was bitch and moan about how you never got what you were worth, what you deserved.” Eamon raises the weapon, his hand perfectly steady.
“If you’ll betray him for the right price, you’ll betray me the moment something better comes along. ”
“No, you’re wrong.” Vincenzo’s hands fly up as if he can block the shot that’s about to be fired. “I swear, I would never—”
“You would. Given the right circumstances, you absolutely would. It’s just your selfish, greedy nature.” His finger slides over the trigger. “I have to protect my own interests now. And those don’t include you.”
“Wait—”
The gunshot echoes through the warehouse, reverberating between my ears.
Vincenzo drops like a bag of cement. Blood pools under him, seeping into the concrete.
I can’t look away, shivering uncontrollably, teeth clattering. Bile shoots up the back of my throat. The man who betrayed my father, who handed me to the wolves, is dead. One second he’s standing; the next he’s crumpled on the floor with a gaping hole in his chest.
My insides plunge into a deep freeze, my heart stuttering as my brain replays Eamon’s caustic words.
Eamon tucks the gun away and straightens his cuffs. He shows zero remorse, the fucking sociopath that he is.
“Now then.” He checks his watch. “The Kozlovs will be here shortly to transport you somewhere more secure.”
“Lochlan will come for me.” I wiggle against the zip ties. “You won’t get away with this.”
“Oh, I’m counting on some drama. My son is sentimental. It’s his greatest weakness. He’ll walk right into whatever trap I set, and then I’ll have both of you exactly where I need you.”
He crosses over to where the Russian guards stand and speaks to them quietly. One pulls out a phone and says something in rapid Russian. Eamon checks his phone, types something, and puts it away.
He’s not leaving. He’s waiting. For the Kozlovs. For Lochlan to walk into his trap. For everything to fall into place. Sweat beads pop up along my prickled skin.
I think about what he said. That Lochlan’s love for me is a weakness. That he’ll come no matter what.
He’s right. Lochlan will come. Even knowing it could be a trap. Even after everything that happened this morning. Because that’s who he is.
Part of me is still furious at him. I’m still reeling from the betrayal of finding out he knew about the gala attack.
But another part… the part I’ve been trying to ignore…
knows that what we had wasn’t fake. The way he’d look at me and hold me, the way he’d tell me over and over how incredible and amazing I am, how I was the best thing that had ever happened to him… it was all so very real.
He lied about one thing, and it was a terrible thing. But Eamon has been lying about everything, to everyone, for years. His own sons don’t even know what a disgusting piece of shit he really is.
So I need to find a way out of this before Lochlan gets himself killed trying to save me. Because even though he betrayed me, he doesn’t deserve to die over it.
My mind races. I can’t move. And Eamon and the Russians are close enough to shoot me dead if they think I have a shot at escaping. Panic floods my insides. I’m helpless. Powerless.
I strain my ears, the sound of vehicles approaching makes my heart sink.
No. No, no, no!
Eamon smooths his jacket. “Right on time.”
One of the guards barks something out.
Eamon’s expression twists. “What?”
He says it again, his voice rising. The second guard moves to the window.
The vehicles aren’t slowing down.
Eamon’s jaw tightens. “Get her to the back. Now.”
The guards move toward me, but they’re too slow.
Right outside, gunfire erupts into the air, so loud, it scrambles my brain. Angry Russian voices follow. Tires squeal, glass shatters, metal crushes against the warehouse door. The guards jump back and dive to the floor, their guns in position to shoot at the intruders.
Tears slip down the sides of my face, a choked sob exploding out of my chest.
Because through it all is a voice I’d know anywhere.
Lochlan.