Chapter 32
JENNA
“Oh… shit.”
I groan, pain being the first thing I register lancing from my jaw to the base of my skull.
The second is movement, a low-grade vibration humming through padded leather, the sound of asphalt beneath tires.
I blink, vision swimming, until overhead lights sharpen into focus.
The scent of new-car leather mixes with the copper tang of blood in my mouth.
I shift, testing my limbs. My wrists are zip-tied behind me, ankles cinched with more plastic. They left my dress on, thankfully, but the belt has ridden up, pinning fabric beneath my ribs. Breathing hurts. Everything hurts.
A man the size of a vending machine sits to my right. He’s the one who cold-cocked me; the bruise blooming across his knuckles confirms it. Another enforcer, tall, hawk-nosed, sits to my left, pressing a .45 into his thigh, grinning at me like he’s ready to use it at any moment.
In the passenger seat is Nico Agosti.
The sight of him yanks me into complete consciousness. Dead, dark eyes, slicked-back hair, impeccable suit in a shade that might as well be called “blood-money burgundy.” He’s half-turned, forearm draped over the seatback, watching me like a trophy horse he hasn’t mounted yet.
“Sleeping Beauty opens her eyes,” he says. “Welcome back.”
My heartbeat spikes, but I grind it down. Panic never saves anyone. Staying calm and gaining information does. I lick my split lip, grimacing as I taste copper. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace scenic,” he replies, gaze dipping to my neckline before flicking to the streetlights flashing past. “You’re gonna love the view.”
The gorilla on my right snorts. “Boss, she’s a feisty one. Split your lip good.”
I allow myself a fractional smile. That at least feels like a small victory. His smug face now sports a partial red handprint and a split lip. I hope it stings.
“I went easy on him,” I mutter.
Hawk-nose elbows me hard in the ribs. My mouth opens as my breath explodes out of me, but I refuse to make a sound. Not a chance I’m going to give Nico the satisfaction of making my suffering obvious.
Nico studies me. “You still have bark, even muzzled. Interesting.”
I lean forward as far as the restraints allow. “You should worry less about my bark and more about Abram’s bite. Release me now and maybe he won’t remove your spine through your throat.”
His grin widens, humorless. “Who’s to say your lover even survived our little dinner interruption?”
My stomach twists. “He’s alive. You have no reason not to kill me if he wasn’t.”
Saying it makes it true. It has to be true.
“Is he?” Nico shrugs with theatrical indifference. “I fired, the bullet flew. Maybe I missed. Maybe I didn’t.”
Anger explodes within. I kick sideways, raking my bound wrists across Hawk-nose’s lap, catching soft tissue. He yelps, the pistol clattering to the floor mat.
Hands clamp my shoulders, slamming me backward. The vending machine drives a fist into my sternum. All the air abandons me in one whoosh, my vision going tunnel-dark. Tears sting my eyes, hot and humiliating.
“That’s enough,” Nico says, voice flat, lifeless. “We don’t damage the merchandise—yet.”
Merchandise. I want to vomit.
The SUV banks off the highway onto a narrower road. No more neon, just desert darkness swallowing the windows. My brain catalogs landmarks through the tinted glass—rare street signs, the silhouette of a faux-Tuscan gate. It looks like the Lake Las Vegas community.
Minutes pass. My ribs ache, and my wrists and ankles burn from the ties. Nico scrolls through his phone, casual as a commuter. Then he peers over the seat again, licking dried blood from his lip.
“So, my pet,” he drawls, “how long have you been servicing Abram?”
“None of your goddamn business, sleazeball.”
He doesn’t react. “I bet you’re very good at it. It’s easy to imagine how you could make a man very, very happy with those lips of yours. Hell, I’m imagining it right now.”
“You fucking—”
Hawk-nose raises his gun, but Nico waves him down, eyes bright with cruel delight. “Such spirit. I respect that. But spirit doesn’t change facts. Your Bratva prince walked straight into a trap. That makes you leverage. If he obeys, perhaps you’ll live. Perhaps.”
My throat constricts. Protect the baby. “What do you want?”
“Recognition. Respect.” Nico’s smile is boyish, chilling. “First meeting tomorrow, he treats me as an equal. Second meeting, he treats me as an heir, signing over all rights to everything he has upon his death. Third, well, we’ll see if there even is a third.”
I let out a brittle laugh. “You think killing Abram will get you Vegas? His sisters alone will feed you your liver.”
He shrugs. “Women have their place. Especially widows needing comfort.”
Disgust curdles my stomach. “Your father’s still alive.”
“For now,” he says breezily, “but cancer doesn’t respect hierarchy.”
I swallow hard, willing my voice not to shake. “You really think this ends with you on a throne?”
Nico turns, his face faintly lit by the glow of the dash. “Everything ends, my dear. Even the reign of kings.”
The SUV rolls to a stop. A tall iron gate creaks open ahead, darkness yawning like a mouth ready to swallow me whole.
He glances back again. “Be grateful. Most never get to witness history being rewritten.”
I lift my chin in defiance. “You’re the only history I see.”
He laughs humorlessly. “Save your strength, bella. The night is just beginning.”
The SUV rumbles on. And for the first time since this insanity started, I find myself wondering if I’m going to get out of this alive.