Chapter 61
Sixty-One
“If saving her means walking into hell with my eyes open... then light the fucking match.”–Cyan MacBrady.
At dawn, I step through the double doors of the Towers as a black SUV with dark windows pulls up. My brothers are right behind me. I know they’ve got my back, but there’s a very real chance I may not make it out of this. “Hey... if this doesn’t work—”
“Fuck no, we’re not going there,” Collin cuts me off before I can finish.
“Yeah. We need you, C,” Troy says, his voice low. “You’re the brains of this op.”
“You know our motto,” Gabriel adds with a half-smirk. “No brother left behind.” Both Jake and Thomas nod.
“If something goes wrong…” Johnny pauses, jaw tightening. “We’ll bring you back.” His eyes are harder now. Whatever boyish charm he once had burned away the moment Aria was taken. His gaze locks on mine. “I won’t fail again.”
The SUV door swings open, and Lucilla steps out. “Father’s dispatched me to retrieve you, Cyan,” she declares like it’s a coronation. I stare. It’s impossible that in all the years of accumulating information on Lorenzo, we missed that he has a daughter.
It still doesn’t compute. Lucilla is half Asian, and Lorenzo touches no one outside his precious culture. All his mistresses were Italian. Was she adopted? I scan her face, not seeing the woman who’s been in our lives for the past seven years. The woman we knew was an illusion. This is Lucilla.
“Stop staring, Cyan. Chop-chop. Father’s impatient, and he plans to make a gruesome example of you.” As I step forward, her gaze slides to Thomas. “Hello, husband, Do you see me now?” she purrs.
Those eyes, Lorenzo’s eyes, gleam in her face, sharp and predatory. Her features are his features. Now that the mask is gone, I see it clearly. She’s a wolf that’s been living among us, hidden in plain sight. “How’s Gracie?” she adds sweetly. “It’s a shame Anikina failed to kill her.”
Her voice is pure venom, honeyed and lethal. Thomas doesn’t answer, but I see the tension locked in his jaw, the fire burning in his stare. He’s hanging on by a thread.
Two of Lucilla’s men grab my arms as I move toward her. She steps closer, hands sliding over my chest and down my sides in a mock search for weapons while she holds Thomas’s gaze. Her fingers drift lower. She cups my crotch deliberately, gives it a heft–then smirks at Thomas.
I snarl at her as she steps back. Another man approaches, sweeping a scanner over me. When it reaches my left ankle, my muscles tense. Nothing. No beeping.
I’m shoved toward the backseat. As I’m forced inside, she delivers her final blow to Thomas without even looking at him.
“Oh, and darling,” she says lightly, “in case you haven’t realized, I have to get a divorce. You can keep the kid. She was never mine anyway.” Lucilla slides in beside me, smug as sin. I glance through the rear window as the SUV pulls away, Thomas whose eyes are glued to where Lucilla just stood.
My blood boils. “What the fuck do you mean, Evie isn’t your kid? You were pregnant. Thomas was in the room when you gave birth.”
She rolls her eyes. “Evie is Gracie’s kid.”
What the fuck? “Inconceivable.”
Lucilla shrugs. “There was no way father would let a child of mine be non-Italian.”
“You’re lying. Evie can’t be Gracie’s.”
She rolls her eyes. “Remember when Gracie had that hit and run ‘accident’?” She air quotes, and the grin that spreads across her face is pure poison.
“I helped make that happen by the way. It was then I had her dosed with Ova Boost, forcing her body to produce extra eggs. Then I had them harvested.”
Mercy, this woman makes my actions look fucking saintly. “It wasn’t hard to find a doctor in debt,” she adds. “The things people will do for money. Either way, he was happy to help, even if it was a little illegal.”
“And Thomas?” I grind out.
“I drugged him. Collected the sample the night we had sex. Easy.” She laughs, like she’s recounting a prank. “Poor Thomas never even remembered the night.”
I recall Thomas confessing to me. That he doesn’t remember much that night they fucked. He was so drunk. Which is why Thomas doesn’t drink to this day. Everything clicks into place. “Poor Thomas wouldn’t let his kid grow up without her mother and father under the same roof,” she giggles.
“Evie thinks of you as her mother. Don’t you care about the damage you’ve done to that poor kid?” How did she hide that she’s this deranged? “You’re fucking twisted,” I growl.
She grins, all teeth. “Thanks. You know what the best part is? Watching him raise Gracie’s baby while still pining for her? That was my masterpiece.” She flips her hair back, eyes gleaming.
My fists clench so tightly I feel the tendons strain.
The urge to kill this woman surges through me.
But Aria’s life depends on my staying sharp.
Staying in control. Lucilla leans in, her lips brushing the air near my ear.
“If you had taken me for yourself, Cyan, father wouldn’t have made me use Thomas. ”
I turn slowly, locking eyes with her. “You think this is a game? You messed with my family, my brothers, and that little girl. Soon you’ll find out what I’m capable of.”
Her grin widens. “Promise?” she smirks proudly.
It’s then that I realize something. She wants me to see her as clever.
“You know, Cyan,” she says, casting a sly glance my way.
“Every time I look into your eyes, I see the desperation of a man who’s already lost. You’re about to witness how powerful the Rizzotto bloodline can be. ”
“The great Rizzotto bloodline,” I grin, manic and sharp. “Remember this, your blood, like your brother Leo’s, can spill just as easily, and your next legacy–” I lean in. “Will be a fucking grave marker.”
Lucilla chuckles, leaning in herself, her voice dripping with poison.
“You’re all bark, Cyan. Keep running your mouth, and I might decide Aria not worth keeping around after all.
” The SUV jerks into a sharp turn and comes to a stop.
I glance out the window at a boarded-up gas station.
The faded sign flaps in the wind, half-ripped and sun-bleached.
Is this it? Aria’s been less than twenty minutes away this whole time?
Lucilla turns, all smiles. “We’re here. Out! ”
I step out. My pulse surges the moment we enter; my gut drops. Nothing, no sign of Aria. Only five unknown figures wait in the shadows. Four men and one woman. One of them looks...like me. Fuck. It’s a bait and switch.
“Strip, Cyan,” Lucilla levels her gun at me.
I glare at her. “Really?”
She sends a crooked smile my way. “We can’t afford mistakes. If we’re going to play this game, I need to know everything you’ve got hidden.”
I strip down: shirt, jeans, shoes. I’m left with boxers, socks, and my ring.
“All of it.” I hesitate. She beams. “That’s where it is, isn’t it?
Jake’s good. He wouldn’t rely on a simple tracker.
Too easy to detect. But whatever is in that ring—” She tilts her head.
“Smart. But not smart enough.” Behind her, my doppelg?nger strips out of sweats, runners, and a hoodie. He tosses them at my feet.
“Put these on,” he says, reaching for my clothes. Once dressed, my doppelg?nger turns to leave.
The biggest of the crew addresses him. “Remember, heads down, no eye contact. There aren’t any cameras here, but Jake’s drone is overhead.” Lucilla crouches and pulls open a rusted hatch near the edge of the wall.
The tunnels. Of course. The same tunnels I used to rise in this city are now being used to drag me down. The tracker under my toe will still work... for a while. But the minute I descend far enough underground, it won’t. Think, Cyan, or you’re dead.
“Move.” A shove from behind. “Let’s go.”
Something has to be done, and this is the only thing I can think of–a Hail Mary of my making.
There’s no time for me to second-guess myself.
I whirl and slam my fist into the guy’s nose.
I hear the satisfying crunch of cartilage.
He hits the floor hard, blood gushing from his nose.
I drop with him, grinding the back of his head into the dirty floor.
“Stop Cyan... the rest of you–don’t shoot.
Father will have your balls.” Lucilla’s voice cuts through the space as the men hesitate, guns drawn.
“Cyan, back off.” I don’t let go, pressing my palms down on his bloody face.
“Now Cyan, or Aria gets another nail.” I raise my bloody hands slowly and stand tall.
“He broke my nose,” the bastard whines, as he struggles to rise. “Tie him up,” he says. As he straightens, he struggles to regain his balance.
“No,” Lucilla snaps. “He needs his hands to climb. We’ll restrain him once he’s at the bottom of the ladder. Let’s move. We don’t want to risk our tactic failing–and them coming here and finding clues.”
Lucilla descends first, followed by the man I bloodied. Then me.
At the top of the ladder, I pause. I press both palms down–one on the floor, one on the upper rung–and let the blood smear across the concrete and metal.
It’s all I can do: a single signal, a crimson marker. A whisper to my brothers. Follow the blood.