Caterina
I’m shaking, my emotions running haywire, adrenaline still coursing through my veins from my ruined orgasm and the exhaustive truth-telling.
I’ve never shared what happened to my brother with anyone before. Not even my father knows, because when I approached Nino, he begged me not to say a thing. Having failed him in the past, I sure wasn’t going to go against his wishes.
It took telling Connor my deepest secret to truly pinpoint when the Nino I grew up with started to change. That’s when his behavior toward me became angrier and meaner.
By admitting that I knew about the abuse, I severed our relationship. The fracture had less to do with what I did and more to do with how he must think I see him now.
In hindsight, I wonder what my point was.
Who did that confession help? Was I trying to assuage my own guilt? In doing so, had I created a permanent wedge between my brother and me?
It’s incredible how selfish humans are, how we’re wired for self-preservation. Now I understand that this was the switch that flipped the lights off on our kinship. It’s why Nino wants me out. He can’t stand that I know his darkest truth. Or the sight of my face.
I’m a reminder of the worst time in his life.
The thoughts swirl in my mind, my limbs tingling. I follow Connor into the inky recesses of this warehouse, hoping he’ll lead me to some sort of salvation.
One of his hands cups mine as we walk, the other wrapped carefully around a handgun.
Connor guides me into a dark, crowded space.
Beneath a bright fluorescent light, Verone and Danny sit chained to chairs.
My stomach drops straight down to my toes.
After the shock settles—thank God Danny’s alive—I cross my arms over my breasts, keenly aware of my attire. The scent of urine soaks the air. I’m sure these men didn’t get scheduled bathroom breaks like I did.
Connor withdraws a second handgun from the waistband of his pants and presses the grip into my palm.
Then he strolls over to Danny.
The gun’s heavy and solid. I hold it with both hands, my trembling fingers weak from dehydration, exhaustion, and the emotional whirlwind of this entire ordeal.
A knot forms in my mostly empty stomach. I don’t want to do what he has planned, but I know I have no choice. “Connor, please…”
“Shoot Verone, and we’re partners.” Connor burrows the barrel of his gun into Danny’s maple brown hair. “Refuse, and I shoot your buddy here.”
My hands shake. Connor’s well-aware I’ve never killed anyone. I stay behind on every mission, handling the numbers and paperwork and organizing meetings disguised as galas at the Cosmopolitan.
This is not who I am…the Mona Lisa in a prize box at the county fair.
I don’t belong here.
Except the venom—the hurt, the accusation, the determination—lacing Connor’s tone tells me he’s serious.
My gaze flicks to Danny’s, and my knees all but buckle.
One eye is swollen shut. Dried blood stains his white undershirt. His handsome nose is bent and bruised, most likely broken. I’ve never seen him look so defeated.
Even so, he gives me a smile, encouraging me even now.
Danny’s a good man, one of the few men aside from my father and boss who’s never treated me with anything but respect and kindness.
He’s my only real friend, and I may have condemned him to death with my shortsighted orders.
I tighten my hold on the gun. I won’t let him die for my mistake.
Despite the nausea roiling in my gut, I meet Connor’s cold eyes. “Fine. I’ll kill Verone if you let Danny go.”
“Deal.” The agreement should feel good, but the knot in my belly only twists.
For once, I trust his word. He won’t release Danny until Verone’s dead. That’s not the game.
My hand shakes, no matter how hard I try to steady it. The firearm practically vibrates in my wobbly grasp.
I really don’t want to kill this man. Doing so feels like permanently crossing a line.
If I murder him, I become one of them. I’ll be just the same as Connor.
If I issue the order without pulling the trigger, though, am I somehow magically cleansed of all wrongdoing?
My thoughts are a battlefield of good versus evil, angels and demons scrabbling over the remaining scraps of morality in my soul.
I face Verone. I once heard my father tell Nino, “Look a man in the eye if you’re going to take his life. It’s the least you can do.”
I breathe through the agony of this impossible situation and meet Domenico Verone’s gaze.
He stares at me, wild-eyed and red-faced, hyperventilating in his bonds. Like Danny, he’s covered in bruises and cuts, and he’s straining against whatever ties him to the chair. Sweat covers his neck and stains his shirt.
My gun hand fell while I dithered, so I straighten the weapon, aim at his chest, and place my finger on the trigger.
“I can save your father!” Verone gasps.
Ice floods my veins. “What?”
Connor grunts. “He poisoned him, Cat. One of my many discoveries since we’ve been here.”
“No, no, that’s not possible.” I lower the gun again, striving to chase the fog from my brain. My teeth chatter. “My father’s been sick for three months, and you’ve been holed up awaiting trial for…” Oh my god.
The ice melts, replaced with fury that boils through every limb like lava. My eyes burn, and I blink the tears away while focusing on Verone’s panicked thrashing.
“This motherfucker has a degree in chemistry.” Connor grabs the thin hair on top of Verone’s head, holding him still.
“Created a little concoction in his lab. Cyanide with a liposome, did you say? Some slow-acting agent. It’d get flushed out of a healthy person, but with your family’s history of liver issues… ”
Beads of sweat frame Verone’s red, blotchy forehead and cheeks. “Please, Caterina, listen to me.” He licks his lips with a pale tongue. “I can reverse it—”
“I can reverse it, too, jackass!” Connor smacks the side of Verone’s head. “Caterina can. Danny can. The fucking sewer rat in the corner can, now that we all know what you did.” He sucks in a breath, exhales slowly, and returns his gun to the side of Danny’s head. “Do it, Cat.”
The urge to exact revenge courses through my veins, transforming me, empowering me.
Images of my father wheezing, fainting, moaning in pain.
Unable to eat. Incontinent. Pleading with us to stop treatment because he’d rather die quickly with some dignity than shrivel away in front of his children a little more each day.
I’m so thankful we refused him that wish.
Facing Verone directly, I view my old self in his eyes. A coward.
I don’t want to kill him. I don’t have to.
If I do, though, I’ll save my father. With a few words in front of a judge, Verone could take down our entire operation.
If the Riccis stand any chance of survival, Domenico Verone must die.
His actions condemned my father to an agonizing death. A quick finish is more than he deserves.
With the barrel at center mass, I pull the trigger.
The kickback jars me. My eyes close against the deafening crack as my feet stumble backward.
Verone groans before going quiet. Gun smoke curls up my nose and coats my throat, etching this newest memory into the canvas of my mind. I start believing I might keep my eyes shut forever, but they fly open when the chains binding us clank onto the floor.
Newly liberated, Danny stares at me with calm, stone gray eyes and steps forward.
I shake my head. “Go. It’s okay.” As I inhale, I taste smoke and blood. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”
Danny glances at Connor, then at Verone’s slumped body, then back at me. He nods once, and disappears.
When he does, I drop the gun with a clatter.
With nothing but adrenaline and instinct fueling me, I rush into Connor’s arms.