22. Nico
NICO
I throw myself out of the car and sprint across the street. A team of firefighters shoot hoses of water into the building.
“Valeria!”
It’s my voice. I’m screaming.
I barrel past the first firefighter and shove past the second. The third tackles me, and I strike out before I know what I’m doing, elbowing him hard in the gut. The heat against my face from the house is blistering. The fire roars.
“Valeria!”
“Hey, man.” A full-face mask swims into my vision. “There’s no one inside!”
I lunge at the firefighter who spoke and snatch his jacket. “A tall woman with black hair, she’s still inside—Valeria, her name is Valeria.”
The mask shakes. “We swept the place. It’s empty.”
“Boss!” A car pulls up with the passenger window rolled down. It’s one of Salvatore’s men—Camillo, the short guy with face scars. “She’s at your place. Giovanni’s with her.”
I dash down the front steps.
Giovanni has her. I’m going to kill him, shoot him in the fucking face, rip out his jugular with my goddamn teeth.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I dive into the passenger seat. “Give me your fucking phone—now.”
I heave like a trapped animal as I call up Salvatore and wait for him to pick up. It takes all my willpower not to lash out at Camillo.
“She’s unharmed,” Salvatore says. “My men are watching her.”
“Watching her?” I spit into the phone. “They’re supposed to protect her. They’re supposed to be keeping her safe. You’re supposed to keep her safe, Salvatore.”
“Giovanni left his weapons outside. I won’t deny him a conversation—”
I hang up. “My place, now.”
Camillo burns rubber down the road as I try not to crawl out of my own skin. I can barely breathe—I’ve never felt this out-of-control, not even when Father had me arrested.
I clutch at the car interior so I don’t punch through the glass.
I need to know she’s okay. If he hurt a fucking hair on her head, if he scared her—my thoughts spiral into a deafening roar as Camillo takes the turn toward my apartment building. The second the car slows, I tear onto the asphalt, stumbling as I race for the elevators.
I jab at the call button.
Too slow, too fucking slow.
The stairs.
I turn and scramble for the stairwell, opening the door and sprinting up the steps.
Hot coals drop into my lungs, searing my throat with each sawing breath, but I don’t stop and I don’t slow down.
Until I get to the fourth floor and see Giovanni waiting for me at the top.
His suit jacket is off, slung over the handrail of the stairs. His gloves are gone.
He sighs.
I don’t think—I act, flying up the last set of stairs, and swing.
Giovanni kicks—it connects, and I’m thrown down the stairs, tumbling ass-over-head until I land at the bottom, my back slamming into the concrete wall and all the burning air in my lungs pumps out like the bellows of a forge.
Giovanni rolls up his dress shirt with slow, methodical movements. “We didn’t have to get to this point, Nicolo,” he says in Italian.
I spit on the concrete and push myself up to standing. “Where is Valeria?”
“She’s in your bedroom where I left her.”
“Did you fucking touch her?”
The second Giovanni’s foot hits the bottom stair, I burst toward him.
My fist connects with his jaw—crack.
I throw punch after punch, striking his stomach, his kidneys, his ribs, his face. And Giovanni’s slow—he’s always been a slow fighter. I think I have a chance.
Until he hits me back.
It’s like an eighteen-wheeler slamming into me. I gasp for breath as I dodge his second punch and throw my body against his.
He lands another strike. And another.
For every two hits I get on him, he lands a heavy blow on me. But I don’t stop. Not when my rib cracks in, or when I can barely see through my swollen eyes.
“Enough,” Giovanni shouts. He throws me onto the concrete platform.
Everything is shattered, but I still push myself up until Giovanni plants a shoe on my chest and grinds me into the floor.
“Listen, you little shit,” he says. “I told you what would happen, and you still chose not to listen. This is the least of what you deserve, and you and I both know it.”
I try to spit on his shoe, but just end up spitting on myself. I laugh weakly. My ribs are on fire.
Giovanni fixes me with a look of disgust.
“Your father was ready to send off Valeria and introduce a new woman of his choosing, but I convinced him off of it.”
“My hero,” I croak out.
“It is time to grow up. You are a part of this Family. You must work. You must make an heir. This is your last chance. If you fuck up again and disobey any of your father’s orders, he’ll make her leave, or he’ll kill her.”
Giovanni stands upright and groans. He presses a hand to his waist. “And I wouldn’t have beaten you up so bad if you hadn’t tried to kill me.”
He turns and drags himself heavily back up the stairs. As his hand touches his suit jacket, I force air through my lungs.
“Giovanni,” I groan.
He turns, expressionless.
“Fuck you.”
Giovanni shakes his head. “You’re lucky you’re all we have. If your sister was born a man, she would have run circles around you.”