Chapter Twenty
Liam
It was the talking that woke me up.
Usually, at some point in the night, the streaming services went back to that ‘Are you still watching?’ screen, and with no one to click the button, the house went silent.
So hearing voices when my phone said it was just after four in the morning had me sitting up.
Then I was worried it was about Charlotte since she was sick. She had this thing where her fevers went crazy and she would hallucinate.
It wasn’t until I reached the door that I knew it wasn’t Uncle Chris and Alara talking.
I didn’t recognize the other voices.
For a moment, I wondered if maybe it was some of the Costa guys, if they dropped by to talk about whatever job they were obviously working after Alara got beaten up.
But then I heard a crash, a gasping sound, then a whimpering.
I turned and rushed back to my nightstand, grabbing the switchblade my uncle got me. With a strict warning about not using it unless it was necessary.
I figured if someone was in the house hurting people, that was good enough reason in his book.
Nerves jangled, but in a weird, almost exciting way. Like going on a rollercoaster for the first time.
Maybe that was a bad example.
Rollercoasters made me sick.
But that thrill of the drop—that was what this felt like.
It had my heart hammering and my breath going quick. But my mind seemed to sharpen, noticing everything in detail that I was sure I would normally miss.
Like the creaking of the floorboards.
The tick of the clock on my wall.
Something scraping in the other room. Maybe a drawer in the kitchen.
The three distinct voices.
Two men… and Alara.
Where were Uncle Chris and Charlotte?
My guts twisted.
Because I knew no one would be putting their hands on Alara if my uncle wasn’t knocked out or… worse.
No.
I wasn’t letting my mind go there.
I had to focus on Alara.
So I turned the knob, careful not to make a sound, then peeked out of the crack, trying to figure the situation out… and what I could do about it, listening to what Alara was saying to the bigger guy with the rose tattoo on his forearm.
He was glaring at Alara as she lied to him.
Said something about Uncle Chris having the flu.
But he didn’t.
Maybe Charlotte did.
Maybe that’s where he was.
But before I could wrap my head around that, he was up on the couch, walking over it, looming over Alara, then reaching out to grab her face.
I saw the pain slice across her face as he snarled at her.
It wasn’t time to wait for my opening anymore.
I just flew at him, stabbing the knife right into the bicep of the arm crushing Alara’s face in its hand.
It was all a blur then.
Punching, getting punched, pain from both, blood, sweat.
Then a lucky uppercut had the guy falling back into the coffee table.
I didn’t stop to think.
I went right for Alara.
Who was being pinned to the ground by that sick asshole.
Then there was more of it.
Punching, getting punched.
The taste of blood in my mouth.
I’d just gotten the upper hand when a movement stole my focus.
Alara being dragged up by her hair, a sharp hiss escaping her.
I scrambled forward.
But the guy came over me, grabbing the back of my head.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was a rag pressed to Alara’s face and her body almost immediately going slack.
I woke up with my heart hammering almost as hard as the pain in my head.
There was just a moment of confusion.
Why was I on the floor?
Why was I in pain?
Why did I taste copper?
Then it came back in a wave, crashing over me, pulling me under.
The intruders. The knife. Alara. The fight. Alara again. More fighting. Watching Alara pass out from what had to be that chloroform crap they used in movies. A split second of pain. Then the blackness.
I shot up, ignoring the way my head and vision swam as I looked frantically around.
But Alara and the two guys were gone.
The hall door was closed.
They took her.
They knocked her out and took her.
Pain pulsed through my hands, my shoulder, my ribs, my head.
But I ran back to my room, grabbing my phone and dialing with frustratingly shaky fingers as I ran back out of the room and stopped at the closet.
Because I remembered something Brio said at dinner when we were over there. About how the movies got it wrong when people got knocked out. That at most, it lasted a minute or two, no longer. So they couldn’t have gotten too far with her. Maybe if I was quick enough, I could catch up to them.
I grabbed the box, yanking it off the top shelf where my uncle told me it was. After showing me what was in it. And doing a quick overview on how to use it.
Just in case, was what he said. If I’m not here, I’m trusting you to do whatever you need to do to protect your sister.
As far as I could tell, Char wasn’t home.
But I had a feeling those instructions went for Alara too.
“Hey, your sister is—” my uncle answered, sounding tired.
“Chris,” I yelled, cutting him off.
There was the shortest of beats.
When his voice came back, it was cold and low.
“What happened?”
“Guys took Alara. When I woke up, they were already here. When I came out of my room, one had her by the face—”
“Fuck,” he hissed.
I whipped off the top of the box, grabbing the gun, amazed, as I had been the last time, at how heavy it was.
But I felt a calm wash over me as I held it.
“Okay. Listen. I’m five minutes from home with Char. If you can—”
“I’m not home.” It was a lie, technically.
But I was already rushing out of the apartment.
“What? Where are you?”
“Two guys. One at least six-two. Bulkier. With a rose tattoo on his forearm. The other was shorter, average. Both had blue eyes.”
“Liam, don’t be stupid. Wait for me.”
“They can’t be too far ahead of me,” I said, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear as I went into the elevator so my hands were free to check the magazine of the gun.
“Liam,” Uncle Chris said, dead serious. “Did you just cock a gun?”
“I’m gonna find her.”
Then, knowing he was only going to keep lecturing me, making me doubt myself, I ended the call and silenced my phone.
He could track it once he got Charlotte safe.
I wasn’t wasting a minute when Alara was with those guys.
I rushed out the front door and down the steps, pausing on the sidewalk, scanning the streets.
Then another memory surfaced.
Alara mentioning a hacker friend.
She said she would bring them there.
That what they wanted was there.
Alara wasn’t stupid.
She wouldn’t lead them to some random idiot and put them in danger. But she would lead them to a hacker who was part of the Costa Family.
That was her thing.
Her obsession with the Family.
She knew everyone.
And as someone who had a growing interest as well, I’d been making mental notes anytime someone said anything that had to do with them.
So I knew there was one computer genius in the Family.
And with a name like Zeno, I didn’t imagine it would be too hard to find his address.
I tucked the gun into my waistband and typed on my phone, having to keep pausing to end the calls my uncle kept making.
Then I had it.
A fifteen-minute walk.
They’d probably taken a cab. Pretended Alara was drunk or high or something.
That maybe cut it in half.
But it was late.
The streets were empty.
And I could run.
If I was lucky, I’d be getting there just behind them.
So I sucked in a breath, ignored the shooting pain up my side, and hauled ass down the road.
Zeno lived in Hell’s Kitchen in an apartment over a nightclub.
The place was winding down, people spilling out the front doors, but the music was still thumping loud enough to guarantee that no one could hear if there was a whole gunfight going on the floor above.
I bolted up the stairs, the run and the noise making my head scream. But there would be time to wallow later.
I made my way to the door, pressing my ear to it as I reached for the gun.
I heard raised voices.
But it was impossible to make out who they were.
I sucked in several slow, deep breaths, not wanting to rush into who-knew-what situation and not be able to breathe.
Once I was sure I could breathe, I reached for the doorknob, turning it so slowly I felt like it took an hour. But if someone was watching the door, I didn’t want them to see it turning and then take me out before I could do anything.
Once it was fully turned in my hand, I sucked in one more breath, then threw it open as I raised my hand with the gun.
I took it all in at once.
The apartment with the killer computer and gaming setup; the man lounged back in his computer chair in pepperoni pizza-patterned pants; the man leaning over him with a gun; the one holding Alara by the throat.
With the noise from downstairs, most of them didn’t hear me. And the only one directly facing me was the man in the chair.
Zeno Costa.
He didn’t remind me of the other Costas.
He was tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and had the same kind of bone structure. But in his stupid pajama pants, with his ink and his piercings, he just didn’t fit the mold of what I thought I knew about the Costas.
When his gaze fell on me—and the gun—though, I saw something cold slice across his eyes.
For a second, I thought he was trying to silently communicate something to me.
But it was right then that the guy holding Alara noticed me.
“Put it the fuck down,” he roared, making Alara stiffen.
Her head whipped over, eyes round.
“Liam, go,” she pleaded.
“Yeah, Liam, you should go,” the guy holding her said as his hand slipped, tightening around her throat. “Or she will pay for it. And so will he.”
He nodded toward the desk, and my gaze followed, finding the muzzle of the gun pressed hard into Zeno’s head.
He didn’t seem bothered, though.
“I’ll kill her,” the guy holding Alara said, pressing harder into her neck.
Her eyes were panicked, her mouth opened like a fish.
Feeling lost, my gaze slid back to Zeno, looking for some kind of instruction.
He widened his eyes at me, then lowered his gaze down to his hand.
I tried not to be obvious, but looked and saw something metallic and sharp sticking out of his hand.
My gaze flicked back up to his, holding, watching, waiting, knowing there was going to be a sign.
“She’s gonna lose consciousness,” the guy warned.
I saw the moment at the same time as Zeno.
The guy holding a gun to his head got distracted and looked over at Alara.
Zeno nodded.
Then he shot up out of the chair, stabbing his makeshift weapon into the guy’s wrist as his other hand reached for the gun.
My gaze went back to Alara.
She was still conscious.
But her body suddenly went slack, dropping down into the guy’s arms, sliding down far enough that I had an opening.
I took aim at the broadest part of his chest.
My finger pulled.
Once.
Twice.
His body jolted one way, then the other.
Alara was released, and she scrambled forward toward me.
The guy was still on his feet.
The third bullet had him on his knees.
“Stop,” Alara pleaded. “You don’t want to kill him.”
But she was wrong.
I did.
I really did.
I knew it was the adrenaline, the fear, the anger.
But she was standing in front of me then, using her body as a shield, preventing me from emptying the magazine into his body.
Not that it mattered.
Because Zeno, seemingly finished with his guy, strode forward, almost casually, moved behind the guy, yanked his head to the side, and shoved the sharpened piece of metal into the guy’s carotid.
Alara must have seen my reaction because she whipped around, let out a small cry, then turned back to me. “Don’t look. Close your eyes. Don’t…”
I’d already shot the guy.
This wasn’t as gory as the movies made it look.
And it was all over in seconds.
The body fell slack, to the ground.
I glanced over, finding the other guy similarly still, facedown on the floor, a pool of blood haloing him.
There was a sound behind me, making me whip around, gun raised.
“Whoa,” Uncle Chris said, hands up, the gun in one of his palms. “It’s alright. Put the gun down, Liam. It’s alright.”
He was talking to me like a scared dog.
Like I might go feral and put a dozen plugs in him.
I lowered my arm.
Zeno was at my side then, grabbing the gun from me and walking over toward his desk.
It was a swarm then, Costa men rushing into the apartment, weapons drawn.
I was still staring at my uncle.
When, suddenly, Alara nearly tackled me with a hug.
“You’re okay. I was so worried you weren’t okay.”
She was making crying sounds then—big, hiccuping sounds.
“I’m fine,” I brushed it off.
I glanced up at my uncle as he tucked his gun away, then reached to pull both me and Alara into a bear hug, nearly suffocating me in the process and making my ribs scream. But I didn’t pull away.
“Charlotte?” Alara asked, sounding all stuffy from crying.
“On her way back to the apartment with Ezzy and Brio. She’s okay. Are you okay?” He pulled back, framing my face. “Fuck, kid.”
“I’m fine.”
“His face was slammed into the floor,” Alara said. “He needs to get checked out.” She sniffed hard. “And his ribs. I think he was kicked in the ribs.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “She was strangled. Twice.”
Uncle Chris reached for both of us, pulling us each under one arm, taking turns kissing our heads like little kids.
“They dead?” he asked Zeno.
“Oh, yeah.” Then, voice lower, “On me. Not him.” Then, a second later, “Though, he does have good aim.”
I wasn’t about to admit it was thanks to endless hours with friends playing paintball or Airsoft.
Alara’s hand was on my face, pressing into my cheek. “He saved me,” she told my uncle. “Twice. Or maybe three times. It’s all blurring together.”
Uncle Chris’s arm tightened around me. “Happy to hear it. But also, don’t ever fucking do that to me again.”
“Chris,” a stern voice called, making all of us turn to find the capo dei capi himself standing there. In his pajamas. Which was kind of funny. Everyone was in their pajamas, actually. “Salvatore is on his way to the clinic. I want them both checked out.”
“I was already planning on it.”
“But I need to know what happened.”
Alara and I both launched into it then, filling in the gaps for each other as more and more Costa men filed into the apartment.
“Where’s the drive?” Lorenzo asked when we were done.
“I still have it. Stupid fucks didn’t see it sticking out of my damn laptop,” Zeno said, shrugging, as a man who had to be his brother grabbed his chin and turned his head to check out his steadily darkening black eye.
“Okay. I’m gonna need to get Silvano in here. And we all know how that’s gonna go. So let’s start clearing out. Not you,” he said to Zeno. “Nero is parked outside with my car. Take it to go see Salvatore.”
With that, we were dismissed.
Stuffed in the back of the town car, the whole night came back to me in flashes.
And I knew two things.
I would absolutely do it again if I needed to, no matter what my uncle thought.
And I wanted to go into the family business.