Page 83 of The Mastermind
We’d struck back ten times harder of course, after the asshole had dared to crow about slaughtering our loved ones, and before he’d had the good sense to flee back to Mother Russia, we’d massacred three dozen of his crew. Fist, who’d lost his mother that day too, had personally killed at least fifteen men.
I shook my head now, unable to wrap my brain around the shocking, unwitting confession unfolding before my eyes. Had Liv lied about who’d pulled the trigger that killed Mama?
Had it been Giada Mancinelli?
My fingers clawed through my hair, pulling at strands in the hopes of yanking me out of this nightmare. Or if not, finding an alternative explanation that made sense.
But what was there to understand?
Maddelena had known all along and covered up for her sister. The hollow in my chest turned into a block of ice.
She approached where I stood, stared me straight in the eye. ‘Give me the gun,’ she whispered fervently.
I shook my head, words locked within the ice.
Cristu. Pi favori. No.
‘The gun, Giada. Please! Run!’
Her agitation drilled a hole through the ice, enough for me to drop my hands. To reach for her. But… My fists bunched. I couldn’t.
I paused. Swallowed. The burn from thinking she’d believed me to be a horny monster who couldn’t keep his hands off her – borderline true to be fair – necessitating the need for her own bed, was almost laughable now. If I’d thought my feelings were hurt then, they were fucking mincemeat now.
‘Run, run, run, run…’ Her voice was wreathed in hopeless terror and despair, trailing off in hoarse rasps as tears dripped from her eyes.
Sucking in a breath, I reached for her.
She flinched. Attempted to dislodge my grip. It occurred to me that I needed to snap her out of it. Wake her up.
But that would mean engaging with her. Confirming what I’d heard. And fuck it all to hell, I wasn’t ready for that. Not when I was reeling like fucking tumbleweed in a desert storm.
She was quietly sobbing when I led her through the living room and into the bedroom. And dammit, hearing it thawed the numbing ice, replacing it with a ball of grief mixed with… fear?
What the hell did I have to fear?Herfamily had gravely wrongedmine. As the underboss and heir, I had every right to exact retribution.
To demand an eye for an eye… or the equivalent. Demand that she…
My insides congealed just as the thought stalled, unable to complete any thought or scenario that involved hurting Maddelena.
Fuck. The full connotations of this revelation threatened to chop me off at the knees. But her quiet sobs were wrecking me harder.
When we reached it, I paused in shock at the state of her room. The bed was severely rumpled and she’d left a minor trail of destruction in her path. The lamp near the door was overturned, as were the cushions, pillows and sheets. A couple of drawers were half and fully drawn, as if she’d been looking for something.
Something like… a key? I blinked.
She’d tried to lock herself in, knowing the risks. And she’d failed.
Cursing under my breath, I pulled her into my arms, freakishly alarmed when the ache in my middle immediately subsided. With one final sob, she crumpled against me. Sweeping her up, I returned her to bed, remained until her breathing evened out in deep sleep.
Then I rose, shutting drawers, righting the lamp and returning pillows to the bed. I rescued the cushion from the floor to the chair and sat down.
And as I guarded her through the night, I accepted that if I’d needed proof that I was oceans deep for Maddelena Mancinelli, I now had full, irrevocable confirmation.
24
MADDELENA
Those precious few seconds in between waking and complete wakefulness where troubles, big and small, were suspended in a bubble and you could pretend they didn’t exist? As the firstborn granddaughter of a mobster, I was desperately protective of those seconds where the world was full of non-threatening possibilities.
