Page 118 of From Rome, With Hate

Elia holds his breath, his entire body stiffening with cold realization.

“Okay,” he breathes out, tugging on his still-tied right hand. “I answered your question. I told you who I work for. Now, can you let me go?”

I laugh, sardonically. “Did you miss the part where I said you tried to kill my cousin and her husband?”

If Elia’s swollen eyes could spread any wider, they would.

“I don’t fuck with family,” I tell him, straightening my back. “But you can rest easy, Elia, knowing I’m finishing what you and your brother started. And while you’re at it, tell Enzo I said hi.”

I lift my blade to Elia’s throat and drag it across his flesh. A river of blood spills onto his chest, and the life drains from what little I can see of his eyes.

Once I’m certain he’s dead, I step back and snap a picture before heading to my waiting car outside the warehouse.

“After you’re done cleaning up,” I tell Lachlan, “meet me at the jet terminal in Boston. We’re going to do a little research into Francesco Ferrari.”

“Who are we searching for, sir?”

I stop mid-stride, grabbing a towel from a nearby table to clean my blade. “Like I told him.” I nod toward Elia’s dead body. “I’m going to steal what Francesco took from me. Apparently, that means we’re now looking for a sister.”

Are you as ready for Rhys???