Page 145 of The Viper's Wife

“Mom?” My voice sounds a thousand miles away.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Stefano lunges into the room.

32

NICO

I couldn’t sleeplast night.

Even the feel of Valeria’s warm body against mine, my hand covering her belly, wasn’t enough to burn away the restlessness crawling under my skin.

I haven’t been this happy in a long time—and it scares me.

When powerful men like me get what they want, other men see that and want to destroy it. That was fine when the only thing I had to lose was money or territory or reputation. Those things can always be rebuilt. But now, I have two vulnerable, irreplaceable people to keep safe against the horrors of the world.

How does love not drive people insane?

I sip from my whiskey, leaning against the cool glass overlooking the fog curling through the city. It might rain today.

I miss the beach.

I sigh, finish my whiskey, and move toward my hotel door.

Valeria will be getting ready for the wedding with her friends and my sister. She won’t be happy to see me.

I pull on my boots. I’ll keep my visit short—just a glimpse to make sure she’s okay, and then I’ll leave.

I won’t lose myself to paranoia.

As I lace up my second boot, a soft, muted thud like a footstep comes from the other side of my door.

I reach for my gun.

A knock sounds.

I open the door. The moment I see the grim expression on Salvatore’s face, I know my entire world is about to crash and burn.

“Where is Valeria?” The room tilts underneath my feet.

Wrapped in a great black coat like a crow’s wings, Salvatore’s gaze ticks over me. “Missing. Come with me.”

He sweeps down the empty hotel hallway while I stand there, blood roaring in my ears.

Cold, sharp fear stabs down my spine.

Valeria.

The baby.

My brain kicks into motion. I swear in a long stream as I sprint after Salvatore.

He steps into the elevator, and I jump after him and tackle him, his head bouncing off the metal wall.

“Where the fuck is she?” I shout.My baby. They took my fucking baby.

I shake Salvatore by his coat like a rag doll until the barrel of his gun presses into my stomach, and I go still.