Page 148 of The Viper's Wife

Ten minutes.

My offering to the pakhan was not enough to smudge out decades of alliance. The pakhan answers to Father—to the New York don, not to his son.

If Valeria is there alone, then the best I can hope for is that he’s tortur?—

I swallow a throatful of bile.

He won’t hurt her.

Hecan’t.

The minutes unfold into infinity as I recite every prayer I remember and plead to every saint I know. I make promises to any god that will listen to keep Valeria and our baby are safe.

The hotel’s parking lot is nearly empty when we arrive, except for another black SUV at the front of the building. Dom screeches to a stop directly in front of the other car, and all three of us burst out of the vehicle.

As I lunge for the front doors, Dom comes up behind me and lifts me into the air.

“Let me go!” I shout, reaching back to gouge out his eyes.

“Hold on, you fucking idiot! You need a vest.” He tosses me roughly in the direction of the other car where one of Salvatore’s men—the one with the scarred face, Camillo—holds out a bulletproof vest and an assault rifle.

A rifle, yes. I need a rifle.

The hotel foyer behind the glass doors is dark—strange for a weekday. Camillo walks up to it with a crash axe, readies himself for a swing, and looks back to Salvatore for his cue.

“Apparently, there’s been a gas leak,” Salvatore says from my side. He’s adjusting the straps on his bulletproof vest. “They evacuated the building.”

“You’re coming too?” I ask. He’s always seemed the type to hang back while his underlings do the dirty work for him.

“Your wife is in danger,” he says, like that’s all the explanation that’s needed.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer—and I finally realize his game—he’s buying my lifelong loyalty.

I nod to him. After today, it’s his.

Salvatore gives the signal to Camillo, and in a few short hits, the glass doors shatter open.

I take the lead.

The casino floor is stripped of life. A few machines blare out promises ofjackpot!as the seven of us sneak pass—Salvatore behind me, his men in the middle, and Dom at the rear.

Every sharp sound that explodes from one of the machines has me flinching and flicking my rifle up to shoot. But there’s no one there.

We get to the private elevator without seeing a single other soul.

“We need the keycard,” I say.

Salvatore stands from his crouch and pulls out his phone to type away at the screen.

After a few seconds, my patience is fried. “Did you hear me?”

The elevator doors ping open.

Salvatore smiles.

Fucking show off.

“So we’re just walking into this obvious ambush?” I ask, waving a hand toward the elevator.