Page 64 of Fatal Scheme

This was a huge blow, a hit we never saw fucking coming, and even though the shock value has worn off, it doesn’t lower the stakes in any way.

The Masseria family is striking against their own, but for what remains to be known.

Jasper isn’t taking the news well at all, switching from throwing shit across the room in silence, or rambling on about plans, reasons why, and raising more questions about our coup.

Tyson is seemingly numb, letting Jasper work this out in his own way, but his curated silence has yet to be determined as helpful, or harmful.

As for me, I’m going through the motions, still recovering from the doozy of a cocktail that Ellie whipped up.

I’d never back down to a challenge, but Jasper made me promise to avoid spiked drinks, and for once, I wholeheartedly agree with him. I feel like I died, everything in my body begging for days long sleep, but we can’t rest until we have answers, and I know a place we can start.

“I’m talking to Ellie,” I speak up, the deathly silent room beginning to make my head spin.

I need an objective, something to focus on, and she’s the perfect victim for the pent up aggression begging to be released from my bones.

“I’m coming with you.” Jasper snaps his head in my direction, his beautiful face riddled with stress, and I nod, not keeping him from something that could bring relief.

“We’re not hurting her. Not yet,” I say firmly, expecting push back, but his will to fight me is nonexistent, a stark contrast from our usual banter.

“You take the lead, Principessina. She trusts you.”

With that, Tyson offers a small wave, not bothering to join us, or argue as to why I’m not fit to stand on my own two feet yet.

This revelation has stunned my boys, their usual characteristics regarding my behavior so far off, I’m afraid I’ve stumbled into the twilight zone.

I could get away with murder right now, and it just so happens that there are two warm bodies down here, the life slowly leaving their souls — whether they feel it or not.

Jasper is right on my tail as I cross the threshold back into the room, finally taking the plunge and looking at her body suspended from the ceiling.

She looks terrified, and although I feel sorry for her, I’m not responsible for the choices that led her down here.

“Ellie. We need to talk.” I fold my arms across my chest, not bothering to frighten her with tools, weapons or taunting.

It’s simple, she tells me what I need to know, or she will die in this basement, and I won’t feel an ounce of remorse.

“Carter, oh thank god! I swear, I didn’t want to do that. He made me.” She wiggles in the chains, her wrists red and raw from the struggle.

“Who?” I reply, a bored tone in my voice as I try my hardest to pretend that this isn’t personal.

Except, it’s about as personal as I’ll allow myself to be, with Ellie being the only friend I’ve ever had, and my boyfriend’s family responsible for an attempt on my life.

Still, I put on my best poker face, the task of retrieving information the only thing front and center in my mind.

“Him, over there. He said they had my mother being followed, and my job was to lure you out while his men kept watch. The one that was talking to you guys,” Ellie pauses, directing her words toward Jasper before continuing, “was a part of the whole thing, but that’s all I know.”

“Son of a bitch.” Jasper punches a wall, the sound of his fist hitting the stainless steel echoing around the room, a huge dent in the metal as he continues pacing like a caged animal.

“Ignore him. Where were you supposed to take me?” I redirect Ellie back to me, a terrified look on her face as Jasper’s outburst scared her.

“A warehouse. I don’t know what they were going to do, but I was given a two hour window, and oh my god. What time is it? They killed my mom!” She sobs, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, letting out a deep sigh as this just keeps getting more fucking messy.

My sidekick is on a rampage, kicking things and muttering to himself, but I need to get through to him because I can’t do this on my own.

Pulling Jasper to the side, I force him out of his head, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing a firm kiss to his lips, tangling my tongue with his.

It takes a few beats, but he comes back to life, stealing the breath from my lungs with a firm grasp on my neck.

“Principessina,” he whispers, breaking our kiss, and finally the icy silver in his eyes overtakes the dilated black circles that presided before, confirming that he’s clear-minded.