Shattered Prince

But there wasn’t enough blood to suggest someone was dead, so I had to hope she was still alive and out there. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my body to remain centered and calm, but my hands trembled.

Fucking Jules. I knew getting involved with her was a bad idea. But it was much too late for that—I was deeply involved, stupidly involved, so involved I was ready to burn down the fucking city to find her. But losing my mind right now wouldn’t help bring her back. I had to be smart. I had to figure this out.

Jules was okay. She had to be. I’d find her and bring her home.

And kill whoever did this.

My phone buzzed. I expected Mal and answered without looking. “What’s the word?”

“Hello, Carmine Falsone.”

A cold, frozen feeling spread through my toes and up my legs. I didn’t move an inch.

I knew that voice. I hadn’t heard it in a while, not since my father was alive. But I knew it.

“Nervosa,” I said quietly.

“That’s right.” He sounded amused. “We’ve never spoken directly, though I’ve heard you in the room with your father in the past. I’m calling to introduce myself.”

My brain buzzed itself in circles. Nervosa was the Oligarch for the West and Southwest, and he’d moved into Texas in the last couple years. The Oligarchs were the top layer of the crime family hierarchy, like little kings of their respective territories. Nervosa was filthy rich and powerful, and commanded the respect of multiple criminal organizations, plus unlimited political clout.

He was the kind of man I needed on my side.

But Jules. I had to find Jules.

“Yes, ah, I’m glad you reached out. But right now isn’t a good time.”

“Are you missing someone?” More amusement in his tone.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. My eyes blinked rapidly.

“I’m missing Julieta Suarez.”

“What luck. She’s sitting right here with me. Say hello, Julieta.” I heard the sound of a phone being passed, and then breathing.

“Carmine?”

It was her. Relief flooded me. She was alive. Fuck, she was alive.

“Jules, are you okay? Where are you? What happened? Is Oscar with you?”

“I’m okay,” she said, though she sounded shaken. “I’m with Nervosa. I don’t know where we are. I’m, uh, I’m okay. I don’t know where Oscar is.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t really talk. He wants the phone back.”

Another muffled pass. The Nervosa returned.

“I assure you, Senorita Suarez is safe and sound. I’m going to text you an address. I want you to come here, right now. We have a lot to discuss.”

“I need Jules back. And I need you to promise you won’t hurt her.”

Nervosa laughed. “I don’t make promises, Falsone. Come to the address.” He hung up.

I stood there, tingling. The phone buzzed. An address appeared from an unknown number.

It wasn’t far. A high-rise nearby, actually. It was an apartment in the nice part of town, several blocks away. I was familiar with the building, though only from the outside.

Nervosa. What the hell was he doing in San Antonio, and why did he take Jules? Did he wreck my apartment?

Where the fuck was Oscar?

I texted Mal.

Carmine: Found Jules. She’s OK. Keep looking for Oscar.

Mal: Understood.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and walked into the hallway.

Unease drifted down my spine. Tension lodged itself in my guts. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Nervosa wasn’t supposed to get involved in this petty feud.

But it was too late. I’d caught the attention of an Oligarch, and now I had to play the game.

Only one thing mattered. Jules had to come home. I needed to make sure she was safe and unharmed.

I’d kill that bastard if he hurt her.

I didn’t care if it meant damning the whole city.

I’d burn this entire town if it meant getting Jules back.

Chapter 17

Jules

Nervosa sat with his legs crossed and smiled at me. He sipped a whiskey and leaned back in the couch.

I sat on a comfortable chair across from him. I wasn’t wearing the bag anymore. They’d been kind enough to remove it when we reached the apartment. Nervosa’s bodyguard stood near the door, his hands clasped quietly in front of him.

“Drink?” Nervosa asked. “We’re just waiting for Carmine to arrive before we get started.”

“No, thank you.” I couldn’t meet his eye. It was too intense and terrifying.

I’d heard about Nervosa. My father told stories about all the Oligarchs, but Nervosa in particular had a bloody and storied history. I’d heard he’d calmed down ever since getting married, but I saw no evidence of that. From my perspective, the Oligarch remained a total savage. A monster with an impossible amount of power and money. Rich enough to buy entire nations. Steward of the past and the present and the future. He steered the world according to his wishes, like all those Oligarch bastards.

We played the mafia family game. We fought and bled for what we had. But the Oligarchs were above even that.