“You’re strong. Don’t tell yourself any different. Now stand up and let’s move before Rinaldo has a chance to get away.”
I bite my lip hard enough to hurt. It’s the only thing that keeps me centered. Nico’s right—we’ll tell Casso. Nico can kill Rinaldo. It’ll be okay.
I’ll get shipped off to Dallas, but at least I won’t be married to that monster.
I take Nico’s hand and let him take me to his car and I sob silently to myself on the drive home.
Chapter 8
Nico
I can barely breathe from the anger that rolls down my chest.
Karah stares out the window and doesn’t speak. I can only guess what she’s going through right now. My own past haunts me: the fire at my back and the screams of my mother. Gunshots ringing out through the otherwise silent night. I reach up and touch the scar along my face and try to force the images away.
They won’t disappear.
My hands tighten around the steering wheel.
Why did I get involved? I should’ve stayed far away from Karah and that psycho Rinaldo. Now I’m going to hunt that bastard down and put a bullet in his head, all because he was too much of an animal to wait until his wedding night.
I tried to warn her. Again and again, I tried to make her see the truth, but she was so blinded by her fear that she pushed ahead anyway.
Fucking hell. How am I going to fix this? Killing Rinaldo won’t take away Karah’s pain.
And why do I even care?
I keep telling myself that I hate her. She’s part of them—she’s one of the Brunos. She’s everything I despise about this world and more wrapped up in a little pretty package, pampered and protected and cared for.
I loathe her. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am.
I’m inches away from my revenge, and this threatens to set me back and make my life so much more difficult.
Getting any closer might jeopardize my revenge, and I can’t do that. I won’t give this up, not for anything.
And yet all I can think about is putting my boot through Rinaldo’s skull for what he did to her.
That fucking, sick bastard.
I park outside of Villa Bruno and turn to Karah. Her arms hug her chest and she doesn’t look back at me and neither of us speak for several long beats. But we can’t sit out here forever.
“I’ll take you to your room then talk to Casso.”
She nods. Doesn’t speak.
I watch her without moving. I wish I had the words to make this better—but why do I even want that, when all I’ve done is make her life miserable?
I thought I wanted to torture her.
But I never wanted this.
No, never something like this.
I may hate her and her brothers—but they aren’t the reason my life’s a wreck. They aren’t the ones that stole my world and killed my parents all those years ago.
I want to hurt them, but not like I want to hurt their father.
Don Bruno.
“Come on,” I say gently and get out of the car.
She follows. I don’t touch her—I can’t touch her right now—but I walk with her in through the front and up the stairs. I make sure she’s settled before I shut her door and stand in the hallway, seething.
I have to talk to Casso. Rinaldo’s probably awake by now, and he knows he’s fucked. Even a psychopath is smart enough to know when to run. He’ll get a head start, but I understand this city better than anyone and the Bruno family’s connected enough that he won’t get far.
So why don’t I start moving?
I close my eyes and see it again. Rinaldo looming over her, his hand around her throat, squeezing. I see her pawing at his chest and I hear her begging him to stop. Rage fills me again, hot and clear. I need that rage right now.
It fuels me.
I stride away and find Casso in the rec room. The pool tables sit empty and quiet. The TV is tuned to soccer match on mute. He’s going over some numbers from the last count—the one I fucked with, which explains why he’s frowning—and looks up when I stride to the bar and pour myself a drink.
“We need to kill Rinaldo.”
He blinks a few times and sits up straight. “All right, brother. I know you don’t like him, but—”
I throw back the drink and stare into his eyes.
“He just tried to rape your sister.”
His face instantly goes blank. Casso comes off as a charming and jovial guy, but that’s just a front to help him manage the soldiers better. Deep down, Casso’s a heartless murderer, just like me.
“What happened?”
I tell him the full story. It takes me two drinks to get through it, even though there’s not much to tell. When I finish, he joins me at the bar and pours himself three fingers of good whiskey.