The Woman with the Scar (Costa Family)

And everything was fucking fine.

It wasn’t until I was in the middle of a plate of eggs at Emilio’s ma’s place when I got this weird sensation that something was wrong.

And, sure enough, when I looked down, my phone battery had drained completely.

Something akin to panic gripped my system as I waited for the fucking thing to get enough juice to power up.

And then my stomach hit the floor when I saw missed calls from Ezmeray.

Sixteen of them.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ezmeray

I was still floating a little the whole evening after the trip to the pawnshop, the meeting with Lorenzo Costa, and the steamy stuff in the car with Brio.

It felt like a lot had changed in just a couple of hours.

First, the situation with the Polat family was squared away. And I had the whole might of the New York City mafia on my side. Which, you know, was no small feat.

Second, Brio had opened up to me. And I got the distinct impression that he never opened up to anyone.

Third, we sort of, you know, became official, right? That was what happened when people talked about a future that involved the both of them.

I mean, yeah, we still had a lot to learn about each other. And we needed to be able to spend more time together too. But I don’t know, I just got a feeling about him.

And it wasn’t just because I was coming out of a traumatic “relationship” with an abusive, controlling asshole.

Something just felt… right.

I didn’t know how to explain it.

I didn’t even want to analyze it too much.

It didn’t matter why.

It just mattered that it existed.

I wasn’t going to ruin my first hint of happiness by overthinking it.

I wasn’t even bothered by the stupid cameras that may or may not have been watching me as I made my way into the apartment.

I just took a long bath and let myself fantasize about a future free of the Polat family.

A future where I could see my mom. Where I could hang out with my little sister. Where I could take their financial worries away.

And, yes, one where I could spend as much time as I wanted with Brio, getting to know him and his family better.

It was the first night of solid sleep I’d gotten in a year and a half.

It seemed like everything was finally lining up.

Wanting to talk to someone about it because I felt like I was bursting with all the good feelings, I brewed two cups of coffee, grabbed a couple of the mini muffins I had picked up at the store, and stuck everything on a tray to bring across the hall to have breakfast with Judy.

I knew.

I knew the absolute second that I walked into the hallway and saw that her door was cracked the slightest bit.

Judy would never leave her door cracked.

Hell, no woman in the city with a lick of common sense would leave her door cracked.

My stomach clenched as I moved across the hall.

I knew what I was supposed to do. Turn around. Go back into my apartment. Call downstairs to ask the doorman to check on her. Or, in lieu of that, call the police.

That was what a smart person did in this situation, since there was no telling what you might walk in on, if there was still danger present.

Somehow, though, knowing that didn’t even factor in for a second.

All I knew was that she had been my only person in a year and a half who tried to befriend me, tried to get me to leave Eren.

She had been the one to sit with me when I’d been in shock. She had encouraged Brio to get in touch with me again. She had stood up to Berat.

Oh, God.

Even as his name crossed my mind, I knew.

We lived in a safe building.

With a doorman.

There was no way someone crazy person would not only get in, but ride the elevator up to our floor, then randomly choose Judy’s apartment.

And Judy didn’t date. She’d told me that after her marriage, she had absolutely no interest in having a man factor into her life ever again.

So, the only logical conclusion was she’d pissed off Berat.

On that thought, I pushed open the door with my knuckles since I was still carrying the tray and moved into the entryway.

Some part of me thought that if I found someone inside, I could at least use the tray to shield myself, or try to swing at someone.

But that thought flew out the window as soon as I moved in another couple of feet.

Because the tray fell from my numb fingers, crashing down at my feet.

Because the entire freaking living room was splattered in bright red blood.

Heart tripping into overdrive, I jumped over the scattered remnants of breakfast, and rushed into the living room.

“Judy? Judy!” I called, hearing the hysteria growing in my voice until I found her.