Do I want to be the one who demolishes the apex of my uncle’s operation and be the last person Jimmy Luciano ever sees before I pour battery acid on his eyes?
So badly I can taste it.
Luciano somehow backed Kennedy into a corner, orchestrating some twisted scheme for my uncle that forced her to swallow his debt whole. A setup designed to make her choke on it, and I need to know why.
But that’s not why his death will be epic.
The man will beg for death for the years of torment he carved into her beautiful body. And trust me, skinning him alive will be the highlight of my year.
So much so that, even though all I want is to tie Bella to the headboard and let my body crash into hers like a wrecking ball, I need to be here.
To do this.
For her.
My phone buzzes again. It’s been doing that on and off for the past hour whenever a movement sets it off.
It’s clear that my Bella can’t sleep, tossing and turning restlessly, as if her very existence in my world is agony.
Maybe things would be better if I let her go. And I’m not just saying that because, once again, my prick of an uncle has sent me another anonymous text with a single number on it:
3
It’s his way of reminding me I have three days left with her. What he can’t get through that useless brain of his is that it’s over with Kennedy when I say it’s over.
But, fuck, what am I doing?
I mean, I know that having a camera on her is a gross violation of privacy—and felony voyeurism in some states. Though technically, we are in Italy.
And I’m not gonna lie. Seeing her on the screen soothes me in a way that a dozen armed guards and a twelve-foot-perimeter wall around the property never will.
Sure, from the outside, it seems like Kennedy is safe, but I need the extra assurance. Besides, nothing says I care better than round the clock surveillance.
While Dante maneuvers to another wall, when my phone buzzes again, I steal a glance at the screen.
My eyes widen, stunned, as I watch Kennedy beat the living shit out of my pillow like it owes her money.
What the actual fuck?
A second later, she finally calms down, and I try not to take it personally.
Who knows? Maybe I’m moving too fast for my sweet Bella. But bringing her here was...unavoidable. Andre’s vultures are circling, and I’m not ready to toss her to the curb like a broken toy.
Not yet.
Her only way out is through me and it’s better to keep her close. If dancing on the edge of a razor blade makes her a little unsettled, so be it.
When the notification buzzes again, I ignore it. It’s time to tuck Kennedy back on her pedestal in the recesses of my mind while I focus on work.
Dante circles back, and I’ve gotten used to the fact that he never speaks when he’s on direct surveillance—a job tailor-made for a guy whose superpower is sniffing out the truth.
Watching him in action, I’m convinced he was the best peeping tom in a past life.
It’s also the only time he actually shuts up, so I breathe through it and savor the peace.
When he’s this deep in enemy territory, even a whisper could get him shot. Instead of uttering a word, he holds up three fingers high in the air for all of us to see.
Fuck. I blow out a breath. “Looks like Ryder just lost his left testicle. We’re not looking at twice as many men, but three times.”