The more they pressed the matter, the more furious I grew.

I slammed my glass onto the table.

“I don’t want to kill her. She’ll take us to the Pink Star and that’s final.”

“It’s not your decision alone,” Santo mumbled.

“It is my decision. The diamond is mine. Franco is the one who stole it from me. Now I’ve stolen something he wants and I’m going to keep her.”

Elena grinned, “Possessive, no?”

Pietro glared at her for speaking out of turn.

“He is possessive. It’s like he wants to screw her or something,” Raimondo growled.

“Quiet,” I hissed, “She’s staying with us whether any of you idiots approve of it or not.”

Elena shrugged, eager to do things my way. She was more reliable than my boys on occasion. Pietro, Santo, and Raimondo exchanged glances as if to say that I’d won the battle, but they’d continue to fight this.

“We don’t have time to argue,” I continued, “We need to get on the bikes and head towards the star.”

“Who says the diamond is on this continent?”

“She hasn’t said where yet.”

“What if it’s in Italy?” Santo asked.

I pursed my lips. None of us wanted that. I hadn’t been to Italy in over a decade and I had no desire to return.

“It won’t be there.”

“How are you so sure?” Pietro asked.

“Franco would have to be a fool to bring it all the way over there while he’s running on American soil.”

They exchanged glances again.

“When has Franco been known for his intelligence?”

They had a point, but I didn’t have the time to debate them. The sun had crested over the horizon. I had to wake Dahlia so we could question her more and get real answers about the diamond.

I got her up, rousing her from her sleep despite her initial protests and bringing her downstairs. We didn’t bother with introductions and went straight to questioning her.

When did the Sardinians take the diamond?

We knew this of course, but if she was telling the truth, so should she.

— Last March.

Correct.

Where did they take the diamond from?

— The private vault on Grand Cayman.

Also correct.

Where is it now?