Page 32 of His Stolen Princess

Cato

The once-resplendent villa crumbles along the edges, and warning signs are posted along the cliff road of the danger from collapse.

I ignore those warnings as I speed along the winding lane, my headlights off, my car giving off nothing more than a low purr as I approach.

When I’m close enough to the estate, I park and jump from my car, then skirt the rusted iron fence along the side until I find a tree close enough to scale. Once I’m up and over, I creep through the cypresses while the cicadas sing overhead.

The house is mostly dark except for the office and a few rooms upstairs. But I’m no fool. They expect me to come for her. How could they not?

I creep closer and find a guard at the edge of the swimming pool, its water green and fetid as a large crack runs between it and the house. It’s on the verge of falling into the sea below just like everything else on this precarious perch.

The guard takes a few steps toward the pool, and I creep up behind him and slit his throat. He doesn’t make a sound as I pull him behind a tangle of roses, the unkempt bushes thick and wild.

I creep closer, then drop low and pull two grenades from my pack. Pulling the pins, I toss them into the crack beside the pool, then take off at a run into the cypresses along the front of the house.

The boom shatters the night, silences the cicadas, and sends up a plume of smoke and debris. I still behind a tree and pull my rifle around to my front as several men run from the house to check the noise.

Once a contingent of them passes, I rush through the night and steal into the kitchen. It’s filthy, a few old meals still sitting half-eaten on the counter. I find another guard, and he sees me at the same time. He starts to yell and raise his pistol, but I slice out hard with my blade and sever his vocal cords. He falls, his neck gurgling as blood pools on the dirty tile floor.

Stepping over him, I ease deeper into the house. I remember every room, every bit of Lantino’s wealth as well as his excess. The hand-painted ceilings and golden trimwork are fading now, the paint peeling and the tile cracked.

A rumble sounds, then yelling from outside. I feel the house move beneath my feet.

“The pool!” someone shouts.

It’s shearing away, my grenades giving it the push it needed to let go and fall hundreds of feet to the rushing waves below. I find the stairwell and pull a charge from my pack, planting it at the base of the house, then I move deeper and plant a few more. My lioness is here, but not in the office or any of the first floor rooms. I kill guards as I go, none of them able to alert the others before my knife slices their lives away. This is what I was born to do. To destroy, to conquer, to honor my lioness by laying my kills at her feet.

A scream floats to my ear as a large, jagged fissure appears in the terrazzo floor of the grand entry hall. The house is splintering now, the fallen pool destabilizing the entire structure. Good. But first, I must find Apollonia.

“Cato!” Her cry is like a fiery whip at my back. I take the stairs two at a time and use my Glock to take out the two guards at the top. One of them falls over the rail and lands in the crack that’s growing by the second. Dust floats from the rafters, and everything seems to be moving around me.

Sprinting now, I find another guard hurrying down the hall toward me. He shoots first. I shoot better. He drops at my feet, and I jump over him and keep going. It’s as if she’s pulling me to her. Silently, but steadily. My blood is cold, but the closer I get to her, the warmer I am.

When I reach the master bedroom door, I plaster myself to the wall and use my foot to push it open. Shots blast through the wood, splinters flying as someone empties an entire magazine into the polished mahogany. I aim my pistol at my side and fire one shot, then drop to the floor hard, making sure the thump is audible.

“Shit. Now he’ll never get to see me fuck a baby into you.” A man’s voice. It has the same tenor as his father’s, the same cruelty, too. “But I can live with that.”

“He’ll kill you.” Apollonia’s voice shakes, but conviction lives in her words.

“He’s bleeding out right now. His body hit the floor. I’m going to take it with me. Keep it as a trophy. Pieces of it, anyway.”

“Let go!” Apollonia screams, agony in her tone as she fights him. “Cato!”

The door bursts open, and Apollonia drops to her knees beside me.

“Cato, no.” She strokes my cheek as the house starts to shake. “Cato, please.” She presses her hands to the wound in my side. “Wake up.”

“He’s dead, you idiot.” Antony walks out. Even with my eyes barely open, I can see he turned out as evil and arrogant as his father. He kicks the gun from my open hand.

“No.” Apollonia shakes her head.

“In fact, I want to seal this deal between us.” He grips her by her hair and wrenches her up, blocking my shot. “Here.” He forces his pistol into her hand and grips her wrists so she’s aiming at my head. “Make sure he’s gone. Do it quick before the house comes down on us.”

“Stop.” She struggles in his grip, but he holds her and gun steady.

“Pull the trigger. Do what you Simonettis do best,” he taunts.

“Get off me!” Tears stream down her cheeks, but she can’t pull away from him. “I don’t need your help. I wanted to kill him myself!”

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