Page 75 of The Merciless King

If those names deny knowing who I am, then I can kiss the rest of my life goodbye.

I’m ashamed to admit the thoughts running through my mind. Amy needs me. But she had choices in life. She didn’t need to supply drugs to her mom.

She could have reached out to me or my parents.

Or my brothers.

She could have chosen a million different things, but she didn’t. Amy chose to become a supplier for her mother.

I get that she lost her dad and was likely hanging on to her mother, but this was not the way.

If she’s still alive, we are having a huge fucking talk.

If I get to live past this meeting.

I think about my parents who have no idea what I’m doing. My brothers would be furious with me. It could take days before anyone figured it out that I’ve failed and my body nowhere to be found.

The Dark Kings would eventually figure it out after not hearing from me.

Gianna would hear the shot and find me face down on the table bleeding all over her family table.

Would she care?

How does she truly feel about me? I’ve been trying not to ask that question, but as I come face-to-face with my mortality in this very real moment, I can’t help it.

Nor acknowledge how I feel about her.

If she wasn’t Frank's daughter, I would date her. I would more than date her. I’d be telling her she’s mine and no one else’s.

When I said I’d kill for her, it freaked me the hell out because I’m pretty sure I would. Yes, I’ve killed. I’m a goddamn Marine. But I’ve killed in the name of my country. I’ve killed to protect US citizens and keep this world safe.

Not for a woman and her honor.

Fuck her honor. I would kill to stop any asshole in this crime world thinking they could touch her.

Gianna’s body is mine.

Her soul belongs to me.

Whether her heart is mine is...not relevant.

Because apparently, and irrationally, I’ve decided she belongs to me. I’ll work the rest out if I live past the next ten minutes.

Frank Baldassare stares at me.

Sweat beads on my forehead and my body overheats from the stress.

Fuck.

“We have a deal. Take him to the warehouse,” the don finally says. “Tomorrow night.”

Jesus.

I force myself not to sigh in relief.

I’m still alive.

I might find Amy.

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