Page 107 of Sweet Prison

“Do you think it was Camorra, boss? We tracked down everyone we knew of, but maybe there’s someone we missed. Could this be retaliation?”

Could it? Definitely probable. The possibility of a gang of Camorra fucks lying in wait and then chasing my people down is very goddammed likely. Is that what happened here? Was Peppe shot while Salvo managed to get away with Zahara? Are they currently safe somewhere, hiding out? Jesus fuck, I want to believe that to be true. But something tells me it isn’t.

The phone in my pocket starts vibrating. Pulling it out, I check the caller ID.Salvo Canali. I should be feeling a modicum of relief right now. Instead, heart-stopping terror grips me. My guts twist into a tangled mess as I stare at that name on the screen.

“Boss?” Joey mumbles. “You okay?”

“Get back to the house and wait for further instructions.”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“NOW!”

With adrenaline pumping through my body, I draw a sharp, impatient breath. Then, swiping right to answer, I bring the phone up to my ear.

“Where. Is. She?” I can barely get the words out, while an icy current zaps down my spine.

“With me,” Salvo replies. “Safe and sound. For the moment, at least.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The bastard laughs. “Remember the spot we were always sneaking away to when we were kids? Let’s play again. Be there in an hour.”

The line goes dead.

***

I move a pine branch to the side and step into a small meadow surrounded by majestic evergreens. Looking utterly perverse at the center of this beautiful glade is an elaborate neoclassical structure. The Canali Family Mausoleum. Three generations of Canalis are buried within its burgundy granitewalls, locked behind black art deco doors that are flanked by polished white Ionic columns.

Before this night ends, I’ll make sure the fourth generation joins the eternal ranks.

“I’m glad to see you had the good sense to come alone. My don.”

Salvo is leaning on one of the columns, arms crossed at his chest. The wrought iron lantern over the entrance casts light on the black Glock in his hand.

I keep my steps slow and measured as I cover the distance between us. Acid churns in my stomach, and the bitter taste of his betrayal tightens my throat. With every ounce of my control, I resist immediately rushing the bastard. Though nothing would give me more pleasure than snapping his treacherous neck.

“Where’s Zahara?”

“Inside. Keeping my dad company.” He grins.

Red paints the edges of my vision and my ears start to ring.He has my angel inside the fucking tomb!

My fingers are itching for my gun, and I’m a split second away from drawing it out when a voice thunders inside my head.

Don’t! You’ll jeopardize our girl!

Taking a deep breath, I shake the tension out of my muscles, adopting a nonthreatening stance. “Let her go, Salvo. This—whatever this is—it’s between you and me.”

“Hmm. You’ve finally wised up. Took you a while. Two decades, almost.”

“Never figured it’d be my best friend who’d stick a knife in my back.”

The look he gives me is one of undisguised hate. “I was never your friend! The only reason I showed you even a semblance offriendship was because my father made me. The old goat even transferred me into your school, despite me begging him not to.”

“Why?”

“So I could get close to the Don’s prodigy, of course,” he sneers. “Can you fucking imagine how it felt to be compared to you my entire fucking childhood? To a piece of trash who somehow always got top grades, despite missing more than half the classes. And why? Because he was too busy roughhousing with common soldiers and slumming it down by the docks. Our noble prince! The son of a goddamned warehouse worker who wouldn’t know what true class is even if it bit him in the ass!”

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