Page 55 of As Angels Sin

“You should have told me sooner that you were working for him. I wouldn’t have come back.” It would have saved me a ton of trouble along the way.

“That’s why I couldn’t tell you.” Mark kicks himself off the hood of his car and walks over to me. We stop a fair distance apart, weary of one another. It’s for the best. We’re both out for blood.

“I thought that if I got you here, and showed you what was in store and gave you what you wanted, you’d come around to seeing things my way.” He half-smiles ruefully.

I wonder if he set our meeting here because he can show me that he came alone. There’s nothing but a sea of green grass around us, apart from a single tree, far out in the distance, that’s too thin to hide behind.

It’s a mistake he won’t be able to make twice.

“What I wanted?” I ask.

“Fiametta,” he says bluntly.

“Trying to play one of Matteo’s games, are you? Offering the world for a soul I don’t use. I’m not Tomas. I don’t need anything.”

Because I have Fiametta already.

“We don’t have to do this, Crue. No one knows about Tomas, yet.” Mark presses his hand to his face and drags it down. “Think about it. With the Napoli’s gone, the only thing standing inourway of taking over this city is Matteo. We can—”

“I want nothing to do with this city.” I stop Mark before he gets too far ahead of himself.

“Right,” Mark’s shoulders sink, and he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to do this, Mark. You can turn around and walk away. I won’t ask you to join me. Not this time. But don’t throw your away life for Matteo Baronne.” It’s my first and last warning.

Mark cocks a brow, then chuckles. “You know how it goes, Crue. There’s no walking away from the mafia. Believe whatever you want, we both know you came back here because of that.”

“I came back here because you wanted me here.” And because she needed me here. “I’m not afraid of Matteo.”

“You should be,” he says. It’s solid advice.

I’m sure I would’ve been afraid if I were anyone else. Or even just a fraction less me than I am. But although my shadow has mostly gone quiet since getting its release through Tomas’s death, I know it’s still there. It’s guiding my instincts. Heightening my senses. Keeping the fire burning, until this thing is through.

“You know, Mark, I’m not angry that you’ve chosen to stand with him instead of me. But after all we’ve been through, I am very disappointed.”

He chuckles again, but his eyes turn dark. Did I hit a nerve?

“Then let’s have some fun,” Mark says, and removes his jacket. When it falls from his back, I see the armory he has attached to his body. Four different calibers of pistol, all holstered with their clips undone for easy access. Some throwing knives and a couple of stars line the length of his belt. He has a belt pouch, which could contain any number of things, although my gut tells me it houses some form of poison.

But interestingly, the thing Mark reaches for is a Bowie knife. It’s wider than my dagger and longer too, with serrations along the tip to make the first pierce all the more painful.

Hand-to-hand it is, but I don’t reach for my dagger. I lift my hands into a boxing stance, keeping my palms open and loose for an easier opportunity to grab if I must. I crack my neck, side to side, and approach Mark.

“Turn around and go home, Mark,” I say, though it comes out as an order.

“You know I can’t,” he swipes at me. I step back, seeing the steel glint beneath the sun as his knife passes close.

“Why?” I throw a fist. He dips his head to the right, pre-emptively ducking the opposite way to avoid a left jab I don’t send.

“Apart from Matteo killing me?” Our eyes are locked together. Our bodies act out of years of muscle memory and training, rather than tactical thoughts.

“Yes?” I swing again. The same right, and Mark evades it with the same double bob.

Got you.

“Because we’re either in this together, or not at all.” He drives the serrated edge towards my chest. I slap his arm above the wrist and step aside.

“This is a silly thing to die over.” I wait for him to return to position.

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