Page 44 of Retaliation

“Skeldon, I swear to whatever god it is that you pray to,” she growled, her patience snapping, “I will make you pick up your teeth with broken fingers if you don’t get out with it.”

Skel flinched, but he didn’t hesitate any longer. “His name is Tidal, and he went missing.”

“He’s not missing. He’s dead,” she cut in sharply, her words like a blade. The room fell silent, and she could practically hear her crew’s collective intake of breath. She didn’t care. This wasn’t a time for delicacy.

“How…” Cat’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with shock.

“They rushed him into the hospital with a hole blown through his chest while I was there—on your orders,” Poison emphasized, jabbing a finger in Skel’s direction. “But what does it have to do with us?”

Skel shifted uncomfortably, his face pale. “The Don thinks you’re behind it. The men carrying Tidal from the ring took him straight outside instead of to the infirmary. They have no idea what happened to him. Poison, he thinks you’re looking to start a war with him.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Her mind reeled. This was bad. This was so fucking bad. Why would the Don ever think she would rise against him? The idea was ludicrous, suicidal even. Her loyalty to him had never been in question. Until now.

“I will go and see him tomorrow,” she said, her voice steady but laced with urgency. “I need to clear this with him before things go to shit.”

“I’ll do it,” Skel offered quickly, his concern for her palpable. “I’ll arrange a meeting with him.”

“No,” she shook her head firmly. “He needs to hear it coming from me.”

“You sure?” he asked, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

“I am, but why would he think his men would answer to me? Why did they take him outside, and how did they get past Giovanni and Roberto?” She needed answers, and she needed them now. Her mind was spinning, trying to piece together the fragments of this puzzle, but nothing fit.

“They left through a back entrance,” Skel explained, as if even he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“I didn’t even know there was one,” she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. “I thought it was all rock walls.”

“Apparently, it’s reserved for the Don only. But no one saw anything, and they don’t know where they took him,” Skel added, his frustration evident in the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“And the men that took Tidal?” she asked, though she already had a sick feeling she knew the answer.

“They were taken care of,” he replied, his tone dark. Something flashed in his eyes—anger, maybe, or something deeper, something that mirrored the storm brewing inside her.

She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. This was a setup, a deliberate move to pin her against the Don. Someone was playing a dangerous game, and she was caught in the middle.

“I’ll handle this,” she said. Her crew was looking at her, waiting for her next move. She wouldn’t let them down. She couldn’t. But more than that, she wouldn’t let herself be manipulated like this. Whoever was behind this—whether it was Tidal, the Don, or some other player—would regret pulling her into their mess.

But first, she needed to make sure the Don understood she wasn’t his enemy. Because if he truly believed she was a threat, she’d be dead before she had the chance to set things right.

She knew how much Skeldon hated the Mafia’s way of conducting business. She could see it in his eyes now and he had told her as much the night she ran into this very gym the day they met. A freak thunderstorm had turned the roads into a treacherous river, making it impossible to drive her bike. Seeking shelter, she had seen the door standing agar and slipped inside, and to her surprise, Skel had attacked her.

They had fought until she was able to pin him to the ground, her knee on his throat. He had tapped out, and that was the start of their partnership. Two years after that encounter, she had made him her second.

Drawing her thoughts back to the present, she looked to her crew.

“It will be best for everyone to lay low until I get this sorted out,” Everyone nodded in agreement. “That means no challenges. If another crew is challenging you, by all means. You’re welcome to accept, but we cannot set a challenge. The Don will see this as an advance at him, and I will not have any blood on my hands. Am I clear?”

“Clear,” came the chant from her soldiers, and she nodded, sealing the command.

Turning to Skel, she ordered: “Set up the meeting as early as possible in the morning.”

At nine in the morning, Poison sat on her bike in front of wrought iron gates with six AK-47s pointing in her face.

She hadn’t been able to relax after the meeting, so she stayed at the gym training for about four hours after her crew left. She had only gone home to shower and change her clothes before getting onto her bike and making her way to the Don’s mansion.

She knew the significance of this meeting and its location. The fact that they were meeting at his private residence meant that the Don didn’t see her as a threat. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.

Taking a deep breath to calm the voices in her mind, she removed her helmet and looked at the guards—their barrels aimed at her head, watching her every move.

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