Page 156 of Phantom Mine

“You know who I am,” he notes, an Eastern European accent cutting through his words.

Not a question. An observation.

He crosses his arms over his chest. Tattoos emerge from beneath the cuffs of his shirt; a cobra wrapped around each arm, the heads on the back of his hands, the mouths open and hissing. They writhe grotesquely with his movements, looking for one tense moment very real and alive.

“I guessed. The accent and tattoos confirmed it.”

Whoever this man is, the soldiers who report to him are well trained. None of them shift in the slightest. They stand still as statues, waiting for orders from their boss.

“To answer your question, I didn’t come here for you,” the man announces. “In fact, I didn’t expect to find you here. You’re not the one I want.”

The words immediately chill the air.

Matteo stiffens, his entire body turning rigid. His raised arm starts to shake, and not out of exhaustion. The anger pouring off of him is palpable.

“If you think I’m going to let you lay a fucking finger on her—”

Sharp teeth anchor a sharper smile, cutting him short.

My stomach cramps painfully. Matteo thinks he’s talking about me, but it’s Aurora who was up for auction tonight.

Her face is pale and completely drained of color when I look at her. She’s shaking so terribly, I can hear her teeth clanking together. I grip her arms and shove her behind me.

“‘Her?’” the man questions. He doesn’t look at us. He hasn’t once since he stepped foot in the alley. “I have no interest in either of those girls.”

“Then what the fuck do you want?” Matteo growls.

The man’s gaze slices over to Enzo.

I inhale sharply.

Then his eyes lower to the unconscious man at his feet.

And his entire demeanor shifts.

Where there was only glacial detachment before, emotion suddenly swells venomously to life. Deep, smoldering hatred burns bright and ugly in his gaze. The change is so abrupt, so violent, it gives me whiplash.

His hands twitch like he’s about to wring Amadeo’s neck before he clenches them into brutal fists.

“Him.”

If Matteo is shocked, he doesn’t show it. Sometimes I forget that he’s just as ruthless as my brother.

“What did he do?” Enzo asks.

There’s an angry spasm in the man’s jaw when he responds. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“It concerns me if a Made man pissed the Serbian Mafia off so badly that you decided to come out of hiding to get him yourself,” Matteo counters. “What slights of his will I need to answer for?”

“This isn’t business, therefore my reprisals will not extend to you,” the Serbian replies. The scar on his face jerks when his eyes narrow on Amadeo. “He crossed mepersonally.”

I swallow thickly. The clear menace in his tone lets everyone know just how big of a mistake that is.

“Based on the bodies scattered around you and the way your guard has his foot pressed into his neck, I’m assuming you’ve realized what a treacherous cunt your captive is. Trust that whatever you were planning to do to him, I intend to do a thousand times worse. So hand him over to me, Leone. I could kill you all if you’re not feeling cooperative.” Behind him, all twelve men pull the safeties off their guns. “But I’d rather not have to.”

This time, I do take a step forward. Enzo’s angry growl stops me. It shatters the tense silence when he sees Matteo lower his weapon.

The scarred man lifts his hand. The guards pop the safeties back on and put their guns away.

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