Page 74 of Cage the Storm
Her jaw tightens. “The usual. That I’m a placeholder. That Bianca is still the family’s darling.”
Bianca.The name tastes bitter on my tongue. I tuck a loose curl behind Luna’s ear. “You know why I didn’t marry her.”
“Because she’s a spineless bloodsucker?”
“Because she isn’t you.” She stills, then rolls her eyes, but the flush creeping up her neck betrays her.
“Machiavelliwould’ve hated you. Too sentimental.”
I drag my thumb over the book’s embossed title.“Everyone sees what you appear to be,”I recite, my mouth at her ear.“Few experience what you really are.”She sucks in a breath. Good.
The phone in my pocket vibrates—Mateo. Docks cleared. Police bribed. It’s taken care of. Later.
For now, I pull her to her feet, and her back flush against my chest. “Rest,” I order.
She scoffs. “Or what?” I spin her around, grip firm on her hips.
“Or I’ll tie you to the bed.” Her laugh is dark, laced with sin.
“Promises, promises.” But she lets me lead her upstairs, her fingers pressing into my arm like she needs reassurance.
I lay down beside her, and as she drifts off, her grip on my sleeve loosens. I brush my lips over the bruise on her shoulder, my mark from a few nights ago, before I slip free.
The burner phone bleats again. Enzo. “Speak.”
“Your wife’sfamigliaput a bounty on you.They’re breaching the estate now.” Fuck. I’m already moving, my Glock in hand.
“How many?”
“Around twenty or thirty. They breached the gate—” A scream cuts through the line, then nothing.
God dammit! Mateo and my team are still at the docks, which are a few hours out.
I spin around, heart hammering. Luna’s still asleep, her body half-twisted in the sheets, one bare leg kicked free. She doesn’t know the threat that’s lurking outside.
Glass shatters downstairs. Gunfire erupts. Too sparse. Too brief. They’re inside.
I cross the room in three strides, gripping the edge of the mattress. “Luna, wake up.” My voice is urgent.
She stirs, brows furrowing. “Mm?”
“No time. Get up.”
She blinks at me, confused, but when she hears the distant shouting, the unmistakable chaos of a siege, she’s awake in an instant. I pull her to her feet, pushing her toward the en suite. Just until I clear the house.
“Nico—”
“I need you to stay quiet.” My hands frame her face. “Can you do that for me?” She whispers, “Promise,” but I see it in her eyes. She hates this. Hates being tucked away while I fight.
But I don’t have time to argue. Footsteps pound up the stairs. Close. Too close.
“Lock the door and hide in the tub.” I press a Glock into her palm. Just in case.
Luna locks the door behind me, and I race out of the bedroom with my Glock leading the way.
Two D’Angelo foot soldiers round the corner. I put bullets in both of their skulls before they blink.
But another emerges from a guest bedroom. And another. And another.
