Page 109 of Brutal Devil
She gasps, her glass slipping from her hand and falling to the floor, where it shatters at her feet. “No.”
“It’s the truth, Luna.”
She closes her eyes, swaying. “He killed my brother?”
I grind my jaw, hating seeing her like this. “Yes. Apparently, it’s been Amedeo’s plan for years to take control from your father. But your father was powerful, and he had a lot of alliesin the other families. Amedeo knew he had to move slowly and carefully. First, he had to get rid of the heir apparent.”
“Leo,” she murmurs, a hitch in her voice that tells me she’s trying to hold back her tears.
“Leo,” I repeat. “Amedeo felt that with your brother out of the picture, he would be the natural choice for don. But years stretched by, and then he found out your father was set to announce Squeaky as his successor. That was when Amedeo set everything into motion.”
Her dark lashes open, and they’re studded with tears. “The car bomb that would have taken out my father and Squeaky, you mean. And then when that plot was foiled, he had my father murdered in cold blood at my wedding.”
“He didn’t anticipate Tomasso would find out what he was up to, or that he’d bring you back here and unite the families with our marriage,” I finish quietly.
“So now what’s the plan? He’s going to kill the both of us?”
“No.” I shake my head slowly. “We’re going to kill him.”
A shudder goes through her.
Silence descends, heavy and poignant. So much remains unsaid between us, things I want to tell her.
But everything is a fucked-up jumble. Our first priority is neutralizing the threat. And that means clipping Amedeo and anyone loyal to him. After that, we’ll deal with the fallout. We’ll bring the families together the way they should have been, and Luna will assume her rightful place.
Whether she wants to or not.
The last thought makes my gut clench.
“I’m sorry,” she says, tearing me from my thoughts.
For a split second, I think she read my mind. But then she gestures to the shattered glass and spilled wine at her feet. I’d all but forgotten about it.
“Sorry for the mess I made,” she adds.
“Stay where you are,” I order, eyeing her bare feet. “I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“I can help,” she protests, stepping down before I can stop her.
“Damn it, Luna.”
“It’s fine.” She takes another step and hisses in pain.
Jesus, now she’s hurt and bleeding. Without thinking twice, I go to her and grip her waist, lifting her back onto the stool.
“Stubborn woman.” I press my forehead to hers. “Listen to me. I don’t want you getting hurt again. Keep your ass on this stool until I get back with a dustpan and brush.”
“Your feet are bare too,” she protests.
They are, and I’m standing in broken glass. But I’d walk a mile through it just to keep her from getting hurt again.
“I don’t give a shit about me,” I growl. “I care about you. Stay put.”
I head to the kitchen, wincing at a shard of glass digging into my heel. I pluck it out and toss it into the trash, then grab the dustpan and brush. When I get back to Luna, she’s still on the stool where I left her, but now she has streaks of tears on her cheeks.
Fuck me, she’s been crying.
“Where does it hurt?” I ask softly. “Show me, baby.”
