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My mind is reeling with that revelation, but through the shock, my glimmer of hope is burning brighter. It’s not just Nicky coming for us. Dario, a capo and the heir of the Ajello family, really is going to want Molly back. And I’msitting here holding Molly’s hand. His rescue is going to be my rescue.

“You’ve just signed all of our death warrants,” the boss continues, running his hand over his face. “Every single one of us. Do you understand that? Dario Ajello is going to burn this city to the ground looking for him.”

I feel Molly’s hand tighten in mine, and when I glance at him, I see something flickering in his expression. Not quite a smile, but close. Dark satisfaction mixed with vindication.

Because he knows. He knows exactly what’s coming. The fury that will be unleashed, the resources that will be mobilized, the absolute hell that Dario will rain down on anyone who dared to touch what’s his.

And maybe, just maybe, we’re not as helpless as we seem.

The boss turns to look at us properly for the first time, and I see him taking in the details. Molly’s defiant expression, our clasped hands, the way we’re sitting close together on the sofa. His face goes even paler.

“Two of them,” he says faintly. “You took two of them.”

“The other one’s nobody,” the brick wall says, still defensive despite the slap. “Just some guy staying at the apartment. We figured he’d make good leverage.”

“Just some guy,” the boss repeats, and there’s something almost hysterical in his laugh. “Did you check? Did you do any research at all, or did you just grab whoever you saw?”

The Russians shift uncomfortably, and their silence is answer enough.

The boss pulls out his phone, fingers flying over the screen. After a moment, he holds it up to show them something, and I watch their faces drain of color one by one.

“That,” the boss says, “is Nicolo Ricci. Dario’s prodigy. Rising star in the family. The man who they say is being groomed for underboss.” He looks at me directly for the first time. “You’re Nicolo’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“Bozhe moy,” the boss breathes, which I’m pretty sure is Russian for “oh my God.” He pockets his phone and turns on his men with cold fury. “You didn’t just kidnap Molly Ajello. You kidnapped Molly Ajello along with Nicolo Ricci’s boyfriend. Do you understand what that means?”

The brick wall speaks up again, desperation creeping into his voice. “We can use them as leverage. Force negotiations, get better terms…”

“There will be no negotiations!” the boss roars. “Dario Ajello doesn’t negotiate when it comes to what’s his. And even if he did, do you think Nicolo Ricci is going to let this slide? That he’ll calmly discuss terms while his boyfriend is being held hostage?”

He starts pacing, running his hands through his hair in a gesture of pure stress. “They’re going to kill us. Slowly. Painfully. And we will deserve it for being this monumentally stupid.”

I should probably be terrified by this conversation, by the casual discussion of death and torture and the violence that’s apparently coming our way. But instead, I feel something like glee blooming in my chest.

Because they’re right. Nicky isn’t going to negotiate. Dario isn’t going to sit back and let this play out through the expected channels.

They’re coming for us.

And God help anyone who gets in their way.

Chapter thirty-two

Nicky

The call comes halfway through the meeting about protecting our shipping routes from the Russians, and I know immediately something is catastrophically wrong by the way Dario’s face drains of color.

“What do you mean they’re gone?” he says into the phone, his voice deadly quiet.

My stomach drops. Gone. Who’s gone?

But I already know. Deep in my bones, I already know.

“How long?” Dario’s knuckles are white around his phone. “And you saw nothing? Nothing at all?”

I’m on my feet before I realize I’ve moved, my own phone already out, calling Liam. It rings once, twice, three times. Goes to voicemail.

I try again. Same result.