Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
The room lurches. My knees buckle. As I hit the floor beside Rico, I catch a final, impossible image—Giovanni Bavga standing in the doorway. A gun in his hand.
Then… darkness.
25
Fifteen minutes ago, I was in bed with her.
Now I’m standing in a doorway, gun still warm in my hand, watching Emmaleen collapse alongside Rico’s corpse. Her naked body folds onto the tile, graceful even in this moment of violence. Rico’s blood pools beneath them both, mingling with hers, creating a slick red canvas that doesn’t distinguish between victim and predator.
I’ve seen dead bodies before. I’ve created them. But this—
“Emmaleen.”
My voice sounds distant, foreign. I stick the gun into my waistband, keeping it close just in case he’s got people here, and cross the room in three strides, dropping to my knees beside her.
Blood pours from the wound at her temple, a steady, relentless flow that soaks into her hair, turning the dark strands black.
“No.” The word escapes without permission. Useless. Pointless. Words always are.
I press my fingers to her neck, searching for a pulse. It’s there—rapid, fluttering, but present. She’s alive. For now.
Dom and Ricky burst through the door behind me, weapons drawn. They stop short at the scene, Ricky letting out a low whistle.
“Holy shit, G, is that—”
“Rico’s dead.” I don’t look up. “Handle it.”
My hands are slick with her blood as I cradle her head, trying to assess the damage. The wound is deep, skull possibly fractured. Head injuries bleed dramatically, but this is beyond dramatic. This is catastrophic.
“What about her?” Dom asks, already moving toward Rico’s body, all business.
“I’ve got her,” I say, the words scraping my throat raw. “Get rid of him. Make it clean. Ricky, you go make sure all his men are gone. If they’re not—”
But Ricky interrupts me. “Don’t worry, boss. I know what to do.”
“We can dispose of them all at once,” Dom adds, a plan already forming in his head.
I reach for the bed sheet, tearing it free with one hand while keeping pressure on Emmaleen’s wound with the other. The white cotton immediately blooms red when I wrap it around her head, but it’s better than nothing. I wrap the rest of the sheet around her naked body, shielding her from Dom and Ricky’s eyes.
“You need any help?” Ricky asks, hovering nervously as Dom grabs a garbage bag from my kitchen pantry.
“No. I’ll take care of her. You and Dom wipe this place up. No cleaning crew, just us. And make sure you get all stragglers,” I tell him. “Even if they’re glitter girls. Do you understand me?”
Ricky nods. “Hundo percent.”
Dom’s already moving, pulling garbage bags off the roll like they’re tissue paper, snapping each one with practiced efficiency.
I lift Emmaleen into my arms. She’s lighter than she should be, her body limp against my chest. Her face is chalk-white beneath the blood, freckles standing out like constellations against snow.
“Where are you taking her? Doc Sacova?” Ricky asks.
“No,” I say, grimacing at the thought of Emmaleen’s life in the hands of a mafia veterinarian. “I’m taking her to the fucking hospital.”
“But G,” Dom says.
I cut him off with a hand. “You do your job, I’ll do mine.”
I carry her out of the pool house towards the Lambo. Her blood is soaking through my shirt now, warm against my skin.
This is going to start a war.
What I did was start a war.
But I don’t care.
I’ve been wanting to kill Rico LaRiccia since I was eight years old and finally, it’s done.
And so is my time with Little Miss Take.
I think she’ll recover.
I don’t think she’s going to die.
But there are no more games in my future.
There is no space for a woman—at least… not one I like. In the world I live in, caring about someone is the most dangerous mistake a man can make.
She has to go.
She can’t stay.
She shouldn’t have been here.
She has to go.
She has to go.
She has to—
I’ve already failed, but I keep saying it, over and over, as I drive to Presbyterian University Hospital, my knuckles white against the steering wheel, weaving through traffic like it’s not even there. Every red light I blow through is another second saved. Every horn blaring in my wake is meaningless noise.
She has to go.
The words have become a mantra, a desperate spell I’m casting to protect us both. But even as I repeat it, I know it’s already too late.
The moment I put a bullet in Rico’s brain, I made my choice.
The moment I chose her life over family peace, I sealed both our fates.
And now, I’m breaking the final rule—I’m leaving a witness.
Never mind that this hospital isn’t meant for random shelter girls who got caught up in one of my games. The facility, a special wing on the ground floor with a separate entrance that allows for easy access without drawing attention, was only built for a single man’s medical needs.