The night is darker than usual. Or maybe it’s just my psyche reflecting some pitch-black ominous shit into the world. Even the stars seem like evil motherfuckers sitting against the darkness, waiting to spit fire and watch us burn.
I think about Mirabella and what went down when she interrupted an official Dark Sovereign meeting by clicking her heels across the floor, sashaying that hourglass figure of hers in there like it was her playground, and the rest of us had to ask her permission to play.
Did it piss me off? Yes.
Did I want to haul her ass out of there? Yes.
Did it turn me the fuck on seeing my wife act like she owned the world, taking on five grown-ass men? Fuck, yes.
A hard cock is probably not the most ideal reaction I should have had toward that entire scenario, but what can I say? My wife’s strength and fearlessness is a potent aphrodisiac for me that shoots straight to my cock.
But then I saw the way she froze this morning after Nunzio’s flowers arrived, and I wanted to set the world on fire for her, slay her demons and eliminate all her fears. I want to be strong for her so she doesn’t have to be, but that’s not what she needs. It took me so long to realize she doesn’t need a knight in shining armor to fight her battles for her. She needs a man to love her, and a beast to fuck her. Even after what she went though, she still trusts me to be that man, to be that beast for her. God, she’s so much mine, it’s ridiculous.
I’m leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette, watching the embers flicker in the darkness when Maximo’s truck pulls up. I suspect he’s still mad at me—probably at the entire fucking world. I went into that meeting expecting everyone’s worst reactions, but I didn’t expect Maximo to lose his shit the way he did. I knew he’d be upset. I just didn’t anticipate to what degree. We’re both strong-willed men passionate about protecting those we love, and we’ve kicked each other’s asses numerous times. The last time being me using his face as a punching bag after my wife got kidnapped.
I was two hundred percent sure it would end with him punching me in the face. And I would have let him. I wouldn’t have fought back because I understand. I get it. If Mira had to have Nunzio’s child and we had to raise a Ferrero kid in this house, it would be the worst test life could ever put any of us through. He’s angry and confused, but unfortunately, I can do nothing to change that. Not now. It has to be this way.
From a distance, I can see the tension in Maximo’s shoulders as he jumps out of the truck. He moves to the back door and pulls it open. A woman jumps from inside the car, hands balled at her sides, and butts into his chest with an angry shout. I watch her struggle against him for a few seconds, swearing and flailing at him like she doesn’t realize she’s only wasting energy. She’s jerking and cursing, trying to kick her way out of his grip. Her defiance would be admirable if it weren’t for her loyalty to Nunzio.
“Keep moving,” Maximo growls at her, his grip on her arm unyielding. I can’t help but feel a twisted satisfaction seeing her squirm under his control.
They disappear through the heavy doors of the mausoleum, and I flick the cigarette butt into a pile of leaves and kick at a patch of thistles. I pull up my collar against the chilly breeze and follow closely behind them. The air inside is cold and damp, the scent of decay and death clinging to every surface. This place has always made my skin crawl, but it serves its purpose well tonight—the perfect prison for our prisoner.
“Here should be good enough,” Maximo says, pushing Briana against one of the cold stone walls. She stumbles but quickly regains her footing, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and defiance.
“Is this where you’re going to kill me?” she spits, her voice echoing off the walls. “Bury me alongside the great Vincenzo Del Rossa?”
“Watch your tongue,” Maximo warns, his fingers digging into her arm. “You’re only here because we need information. But don’t think for a second that means we won’t make you suffer.”
“Go ahead,” Briana sneers. “It won’t change anything. You’ll never find Nunzio.”
“Never say never,” I interject, stepping out of the shadows. I can’t help but smile at the fleeting look of surprise that flickers across her face as she realizes my presence. “Now, let’s see how long that defiance lasts.”
My heart pounds in my chest as I approach Briana, her eyes locked on mine. She’s a cornered animal, but rebellion shimmers in her dark eyes, which only fuels my determination.
“Where is he?” I demand, my voice cold and uncompromising.
“Go to hell,” she spits back, and the venom in her voice sends a shudder down my spine. I have no doubt she’s been well trained by Nunzio himself, taught what to say in situations like these.
“Wrong answer.” I grab her jaw, forcing her to look me in the eye. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know, one way or another. And trust me, the more you resist, the more painful this will be for you.”
“Fuck you,” she snarls, but I can see the flicker of fear in her eyes. Good. She should be afraid.
“Let’s try this again.” I release her jaw and step back, adopting a calm demeanor that belies the storm raging inside me. “Tell me where Nunzio is. Now.”
“Or what?” she challenges, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ll kill me? Torture me? Don’t bother. I’ve already accepted my fate. There’s nothing you can do to break me.”
Goddamn it, why does she have to be so stubborn? My patience is wearing thin, and I can feel my anger bubbling beneath the surface, ready to explode. But I need her to reveal Nunzio’s whereabouts, and losing control won’t help me achieve that goal.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “If you don’t talk willingly, we’ll do this the hard way.”
“Bring it on,” she taunts, her eyes glittering with defiance. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should be,” I warn, my voice low and dangerous. “Because I won’t stop until I find Nunzio.”
Her lips curl into a cruel smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You can try, but you’ll fail. Nunzio is always one step ahead of you. Ask your pretty little wife.” An arrogant grin appears on her face. “Nunzio knows your wife is pregnant.”
“I have no doubt he does.”
“He’s waiting,” she taunts.
“For what?”
“For you to do a paternity test.”
“He won’t be included in those tests.”
She shrugs. “If it’s not yours, it’s his.”
“Maybe my wife and I are in an open relationship, and there are ten other candidates.”
She tsks, shaking her head slowly. “If that baby is his—”
My tether snaps. I launch at her, my hand enclosing her throat, squeezing hard while forcing her back against the wall. She hisses, her lips parting as she struggles for breath.
“If that baby is his, he’ll what?” I challenge.
“Nunzio will…” She chokes as I tighten my grip. “He’ll…he will take…what is rightfully…his. His child…and her.”
Her choked-out words slam against my spine like a goddamn wrecking ball, and I’m trembling with fury as I grab my gun and press it against her temple so fucking hard I could squeeze the metal into her skull. “No one will take her from me again,” I spit out, anger raging through me, spurred by the muted sounds of her whimpers and gasps for air. My finger is on the trigger, heavy and cruel, my fingers around her neck on the verge of crushing her throat. The thought of him taking Mira from me again makes me see nothing but red. I would rather kill this woman in the most brutal way imaginable, go on a massacre through this entire goddamn city before I let that happen.
With a snarl, I squeeze down on the trigger, and Briana closes her eyes, waiting for her execution, when someone places a gentle hand on my back.
“Nicoli,” Mira murmurs behind me, and her voice is like salve on an open wound. “Breathe, my love.”
My hand holding the gun starts to shake, and I’m clenching my jaw, biting down so hard I’m sure my teeth will crack.
“Let me speak with her,” Mira says calmly, her gentle fingers easing around my arm. “Please…Li.”
My eyes close, and her voice, the name she called me, it’s like morphine running through my veins, taming the chaos. I choke on a ragged breath as I let go of Briana’s throat, stepping back. Mira cups my cheek, lifts herself on her toes, and kisses me, her lips like feathers brushing along mine. “I love you,” she whispers, then turns to face the woman now hunched over, trying to get air into her lungs.
My heart is still pounding wildly, but I stare at my wife with new fascination. I’m in awe of her, so confident and in command. The air around her shimmers with authority, and I know Mira is finally becoming the woman she’s meant to be. A queen.
