A lump forms in my throat, and no matter how many times I try swallowing, it won’t go away.
“When my car hit the water thanks to your sudden attack, I lost consciousness. While you were being rescued by your knight in shining armor, I lay there in the water, dying.”
I shake my head. “They couldn’t find you.”
“Because my own men had already dragged me out by the time your precious Marcello even had the guts to come looking!” His voice is filled with pain. “Now I’m in this chair for life.”
When the pain becomes too much to look at, I look away.
“LOOK AT ME!”
The sheer rage in his voice forces our eyes to lock.
“You’re looking at a man who can’t ever walk again. All because you couldn’t just stay quiet and be a good girl until we got home,” he mutters, shaking his head as much as I am. “You did this to me.”
“No …” I murmur, but I know he’s right.
I did.
I was the one who wrapped my hands around his neck, hoping to stop him from dragging me back to a place I didn’t want to go. Hoping that I could fix the mistake I’d made by coming along for the ride while Marcello was defending his property. Hoping that I could make Frank pay for what he’d done to my real father.
And I knew then that it would come back to bite me in the ass.
Because I am guilty.
I tried to kill him.
“Good thing you didn’t succeed.” Suddenly, Molly comes waltzing back inside, and she stands behind him, clutching the wheelchair’s handles with confidence and pride.
My eyes widen. “So you … knew?”
She doesn’t seem surprised one bit. “Of course, I knew what you’d done to my sweet darling. Do you think my own people wouldn’t tell me what happened to my husband?” She snorts. “You’re too gullible and naïve, Harper. No wonder you ended up in Marcello’s hands.”
My muscles tighten at that remark. “So all that time, you were just being nice to me to trick me.”
“Trick you?” She raises her brows. Frank reaches up to grab her hand, and the two share a moment like he needs to calm her down because she’s been offended or something.
“Your mother has tried to ease you into the idea of staying, but you refused to play the good daughter,” Frank says.
“Look, I’m sorry for what I did—”
Frank raises a trembling hand. “Stop. I don’t need your excuses.”
“What we need is our daughter back,” Molly adds.
I hold my breath, unsure of how to respond.
“And we’ll do anything to make it happen,” she says, lowering her gaze as though she wants to show she means it.
No wonder she locked me up in here.
If she can’t have me by being nice, she’ll do it by force instead.
“So you’ll have me hate you instead,” I say.
“If that’s what it takes,” Frank responds.
My face turns sour. “Then I take it back. I’m not sorry.”
He smiles at me like some twisted motherfucker. “It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that you failed.”
That hits me hard.
“Because not only did I survive … but you’re also in Irish hands now. And that was my goal all along.”
Frank looks up at Molly, who gazes down at him lovingly before leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead, and it makes me nauseous.
But then she glares back up at me along with Frank, both of them instilling a certain kind of fear that not even Marcello could make me feel.
“All we need to do now …” Frank balls his only properly working hand into a fist. “Is to destroy Marcello.”
Marcello
Claudio’s voice interrupts my workout. “You’re not going to like this.”
I place the dumbbell on the floor and sit up. My head is pounding from the effort. I’ve been in the gym for more than two hours now, and my whole body is screaming with exhaustion.
But it’s the only way to drown out the demons in my mind.
“Not going to like what?” I ask.
He’s standing in the doorway, looking grim. “What I’m about to tell you.”
“Are we going to play games, or are you going to spit it out?” I snarl.
“We think Matteo is missing.”
“Missing?” My jaw clenches tight.
He’s a good lieutenant. Sharp, cautious, proactive. He’s been with the Family for a decade now, and he’s been loyal down to his bones for every second of that time.
“Taken, probably.”
“That’s a lot of uncertainty, Claudio. I need better than that,” I reply.
He nods and sinks to a seat on another bench. “The eyewitnesses were civilians, so they’re a little shaken up by what they saw, and the information isn’t one-hundred-percent reliable. But it appears that a group of armed men stormed into the laundromat uptown we use as the front for the cocaine packaging operation.”
“The one Matteo oversees,” I fill in.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“So someone just barged into my territory and dragged out one of my best lieutenants.”
Claudio nods and folds his hands in his lap.
I eye him, waiting for him to fill in the last piece of crucial information.
“Who the fuck did it?” I demand.
He sighs once more. “The eyewitnesses said they heard Irish accents.”
I close my eyes and breathe against the rising tide of fury in my chest. Fucking Frank.
I’ll have his fucking head on a chopping board for this.
Only when I’m calm enough to speak do I open my eyes again.
I’m done with playing games.
Done with this motherfucker taunting me.
He wants to get me riled up? Fine.
“We’re going to go get Matteo,” I say at once. “Now.”
An hour later, we’re in the woods outside a massive, sprawling estate. There’s a huge black gate encircling the property and greenery everywhere. But it’s the tiny details I notice most: cameras at strategic points. Guards walking precise circuits along the perimeter. Motion sensors attached to floodlights, ready to give away our position if we put one toe out of place.
Half a dozen of my best men are crouched behind me. We’re all armed and dressed in black tactical gear.
“Marcello, are you sure you want to do this?” Claudio asks.
“Stop trying to keep me from fighting,” I reply. “I’m your fucking Don. You answer to me.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, clearing his throat.
“You’re sure this is it?” I ask.
He nods. “All signs point to yes.”
I tighten my fist. This is it. Time to shove a knife up someone’s throat and break some skulls.
“One of our own, Matteo, is in there. Taken by our enemies,” I say in an effort to rile up my men too. “We’re gonna fucking get him back. Kill any Irish you find. Take no prisoners. Get what we came for. If you find Harper … call me. Am I understood?”
They respond as one, “Yes, Don Marcello.”
Satisfied, I pivot back to face the mansion. “Follow me.”