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"Vito de Luca is none of your business," Bash said. "I told you. I'm taking care of it. And I'm taking care of it. You recover, okay?"
I swallowed, my throat dry. "Yeah," I said. "Yeah, okay."
Chapter Twenty-Two: Hassan
Iraced downstairs. I didn't even call the elevator, I just didn't want Sebastian to see the gruesome head in our lobby.
My heart was pounding in my chest, the same rhythm as my feet against the stairwell. The thing about living in a high-rise was that it also had its disadvantages. Like having to run through twenty-two floors because the elevator was too damn slow.
Reaching the ground floor, I pushed open the door with a force that sent it crashing against the wall. Eyes wide, I took in the sight before me. A large box in the middle of our pristine lobby, blood seeping from its sides to form a grotesque pool around it.
Another damn message from Vito De Luca.
I couldn't let Sebastian see this. Not with everything else he had seen. He didn't deserve any of this.
Feeling numb, I moved to the box and wrenched it open. My stomach churned at the sight of the severed head. I'd already seen it, of course; the fake pizza delivery guy had made sure to show it to me through the intercom screen. But this had, at one point, been Lee. This had, at one point, been one of my men.
And now I was holding his head, blood dripping down my skin and on the cardboard below it.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at Lee's face. It was pale and lifeless, a grim reminder of the price we were paying in this war with Vito De Luca. His eyes were closed, as though he'd drifted off to sleep, but his mouth... his mouth was twisted in an eternal scream. Jesus, this was so fucking grim. I'd been so worried about Sebastian that I hadn't even asked Skylar or Zane where our men were after the op.
I reached out a hand, my fingers trembling as they brushed the cold skin of his cheek. "I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice choked with grief and guilt. "I should've been there."
But apologies were hollow offerings at a time like this. They didn't bring back the dead or heal the broken. They were just words strung together to try and make sense of a world that had gone mad.
It took me a second to realize that there was something pinned to the side of his head, a thumbtack pressed into his skin.
I reached out, pulling the thumbtack free and flinching at the squelch it made as it came loose. Turning it over in my hands, I realized it was holding a Polaroid in place. I almost dropped it when I realized what was on the image.
It was us. Bash, Justice, Skylar, Zane, and me. All of our faces were crossed out in red marker, with the words "one down, four to go" scrawled underneath. The photo had been taken at Bash and Justice's wedding–we had all been so happy, so carefree then. It felt like a lifetime ago. It hadn't even been a day.
This wasn't just a declaration of war from Vito De Luca. This was a promise–a vow that he wouldn't stop until we were all lying in our graves just like Lee.
Panic welled up inside me like a tidal wave; I had to warn the others. But just as I reached for my phone to call Bash, it buzzed in my hand. It was Justice.
I quickly accepted it, my heart pounding in my chest.
Justice's face filled up the screen, her brown eyes wide with terror. She was at the hospital, the sterile white backdrop a stark contrast against her dark hair. Something was wrong; I could see it in her eyes.
"Justice, we need to--" I started, but Justice cut me off.
"Hassan, I need you to listen carefully," she said hastily. Fear laced every syllable and her gaze darted anxiously over her shoulder. "Get Sebastian..."
The phone jostled and Vito De Luca's face filled the screen, a wicked grin spread across his features. My heart dropped in my chest. In the matter of a few seconds, several realizations came to me. First, they weren't in Zane's room, they were somewhere else; it looked like a lobby, but it was clearly private.
Second, I couldn't see Bash anywhere, and third, Justice seemed to be his captive. He was holding her free hand in place behind her back, and I assumed he had a gun pointed at her. His eyes were cold as ice as he spoke, the amusement in his voice making my blood run cold.
I could see Skylar's tense back over Vito's shoulder as he worked on something–or rather, someone–on the ground.
"Like the wedding?" Vito said, smugness dripping from every word. "I thought I'd send you guys a little wedding present."
The sound of Justice's low sob echoed across the phone line, causing my stomach to twist. My heart pounded in my chest, echoing the ruthlessness of Vito's voice.
"Bash is quite indisposed at the moment," Vito chuckled, giving Bash's body a nonchalant kick.
Justice’s mouth tightened into a hard line of determination, her eyes burning with a mix of fear and defiance.
"Now give me the boy," Vito demanded, his voice taking on an icy edge.