Page 25

I arch an eyebrow and try to keep my cool. “Oh, nothing. Just enjoying the show.”

Alonzo mutters something that sounds liketroiaunder his breath.

I can’t believe this jerk just called me a slut.

I keep my reaction in check because I don’t want him to know I understand Italian.

“Watch your fucking mouth,stronzo,” Kota seethes.

Alonzo being called an asshole is honestly pretty fitting. I appreciate the way Kota stands up to Alonzo. Maybe I need to be on hisgood side, he seems like the only one who’s thinking straight. Maybe if I can win him over, he’ll help me get out of this mess.

Alonzo’s lips press into a pout, his shoulders slumping like a bratty kid who didn’t get his way. His arms cross over his chest, and he lets out a loud, dramatic huff before turning away from me, facing forward where Alessio and Antonio are locked in what looks like a very serious argument.

I try to catch what they’re saying, but their voices are too low. Alessio looks like he’s about to puke, his usual olive complexion looks ghostly pale. Then he does something I don’t expect. He drags a hand through his golden hair, and his fingers grip the strands like he’s trying to physically hold himself together.

Okay… what the hell is going on?

Antonio says something else, and Alessio jerks a stiff nod before turning on his heel and stalking toward the car behind us. I watch him go, brows knitting together. So, it’s not just me having a bad night.

We drive for what feels like forever. The second the car slows to a stop, my stomach twists. I don’t need to see where we are to know I’m not going to like it.

Then the headlights sweep over the tarmac, and I see the jet, a damn jet.

If my heart wasn’t slamming against my ribs, I might be impressed, but nope. Absolutely fucking not.

Alonzo quickly opens the door and steps out. He’s barely taken two steps before rounding the car to my side. The moment his hand reaches for me, I lose it. I kick, thrash, twisting so hard against the seatbelt that the strap digs into my ribs. A muffled scream rips from my throat, hopefully the whole goddamn airport hears me. I am not getting on that plane.

Alonzo growls something in Italian, fumbling with the buckle while trying to keep me pinned. He’s strong, annoyingly so, but I am not making this easy for him.

My foot flies out, and I land a solid kick to his thigh. It’s not the balls, but it’s close enough to make him stumble back with a sharp hiss.

Damn it. I should’ve aimed better.

His face twists in irritation, and I know that just pissed him off. But I don’t care. My pulse pounds in my ears, my breath ragged as I glare up at him, body wound tight, ready to fight like hell.

Alonzo’s face twists in frustration, nostrils flaring as he spits out curses under his breath. “Damn it,stupida puttana,” he growls, barely hanging on to his last shred of patience.

His arm shoots up. And shit, I know what’s coming next.I squeeze my eyes shut, my whole body locking up as I brace for the hit. But it never comes.

Instead, there’s a sharp clap, but it’s not skin against my skin.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Kota growls. My eyes snap open just in time to see Alonzo frozen mid-swing, his wrist still caught in Kota’s grip. His face goes rigid, and his jaw is clenched so tight, it looks like he might crack a molar.

I let out a shaky breath. Thank God for Kota. Alonzo’s a total hothead, but Kota seems more level-headed and calm, if that’s a thing for mafia killers. He’s the kind of man who picks his battles. And right now, he’s picked this one to keep me from getting my face rearranged.

“I got her,” Kota says. But he doesn’t let go of Alonzo’s wrist.

Alonzo glares at me, and my stomach sinks to my butt. If Kota wasn’t standing between us, I’d probably be picking myself up off the ground right now. I swallow hard, but my voice comes out small and muffled. “Thanks.” Kota doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he bends slightly, clearly intending to pick me up himself.

But before he can, the devil himself steps forward. “I got her.” Every muscle in my body tenses as he moves toward me like a predator closing in on its prey.

I don’t get a chance to react. Before I even process what’s happening, his hands are on me. I let out a startled yelp as I’m lifted out of the car, my stomach flipping from the sudden movement. In a blink, I’m thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

What the actual fuck?

“Put me down, you asshole!” I shriek, twisting and bucking as much as I can, but his arm clamps tighter around my thighs like a damn steel bar. Alessio doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t stumble or react; he doesn’t care that I’m thrashing like a lunatic over his shoulder. If anything, I swear to God, the bastard chuckles.And not in a funny way. No, this one’s sadistic and angry.

His grip locks around my waist, and even through the sheet, I feel the heat radiating off him, he’s pissed. His whole body is tense, like he’s holding back from exploding. I can practically feel the fury vibrating off him. He doesn’t have to say a word. It’s the way he moves and holds me so tightly that it screams louder than if he’d just yell in my face. My stomach knots, and panic sneaks in, despite my best efforts to stay calm. This isn’t just about control anymore, it’s about payback.