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“Take another step, and I’ll break her neck,” Marco warns, and Alessa pleads with her eyes. “Tell your men to put their guns down, too, Dominic.” Marco tugs Alessa’s neck, and she groans in pain.
“Do it, Dominic,” Alessa says. I signal TJ, and he tells the men to lower their guns.
“And because of that, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.” He chuckles, low and bitter. “The RICO case? It’s basically wrapped. All that’s left is me sending a few files and taking the stand. If I don’t, they’ll keep freezing accounts. But if I do?” He leans in. “The Cosa Nostra crumbles. And it’ll be all thanks to me.”
“Dominic,” Alessa calls. Do it, she mouths.
“Alessa.” This time, it’s me who calls to her. And with one look, she understands. “You’re okay.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, tears cascading down her face as she slowly reaches for the gun beneath her shorts. Alessa lunges, sinking her teeth into the torn flesh of her father’s wrist. Marco howls, but she doesn’t stop—she bites down harder until blood floods her mouth.
A sickening squelch and warm blood splatter across her face and shirt. Marco’s scream rips through the air as he jerks back, shoving her away. Alessa spits his blood onto the ground, wiping her mouth, gun in hand.
I shoot. Not to kill—that’s not my job. But I make sure he won’t get up anytime soon.
BANG.
Marco screams. His leg explodes with blood. He crashes to the ground, clawing at the wound. I reach Alessa as TJ and the boys snap their pieces back up. Blood seeps through her shirt.
“You don’t have to do this,” I murmur. “I can do it for you.”
She shakes her head. “No.” Then she steps toward Marco, who sneers through his pain.
“I tried with you, Dad. I really did,” she mimics his words. Her voice is cold, but there’s something raw beneath it.
The gun in her hand doesn’t waver.
“But the thing is,” she breathes, “every time I look at you, I remember. I remember how you took everything from me. You killed my mother. The only good thing in my life. And then you left me. You fed me to the wolves.”
“Alessa,” he chokes out. “Please, sweetheart.” She raises the gun, leveling it at his head.
“Kiss her for me,” she whispers.
Then she pulls the trigger.
The shot rings out. Marco’s body jerks once, then goes still, a perfect hole between his eyes. Alessa doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t cry. I step forward and take the gun from her hand.
“Alessa,” I say softly. She turns to me, her eyes clearer than I’ve seen them since we met.
“Take me upstairs,” she says, voice steady. “I want to go home.”
I wrap my arm around her, guiding her away from the mess on the floor.
The woman who fought me when she first got here just put a bullet in her old man’s skull to protect what’s ours. She chose this life. Chose me. The queen to my king.
And God help any poor bastard who tries to take her from me now.
EPILOGUE
Alessa
ThreeWeeksLater.
The first wave of nausea hits before I even open my eyes. My body, apparently, has no interest in letting me forget what comes next. Life. Growth. A future.
A future I took back from my father three weeks ago.
“I fucking hate this.”