Page 16 of Hateful Vows

TWELVE

DANTE

M otherfucking kids got another text. This time saying I was the target and the prize was double what it had been for my father. I won’t lie, my ego was stroked a little, but dammit, the gall of the asshole responsible. I haven’t even been on the throne for a month. Give me a break.

That’s why I never wanted this role. No matter how much I despised my father and his archaic views on marriage, homosexuality, women—hell, pretty much anything—with him alive, I didn’t have to think about shit.

Andrea Capaldi traced the text. The GPS signal directs towards Milford, a small town hours away from London.

It used to be a known port shipping coal but it’s pretty much dead now, with dozens of abandoned buildings in the shipyard.

It holds a special place in my memories and I dread going there, however necessary it is.

The last time I was there was for a holiday with my parents.

A lifetime ago. Gio was still alive. We played in abandoned ships all-day long, and got into trouble with our mum when we came home with scraped knees and ripped clothes.

“Tino, call the team. We’re going hunting,” I tell my second-in-command who nods and picks up his phone on his way out of my office.

I open a panel inside one of the library doors to reveal a hidden compartment with tactical gear and more weapons that I’d need but I don’t want to go in there blind. I’m strapping a bullet-proof vest across my chest when I feel her presence. She’s hard to miss.

My precious little wife’s all dressed in black, leggings following the athletic curves of her legs and ass, and my eyes widen when I take in her bullet-proof vest and tight chignon.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes, leaning on the threshold and crossing her arms. My question obviously annoyed her. Her attitude gets me hard. I want to get her on her knees for the insolence. I will my dick to calm down and resume my preparations.

“I asked you a question, Irina.”

“Since it’s a stupid one, I won’t answer it.”

If I keep clenching like I am right now, I’ll pop a tooth. I take a deep breath and turn to her, approaching with determined steps. I grab her throat, revelling in the way it bobs against my fingers. “You’re not coming with us. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Please,” she mocks. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

I know she can take care of herself, I’ve seen first hand how fast she moves. She’s been trained.

“You’ll get me killed.”

“That’s a bonus.”

I squeeze a little harder around her slender neck and her eyes take on a darker shade.

“You’re gonna distract me and my men.”

“That’s a you problem,” she breathes, her lips parting on a breath that gets stuck on its way into her lungs. Her manicured hands clasp mine, but she isn’t trying to dislodge me. I must be hallucinating. There’s no way she’s putting more pressure.

My vicious wife has been avoiding me since our wedding two days ago.

We’ve slept in separate bedrooms at my condo.

I’ve mostly been working from my father’s mansion, and she’s been leaving early and coming home late.

I know nothing of her routine and habits and that grates me the wrong way.

I want to burrow under her skin until all she thinks about is me.

Everywhere she looks, I want to be there and possess her thoughts and her mind.

But she’s elusive. Used to blending into the shadows, unseen and wraith-like.

I take a step back and she clears her throat, squaring her shoulders.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” she says.

My head drops back, eyes to the sky. She’s pushing my buttons. Yet, I follow her all the way out onto the front of my father’s house—now mine. Ours .

Tino raises a brow.

“Don’t even mention it,” I grumble and open the car door for Irina before getting inside after her. And what if my eyes linger on her tight body all dressed for murder and mayhem?

She’s my wife. I can do whatever I want.

“ T wo men inside, three outside, walking the perimeters, but Dante, I’ve never seen them before,” Tino says next to me as we observe the shipyard from our hidden spot on the hill above.

I take the binoculars from him and don’t recognise those guys either. I’d bet everything I own that they’re only mercenaries.

“Let’s advance and take them out.”

I’ve barely finished my sentence when Irina settles on the ground next to me, opening a black bag and starting to assemble something.

“What is she doing?” Tino asks before he whistles in awe. And I’m not far behind.

Because Irina just assembled a fucking sniper rifle in under three minutes.

“That’s fucking impressive,” Tino says and I slap the back of his head.

Irina’s lips purse with contentment. “That’s how you give your wife a compliment, Dante. Learn from Tino.”

The bastard grins. I don’t like this new-found bout of friendship. She should be content with me, not my best friend.

Irina gets into position.

“On your order, boss.”

I growl at the pet-name. My body doesn’t care about the edge of derision in her voice.

Everything about this woman makes me hard but knowing what it takes to become a sharp-shooter, that’s the real turn on. My wife isn’t simply the most venomous creature I know, she’s also the smartest and would probably wipe the floor with my ass if I let her take the advantage. I hope she does.

I nod.

“Keep your phone close by, sposa mia . I’ll call when we’re ready to storm inside.”

She doesn’t look up but takes her phone from her pocket, setting it up next to her, on the parapet of the wall she fixed the weapon on.

I take it as agreement and Tino, his team of five and I make quick work of getting closer to the building entrance.

I ring Irina. “Now.”

The men barely make a sound as they collapse to the floor. The seven of us move as a unit towards the metallic door of the shipyard. Blood spreads underneath one of the guards we pass, a clean shot through the head.

One of Tino’s men opens the door. It’s not locked.

It should be locked.

“I hate this,” one of the men murmurs behind me and I have to agree. This feels like a fucking trap.

Our stealth is a testimony of our years of training as we move into the vast space.

Tino’s team clears the corners but there isn’t anything to find.

No ship graces the belly of the building.

The only visible potential threat is a form in the middle.

I can’t make out what it is with the darkness of the space.

We move slowly, but once my eyes are accustomed to the dark, there’s no mistaking the two corpses on the floor, in a puddle of their own crimson blood. They’re face down, next to each other, arranged in a macabre display.

My heart beats in my ears. Everyone I care about is accounted for. So why does a sick feeling spread into my chest and squeeze like a vine?

I turn the first man face up.

Venti’s weathered face greets me, his eyes still open and bloodshot.

The other man next to him is leaner, smaller. “No,” I breathe.

I swallow the bile that threatens to make its way out. The other man’s face is too fucking young.

Matteo Venti. Venti’s oldest son and Francisco’s brother.

“Shit,” Tino exclaims behind me.

The sign of the cross escapes me.

I close Matteo’s eyes first. Then his father’s. I try to remember if Venti had a wife. If little Francisco will have someone to hold onto where he buries his father and brother. I didn’t cry when my own father died but delivering the news of pain on someone that young, that has me shed a tear.

Light steps echo behind me, traces of Shalimar floating in the air.

“Who are they?” Irina asks.

“Two of our men.” Tino is the one to answer.

Something doesn’t fucking add up. Venti wasn’t even high up in the organisation, and I threatened him not two weeks ago.

They weren’t in my inner circle though I’ve seen the kid around the grounds of my estate on Mondays.

They didn’t have anything to report last week, but when they did receive another text, it’s Francisco who told me, not Matteo.

I search their pockets, starting with the Signore Venti.

A paper is folded neatly in Matteo’s front pocket of his too-big suit.

I like the chase. How many of your men do you think I can kill before you find me?

“Fuck!”

I straighten and pull at my hair, throwing the paper away. It falls on the blood and Irina picks it up.

“ Blyat .”

If even my cold-hearted Ice Queen swears, it’s not good news. She gives the paper to Tino who frowns and clicks his tongue.

After calling for reinforcements and Capaldi’s security team, we find the phone that sent the second message, barely hidden in a crack in the wall.

The set up wasn’t hidden and I walked right into it like a fawn taking its first steps.

The embarrassment grows to anger and resentment in minutes and I drive back to my house in silence, ignoring everyone and locking myself up in the gym to expel that energy out of my body.