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JULIET

Princess of the Albanian Mafia?

Was this a joke?

“You’re wrong.” My voice sounded weak and pathetic, but I couldn’t accept his words. I wasn’t anyone important.

“My father always focused on the home country, allowing others to rule our American clan,” the man continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “But that was a grave mistake. I had a bigger vision, an international vision. The Italians didn’t know, but killing Arben was the greatest gift they could have given me. With him out of the way and the Albanian faction in America crumbling, I was ready to make our move. I just needed my father out of the way.”

He looked out the window, deep in thought, and I took the opportunity to glance behind my shoulder. We weren’t in the air yet—the airplane door was open and showed a tantalizing sliver of blue sky.

I was surrounded and unarmed. I doubted I would make it to my feet before they stopped me, but could I live with myself if I didn’t even try? I’d read somewhere that you should never let a kidnapper take you to a second location. If this plane took off, I would never be found.

Even if there was someone looking for me.

I swallowed down the painful lump in my throat. What were the odds Romeo would have ended up in my shop, of all the stores in New York City? How had the Albanians breached the apartment, which Romeo had said was impenetrable? Why had he taken such an interest in me? Because he loves you, a soft voice inside me said. But that had never made sense to me when my life had shown me over and over how unloveable I truly was.

No. This man was lying. Romeo would never betray me.

But what if he did? whispered the insidious voice in the back of my head.

A flight attendant appeared and shut the plane door with a loud thunk , sealing my fate.

“Do you know how I got my nickname?” the man asked.

I kept my eyes on my clenched hands, refusing to answer, but he continued, undeterred.

“As a young boy, our father would send us out hunting. We weren’t allowed to return until we brought back a kill. I spent many nights half-frozen in the woods, trying and failing to catch my prey. Death was always near, waiting for me in the wings, but I eluded him, and it made me strong. We were only allowed to eat meat we had skinned and butchered ourselves, and I quickly became an expert. As I grew older, I used my skills against our enemies. I think it’s rather poetic that my father was killed by the monster he created. Skinned and butchered in his own bed.”

Bile rose in the back of my throat. The Butcher.

“Now that my father was out of the way, I ascended as Krye and could enact my visionary plan to take over New York. One night I was looking through archives and found information about the long-abandoned New York City tunnels—old subway lines that lay forgotten under the ground. Of course, you sold me the book that revealed the full map of the city’s underground—tunnels and catacombs that would allow me to navigate the city undetected. So, you see, you’ve already been tremendously useful to me. And in the coming days, you will do even more.”

I glanced up just in time to see the Butcher’s menacing smile and the flash of a gun before it struck the side of my head, knocking me out.