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Chapter Thirty-Three

MERRICK

Marcello and I take the bleeding pieces of shit by gunpoint to Adriano. He is sitting behind his desk, his face set, his eyes focused, and a smirk playing on his lips when we arrive. I watch as his gaze shifts from Ravet in front of me to connect to my own.

“That happened much faster than I had anticipated,” Adriano mutters.

His tone gives me nothing, although if I had to guess, he’s somewhat impressed by how quickly this shit went down. Marcello dips his chin but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he clears his throat and waits for Adriano to speak.

I’m not really one for rank and such. I lived a life like that with Ravet, and the minute I left, I never thought about it again. Clearly, Adriano is all about power and rank. I guess you would have to be in his position. The way I don’t give an actual fuck about either in this situation is beyond compare.

“We’re good?” I ask as I shove Ravet forward slightly, but I don’t release him.

Ravet lets out a whimper, and I have half a mind to actually shoot him again just for being a pussy. I can see now that, as a kid, this man was scary as fuck, but now that I’m an adult, he’s nothing but an overgrown fucking baby.

There is a moment of silence while Adriano sits back and just watches the scene in front of him. This is his king-on-the-throne moment. I don’t really give a shit. I’m ready to get back to Colette and get the fuck out of this state.

He’s got the politician and Ravet in the palm of his hand. I’m curious to know what he’s going to do with them, but at the same time, as long as Ravet ends up dead and he forgets that Colette exists, I don’t really give a fuck what he does.

“Not yet,” Adriano murmurs.

I shift my gaze to Marcello. His eyes slide to meet mine, and I can tell just by the way he’s looking at me that he did not expect this. Turning my attention back to Adriano, I watch as he stands before walking around his desk, then stops at the front and leans his ass against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You have an attachment to Ravet,” Adriano states.

“Unfortunately,” I grunt, unsure of where this is going exactly.

The last thing I want to do is stand around and have a conversation about me and Ravet, about our past. And I won’t be having that conversation, especially not with Adriano Bellucci.

“I’m not sure I want this to end between us, Steele. I think I was mistaken by writing you off so quickly. You’ve been a great asset to me.”

How did I know that this motherfucker was going to try some fly shit? The answer is easy—he’s Mafia. Give an inch and take a mile. Clearing my throat, I stare at him but refuse to respond to him immediately.

“I think I went about my political advancements all wrong,” he murmurs. “I think I need you to run surveillance and then tell me when I can slide in and take over.”

As much as I want to laugh at the absolute ridiculousness of this entire situation and question it, I don’t. Instead, I arch a brow and tilt my head to the side. It’s funny that Adriano thinks I’ll be doing a goddamn thing for him.

Because I will be goddamned.

Opening my mouth, I start to say just that when there is a noise behind me. A door opens. I reach for my gun as I turn my head and look over my shoulder, but it’s Colette. She’s standing right fucking here, with Grayson behind her, appearing to be annoyed or apologetic, I can’t quite tell.

COLETTE

I don’t know when it became urgent to see Merrick, but before we make it back to the safe house, I know I have to see him. It’s a need and not a want at this point. Thankfully, it doesn’t take much for me to talk Grayson into taking me to him.

Honestly, I’m pretty sure that Grayson doesn’t want to miss out on a single ounce of action, so he’s more than happy to turn the car around and head straight toward the limestone home.

“This could get ugly,” Grayson says as he reaches over and pops the glove box door in front of my knees.

Silently, I watch as he reaches into the compartment and pulls out a gun. He holds the handle out for me, but I don’t take it immediately. Flicking my gaze down to it, I just stare at it for a moment, then slowly lift it to meet his.

“You’re holding this out like you want me to do something with it,” I say.

Grayson snorts before I watch him pull on a couple of things. The gun makes some loud noises, and he hands it back to me. “Shit gets real, all you do is pull the trigger. It’s ready to go.”

“What if I accidentally do it at the wrong time and shoot my foot off or something,” I whisper, my gaze no doubt as horrified-looking as I feel.

“Don’t squeeze the trigger, and that won’t happen,” he deadpans.

I blink, unsure that he’s just said what he has, but he has, and he’s serious. Meanwhile, I’m a trembling, shaking mess. Grayson shakes his head, then his gaze connects to mine, and I suck in a breath, holding it as he speaks.

“Listen, Colette. You don’t have to go in there. You can stay right here and lock the door. I’m going in whether you do or not. My gut is telling me that this is where I need to be.”

I have no doubt that his gut is telling him all kinds of things because mine is screaming at me to do something, but I’m not sure what I can do. Standing up to my father is one thing. Surviving his wrath is another.

Wrapping my fingers around the handle of the gun, I’m careful not to slip my finger where the trigger is, and I open the car door before I unfold from my seat. Standing, I look around for a moment. We’re alone, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t being watched.

As soon as I climb the stairs to the front door, it opens. One of my father’s men stands on the other side, unable to hide his initial surprise at seeing me there in front of him. Wordlessly, he steps to the side and lets us into the house.

I’m surprised, but I refuse to let it show. “They’re in the office,” he murmurs.

Grayson clears his throat, no doubt doing some sort of manly chin lift behind me, but I don’t look to check. Instead, I move onward and forward toward the office. The door is closed when we approach, but I can hear men’s voices and whimpering, which means the gang is all here.

I reach for the handle and tug it down, then push it open before I step inside, Grayson right behind me and ready for whatever is about to come our way, but likely his way because I already know that I’m not going to be good for a damn thing.

“Colette,” my father announces. “You’re here just in time to help me with this deal.”

I would say it’s a lie, that my father would never need me for any kind of deal, business or otherwise, but this entire catastrophe proved otherwise.

“Just do whatever needs to be done and get me to a fucking doctor,” Malcolm grinds out. Nobody responds to him, mainly because I’m pretty sure everyone here knows he will never need a doctor, not today, not ever again.

“What do you want?” the stranger says. His voice is much calmer, his tone more even. “I can give you anything.”

My father pushes off where he’s leaning against the desk and walks over to the stranger. I don’t know who he is or what he does, but he’s clearly important. Of course he is, because nothing about this was happenstance.

Nothing.

“I want to be the deputy secretary of state,” my father announces. I don’t know much about politics, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t going to give anything that high to my father, the head of a Mafia family.

“Impossible,” the man says.

My father smirks. “You’re the secretary of state. Make it happen, or everything goes public.”

Shit.

I didn’t know that.

Something flutters in my belly. It flips and flops, then clenches. My father sold me to Malcolm for a chance to get into politics. And Malcolm was going to sell me to get whatever it was he wanted.

“What does the secretary of state do?” I ask, my voice coming out in a whisper. It’s so low that I almost don’t hear it myself, let alone think that anyone else has.

“It’s my job to carry out foreign policies and the like,” he says.

“Human trafficking?” I ask.

The room goes quiet. You could hear a pin drop. I’m not sure who else knew this or thought that it was going to happen, but the pieces fall into place. One by one. Malcolm, that woman talking about the boys and the fact that Merrick was trafficked as a boy. Flicking my gaze to my father, I ask him one simple question.

“Do you traffic children?”

He shakes his head, his eyes finding mine. “If I did, it wouldn’t be your fucking business, Colette. But no, I don’t.”

I believe him, but I’m not about to tell him that. Instead, I lift the gun and point the barrel at him. He smirks at the sight, no doubt thinking that I won’t do it. But I am his daughter, which means that at least some of him flows through my veins. And the power of the gun isn’t as scary as it seemed just moments ago. On the contrary, it feels good.

Damn good.

So I squeeze the trigger just like Grayson told me to do. And I watch as my father’s expression changes from smug to shock, then nothingness as he falls to the floor. I don’t know what happens after that.

Chaos.

But my mind is, for the first time in my entire life—calm.