Page 47

L eone

She’s already heading toward the basement stairs before I finish my coffee.

The baby’s in her arms, swaddled in that pale blue blanket with the little gold stars stitched into the edges. The one she told Maria she wanted to keep forever, even when he’s grown.

Milo and I exchange a look, and he mutters, “She’s not really going to…?”

But she is.

Of course she is.

We follow, wondering why she needs our son to take Igor his breakfast.

She doesn’t wait for either of us. Her pace is steady, not hurried. She walks like a queen descending to court, not a woman carrying an infant into the tomb of her torture chamber.

The basement smells the same. Always does, like mildew, rust, and rot.

Reaching the bottom, Fallon stands waiting for me to unlock the door. “No!” I tell her, reaching for my son, she turns, refusing to hand him over. She lifts her chin.

“Open it,” she demands. I glance at Milo behind her who is also watching worriedly.

“Merda,” I mutter, opening the door. She goes to walk in and I stop her, entering first to ensure he doesn't try anything.

Igor is already awake. He sits up and the chain rattles against the bolt as we approach, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t lunge.

He just stares at Fallon.

Dead-eyed. Defeated.

Igor doesn’t move.

Fallon walks in and stands a few feet from him, and I position myself between them both in case. Fallon, unperturbed, continues rocking Luca gently in her arms. “Say hi,” she tells the baby, her voice calm and singsong.

Igor’s lips part, no words come out. His eyes land on the child. Then flick up to Fallon’s face. He doesn’t curse. Doesn’t growl. Just stares.

He looks… small.

Milo shifts beside me, uneasy. “What the hell is she doing?” he whispers.

“I think,” I say, “she’s about to bury the past.”

Fallon calls out softly, “Maria?”

Maria steps carefully down the stairs, eyes darting nervously when she peers in with a tray in her hands.

She moves straight to Fallon, sets the tray down on the table, and takes baby Luca in her arms, pressing a soft kiss to his head, and rocking him gently.

The tension in my body instantly leaves once he is out of the room.

Stepping back a little, I watch as she pulls over a small table on wheels, setting up a breakfast that looks like it belongs in a palace, not a prison cell.

Bacon. Sausage. Hash browns. Scrambled eggs. Toast stacked high. Coffee still steaming in the porcelain mug.

Igor looks at it like it might disappear.

For the first time, he scoots forward. Slowly. Willingly. No screaming. No fight. He lets the chain rattle behind him and lowers himself into the chair.

Fallon doesn’t even blink.

She drags her usual metal chair across the floor and takes her seat in front of him.

He watches her for a long moment, then finally he speaks.

In English.

“Last meal?” he asks, voice cracked and heavy. Milo and I glance at each other, we weren’t even sure he spoke English. I suppose we now have our answer.

Fallon smiles.

“You’ve only been waiting months,” she says, and scoops a bite of eggs onto a spoon. She feeds him. One bite. Then another.

He eats like a starving man. Like a man who’s finally accepted that his time’s up. Milo fidgets near the wall, hand already brushing the butt of his pistol.

But Fallon’s not done.

She lets him eat every bite. Sits in silence while he finishes. Then Igor leans back and sighs like he’s satisfied. “Cigarette?” he asks.

She stands without a word and walks toward me. My jacket buttons undone, she helps herself and rifles through my pockets and finds my cigarettes.

Igor watches her like a man hoping for mercy.

She lights one. Walks back to him. Places it between his lips. He inhales.

Then coughs violently.

She plucks it out of his mouth, waits for him to recover, and gives it back.

He smokes it all the way down to the filter. When he’s finished, he closes his eyes. “Please,” he breathes. “You’ve proven your point. Just kill me already.”

Fallon doesn’t blink.

She turns to me.

And reaches for my suit, I grip her wrist. The look she gives me makes me let her go.

Her hand slides the knife free from where I always keep it sheathed at my side. My pulse slows.

“Fallon,” I say sharply, I was expecting her to go for my gun, not my knife. A bullet is quick, instant. A knife, she has to get close. My hand closes around hers over the handle, wanting to take it from her.

She keeps her grip tight.

Milo is already moving toward her. “What are you doing?”

Fallon’s eyes harden, she says nothing.

Milo grabs her wrist. “You don’t have to do this. Let me?—”

“No,” she answers calmly, and I don’t like it. She doesn’t belong down here, and I have hated every time she comes down here. What she is asking us to let her do now, though… I shake my head.

“I’m not asking,” she says, holding my gaze.

Milo looks at me, eyes wide, silently asking me to fix this.

I step forward, grip her chin, and tilt her face up toward mine.

“Let one of us do it,” I murmur. “You don’t want his blood on your hands.”

Her jaw clenches. “I already have it there.”

I look into her eyes and know right then—she won’t back down.

So I nod to Milo. “Let her try.”

He hesitates… then slowly releases her wrist.

I follow behind her, ready to take the knife, knowing she'll falter. I know how wrong it’ll feel in her grip—the same hands that cradle our son, that run over my chest when she rides my cock. The same hands that have only been gentle, even when the world around her has been rough.

The blade shakes in her hand, and I grab it. Her trembling stops. “You don't have to do this part, you've done enough.” I lean down and whisper from behind her.

She says nothing, and when I try to take it from her, she refuses to let go. I sigh, deciding to let her try.

Igor snorts. “You’re gonna do it? You? You know how much you want me dead, girl, just hand it over to one of your husbands and be done with it. I don’t have time to watch some little woman poke me to death. You’re no killer. You’re a woman,” he laughs.

He smirks before continuing when Fallon steps that close, he is forced to stare up at her.

“I'm no ordinary woman,” she tells him, and I furrow my brows as she steps between his legs. I expect him to fight her, kick her away, but he has long accepted his death.

“Really?” he snickers. “What type of woman are you, then?” He seems to find her words hilarious.

“A Pressutti one,” she spits at him. And he laughs, glancing at me.

“Put your woman back on a leash before she hurts herself, Leone. You and I both know women create life,” he sneers. “They don’t take it.”

Fallon plunges the knife straight into his chest, and I jump, not expecting her to go through with it.

Milo sucks in a sharp breath. I don’t move, frozen in horror.

Igor chokes on his own blood, eyes going wide. Fallon doesn’t flinch as she tilts her head, watching him choke.

She leans in closer, twisting the blade slowly as she drives it deeper.

“Exactly,” she says, her voice even. “We create life. Until someone threatens that life.”

She shoves the knife deeper, all the way to the hilt—blood bubbles at his lips and spills down his chin, dripping on her hands and arms.

“You threatened to take my arms, so I could watch my baby grow without ever holding him. So I took yours. And made you watch him grow inside me.”

She jerks the knife free.

Igor gasps, gurgles, and slumps forward.

She watches him die.

Not with pleasure. Not with tears. With a scary calmness.

I glance at Milo who stares at her stunned; I'm stunned myself but I now understand what he did to piss her off.

I thought it must have been because he shot her mother, that was all she let slip all these months, he killed her mother.

She never told us this part, and I understand why; one of us would have killed him long before she got the chance.

Finally, she lets the knife clatter to the floor. Turns back to us, eyes calm, chest rising and falling like she just finished a walk in the park, as she moves to the small sink and washes her hands.

She glances at Maria, who’s standing frozen at the edge of the room with Luca, horrified at what Fallon just did.

“Coffee?” she asks Maria, who can only nod and stare at her like she doesn’t recognize the woman standing in front of her.

Fallon then walks out, leaving both Milo and me stunned.