Page 104 of Luciano

Glancing down, I watched her desperation and the will to live move her thin lips. I never said I’d let her live, but I’d spare her choking on her own blood.

Her lips moved, her voice faint as she tried to give me the answer. I dropped down onto the dirt, my knees digging into it, my face leaning close to hers, I could smell blood on her breath.

“Where is my woman?” I snarled, shaking her. “Where is she?”

“Luciano.” Cassio kneeled down beside me, his hand on my shoulder. I turned to meet his gaze and found him holding out a needle.

The rawness… it shattered through me dragging me under, drowning me. The drawing inside my chest spreads, clawing the hole deep and burying itself into its darkness. Grace was my light.

Grace is my light. I need her.

Our son needs her.

Nonno needs her.

We need her.

“You fucking bitch,” I hissed. “Where is my wife? Or I swear to God, I’ll keep you alive so I can torture you over and over again for the rest of your miserable life.”

“She shot me.” Her voice was barely audible.

My Grace. My sweet wife. She shot her grandmother.

“I bet you deserved it,vedma,” Alexei spat out, his towering frame nudging her legs, kicking them around like the piece of trash she was. He looked like a fucking psychopath, or an angel of death, towering over her like that. He called her awitch, which she truly was.

“Where is my wife, you bitch?” I shouted into her face. She and Alphonso cost my mother’s and sister’s lives. I wouldn’t allow her to take my wife from me too. The mother of my son. “What happened to her?”

“Benito,” she rasped faintly. “Astor beach house.”

Steeling my jaw, I lifted my arm and aimed my gun at her head. “Rot in hell,” I told her coolly and pulled the trigger. Her body slumped into the dirt. “Quick death was more than you deserved.”

I slid my Glock back in its holster and turned to face the men.

“Connecticut,” I told the group. “That’s where they took her. Grace and Ella are in Connecticut.”

Hold on Grace, I’m coming.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Grace

My head throbbed with pain, but I ignored it. I couldn’t afford to show any weakness. These people would exploit it.

Ella and I kept close to each other, her hand in mine. I refused to have us separated. No matter what. After we were adequately prepared for the auction, like we were some kind of animals, five guards surrounded us and ushered us back into the hallway. My heart thundered, recognizing every inch of it. But with five of them surrounding us, there was no room for escape. Even so, I refused to give up.

The hallway here was dark. Ella’s and my heels clicked against the stone floor. My heartbeat was frantic, and I didn’t have to ask my best friend to know hers was too. I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

Think about Matteo. Focus on opportunities to escape. Think about Matteo.

The hallway ended and large stairs led to the floor below.

“No matter what,” I uttered in a hushed voice, “don’t let go of my hand.”

With a jerky nod, we slowly descended the stairs, our fingers intertwined. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Our heels echoed through my grandpa Astor’s beach mansion. And that’s when I saw them. Waiting for us like some sacrificial lambs.

Benito King. Marco King.