Page 118 of Rosetti Family New York

“I should go.”

He smiles. It’s slow and dangerous. I feel like a deer in a wolf’s mouth.

I try to hold my head high, but my hands won’t stop shaking.

“You should never have come, Besiana. There are consequences to every choice. Leaving. Arriving. Betraying your own flesh and blood.”

He nods at his head of security, who stands like a shadow by the double doors. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Every step across the gravel sounds like the crack of my own bones. My fingers close around the hilt of my dagger.

21

Domenico

Ibarely get the car in park before I'm running. Cold air slaps me in the face, but I don't feel it. I don't feel anything except for the text message from Besiana burning a hole in my pocket. I should have known this would happen. I should never have let her leave my side. I'm an idiot for thinking Adrian could be trusted, even for a day.

The front gates are wide open but guarded like a fortress. The men in black hardly flinch as I charge past them, bellowing, “Where is she?” like a madman.

They know exactly who I'm talking about.

“Back courtyard,” one of them stammers.

The cold bites harder, but I shake it off. All I see in my mind is Besiana, alone with Adrian and his men, and the fear churns inside me like poison.

I veer to the right, sprinting past a row of tall windows, and when I round the corner, I see her. On the other side of the stone fountain. One of Adrian's men is holding her by the arm. I can see the pressure of his fingers, squeezing through her coat.

I cut across the garden, moving like a bullet. I'm halfway there when I see the guard's face, cruel and ugly, tight with the arrogance of someone who thinks he can get away with this. The wind is sharp, cutting through my clothes, but I don't feel it. I don't feel anything except the rage pounding in my chest, matching every step as I close the distance. Besiana is completely still, but I know her well enough to see the tension in her shoulders, the way her mouth sets in a hard line.

I don't stop until I'm right there, until the gravel crunches to a halt under my shoes.

And then the guard makes the mistake of looking at me.

He's dead before his eyes can widen. The knife slides easily into him, right under his ribs, and he's on the ground before he realizes what happened. I pull the blade out and let his body fall. Blood soaks into the gravel. My pulse is steady now, every part of me focused and ice-cold. The way I was trained to be. I shove the knife back under my jacket, where it belongs. Adrian should know better than to let his men put their hands on my wife.

More guards swarm in, closing the distance with guns drawn. I am alone, but my guys should be here soon. But I don't back down. I never back down, especially when Besiana's safety is at stake. I square my shoulders, taking one last glance at the dead man at my feet. Gravel crunches as they close in, my pulse strangely calm. The first guard thinks twice and hesitates. He stops just out of reach, fear on his face, and suddenly they're all stopping, every last one of them freezing as Adrian Dushku gives them a signal.

He stands behind the fountain, a hand raised. He watches us with eyes like a corpse, gray and lifeless. The guards are still on edge, their guns twitching toward me, but they don't move. Adrian drops his hand and cuts through them, stopping when he's close enough to speak.

"Interesting approach," he says.

I don't bother with a response. There's nothing I need to say to this man. Not right now, when I'm more concerned with making sure Besiana is unharmed.

I turn away from him and grab her by the shoulders, not as gentle as I should be. She has no marks on her, and I try not to imagine how many there would have been if I hadn't gotten here this fast. She glares up at me, pale green eyes cold, but I can see the crack under the ice, the crack no one else gets to see. It's the only sign that she's relieved to see me.

"Are you hurt?" I ask.

"You came," she says, avoiding the question, but I don’t see any injuries.

"You shouldn’t have come alone," I say.

She sets her jaw and says nothing, flicking her gaze past me to the body on the ground. The corpse. My fingers clench on her shoulder. I don't care how cold she tries to be; if she'd waited another minute, she would have found out just how much damage her father could do. That particular conversation can wait until later.

I glance at Adrian, trying not to let him see the rage boiling inside me. "She’s your own daughter," I say. “Why exactly did your man have his hands on her?”

Adrian shrugs. “Why does any man put his hands on a woman?”

Jealousy flares inside me, but I tamp it down. I know this monster is trying to get a rise out of me. But I'm going to make him regret it. I'm going to make him regret every goddamn word.

Instead of cracking his neck with my fists, I stay quiet and let him talk, let him think he's the one with the upper hand. I force myself to stand still, to play this carefully.