Page 24

W hen I was young and impressionable, and only wanted to get the attention of the man sitting across from me, I would have found the silence between us oppressive. Now, after carving out a life for myself in a world I was always told didn’t want me because of who and how I loved, I feel nothing but pity for my father.

At this point, it’s almost cruel keeping him alive. Except, forcing him to watch me live and thrive in a way he hates brings me immense pleasure.

“When are you going to claim your birthright?” Georgio asks into the silence, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Or are you hoping for a miracle?”

It takes all of my control to not react to his questioning. “I see you’re very worried about your son-in-law,” I reply lightly.

Georgio’s eyes flash with hatred, and his lip curls up in distaste. “I’m just wondering if you have a plan, should the worst happen. You don’t want to be caught unaware. It’s how your enemy will get you.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Georgio?”

“I haven’t been a threat to your precious family for a long time. You saw to that. Which is why it disappoints me that you let your husband control what’s rightfully yours.”

I bite my tongue to keep from protesting that by birthright, the De Luca Family, is not mine, but my nephew’s. Not that I can ever allow my father to know about him. Despite Georgio’s assurances that he’s been collared all this time, I know for a fact that if he ever learned about Julian’s son, he wouldn’t hesitate to put me down.

My brother may have been a psychotic asshole, and my father’s perfect heir, but he apparently had some type of brain in his head, since he didn’t tell Georgio about his bastard. It’s something I, and my entire family, feel strongly about as well. We saw what Georgio turned Julian into, in the name of making him his heir, like hell was I going to let him corrupt someone else, or worse, considering the boy isn’t up to Georgio’s standards of perfection .

“Even if Cristian dies, I wouldn’t take over. Roman is perfectly capable of being in charge; he’s done well so far.”

Whatever scathing comment Georgio may have been about to make is lost in the sounds of glass breaking and rapid gunfire.

I’m out of my chair instantly, gun in hand. “Get down,” I order Georgio.

He scoffs and says something, but I don’t pay attention, too focused on the fact that someone dared to attack part of the Amato main Family. Because, as much as I may hate my father, he is part of the Family, whether any of us like it or not.

Stepping out of the office, I don’t see any of the guards, but that isn’t a red flag, not when the sounds of gunfire seem to be erupting from all over. Keeping close to the wall, gun at the ready, I carefully make my way down the hall to the front door. While I trust every man on guard duty—they were handpicked by me and Ten after all—that doesn’t mean I can just sit back and do nothing.

Before I get too far down the hall, an explosion from somewhere deeper in the house grounds me to a halt. The building shakes and I duck, throwing my arms over my head as ringing begins in my ears.

After a moment, I straighten up and get my balance back, blocking out the incessant beeping from the smoke alarms. Georgio yells my name and I spin around, gun pointed at him. “Do you want to get killed?” I hiss. “We don’t know how many of them there are, or how far they’ve infiltrated.”

He crosses the distance between us quickly, a gun clutched in his hand. “I’d rather not be a sitting duck. I can protect myself.”

“I hope so, because like hell am I going to save your ass,” I lie. He doesn’t need to know I’d only save him so that I can one day kill him myself.

Before he can respond, another explosion rocks the house. “Fucking assholes,” Georgio snarls. “The final repairs only just got finished from the last time someone tried to kill me.”

I stifle a laugh and lead the way to the foyer, where the sounds of a gunfight can be heard.

Georgio doesn’t say a word about me going first, and I fight hard not to roll my eyes. Missing a hand or not, I would never let Roman go ahead of me. I’d die for my son, unlike Georgio, who’s happy to let everyone else take the fall, despite all his talk and bravado.

I just hope Georgio’s been practicing shooting one-handed since I cut the other one off, because the last thing I want is to be shot in the back by the fucker.

Turning the corner, gun at the ready, I quickly take in the situation, years of training allowing me to assess the threat risk.

There are bodies on the ground, and right away I can tell it’s more of our guys than the enemy’s, the surprise attack working in their favor. Without hesitation, I begin shooting at the hostiles, hitting one in the shoulder, making them stumble, and causing enough distraction that one of the remaining guards is able to get a headshot.

Once they realize I’m on scene, all of the hostile guns turn to me. A normal person would probably fear for their lives, but after all the shit I’ve lived through the last twenty years, a few guns pointed at me is nothing.

One of the guards moves in front of me, and I try not to growl at them, knowing they’re just doing their job. As Cristian’s husband, I’m afforded protections and privileges most aren’t, and situations like this make it hard to remember that I’m not just a guard anymore.

Stumbling back when the guard in front of me is shot and begins to collapse backward, I get hit in the arm, a hiss of pain escaping my throat.

My gun clicks empty and I curse. I don’t have a spare magazine on me, as I didn’t expect something like this to happen. All our cars are equipped with weapons and ammunition, but the need for carrying it on me hasn’t arisen since giving up my position as part of the Amato guard.

“Give me your gun,” I tell Georgio, who’s somehow managed to make it into the foyer without getting hit.

He tries to protest, but I ignore him, shoving my gun back into its holster and reaching for his.

I notice the explosive too late.

As one of the bastards tosses the device at us, I shove Georgio away from me, while the last renaming Amato guard grabs me and pulls me in the opposite direction.

A flash of light blinds me as the sound of the explosion echoes around the marbled foyer. Pain explodes through my head as I slam into something.

My last conscious thought is of my son, and how sorry I am that he’s about to lose both of his fathers.