Page 24

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

ADALYN

T he end of my delirious happiness came when six words left Marco’s lips late one Wednesday afternoon.

“Your father has requested a meeting.”

“What?” I asked, taking a seat in the armchair across from him. I was shocked and confused by the news.

Marco swirled the glass of amber liquid in his hand. The tension in his expression unmistakable as we sat together in the study.

“It’s unprecedented,” Marco muttered bringing my focus back to the room.

His jaw tightened, as if he were annoyed with himself that he hadn’t anticipated my father’s request.

“Why now?” Was all I could think to ask.

“He believes there is a way to resolve this war between our families.” Expecting my next question he added, “He didn’t say what.”

“And do you believe him?” I asked, skeptical.

My father never was one to change his mind once it had been made.

“I don’t know what to think.” Marco tossed his tumbler onto the desk and wracked his hands down his face. “The meeting is in two days and you’re coming with me.”

I nodded, having every intention of coming even if he hadn’t offered, “Where is it?”

“Las Vegas. The Venetian Prince.” Despite his unease, a vague smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

I laughed once without humor. “Let me guess. You picked the venue.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, his smile growing. “It has a certain symmetry to it.”

I got to my feet and circled the desk, coming to stand by his side.

“What do you think he wants?” I asked quietly as he tugged me down onto his lap.

“I have an idea.” He said, eyeing me pointedly. “Not that it matters. I’d burn him and his entire city to the ground before he’d ever get the chance.”

Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I had no doubt that he meant what he said. Not when his deep brown eyes sliced into mine with an intensity that made my insides burn.

Marco was no monster, but he was certainly no hero either. If it meant keeping me by his side, I had no doubt he would follow through on his words.

“You are mine and if that means war with the Mannino’s for the rest of my existence then so be it.” His voice took on a lethal edge that promised violence and I stifled a shudder.

I brought my fingers to his face, caressing his skin trying to placate his inner turmoil.

“It won’t come to that,” I breathed. “Besides, I’m not going anywhere without putting up a fight. I’m very deadly you know,” I said sweetly and quirking an eyebrow, daring him to challenge me on it.

His deep chuckle made my heart swell, and my arms wound around his neck on instinct. Humor sparked in his eyes and a smirk pulled at his lips.

“Deadly.” He agreed.

The plane ride to Las Vegas that Friday was tense.

The men talked heatedly over strategy at the conference table while I stared aimlessly out the window trying not to bite off the inside of my cheek.

Knowing I would see my father for the first time in almost a year, made anxiety bubble in my chest. The father I thought I had for twenty-five years wasn’t the same man I now knew him to be. Everything was different.

I was different.

Most of Marco’s security had already been assembled at The Venetian Prince. He had brought over thirty extra bodies to facilitate the evening meeting and to ensure everything went as planned. Although, the specific details of that plan weren’t shared with me, Marco had insisted that killing my father wasn’t part of it. That his primary motivation was getting everyone on our side in and out safely. Especially me.

The club was just the same as I remembered.

The building itself towered over everything within a two-block radius—a hard feat given that it was on the Las Vegas strip. The building gleamed with the light of Friday evening traffic and reflected the neon signs of nearby venues like an ostentatious mirror. Queues of people dotted the sidewalk outside as we sped past in the SUV, turning into an underground parking garage beneath the club itself.

The lot was deathly silent as we exited. Flickering fluorescent lights were setting my teeth on edge as we crossed the cement to the bank of elevators. The seven of us piled into a marble-paneled box to ascend up the levels. Jesse and Layton were talking animatedly into their wrists as we went, liaising with the rest of the security team stationed at various points across the club’s blueprint. I couldn’t help but tremble as my adrenaline spiked the moment the elevator doors opened on the fiftieth floor.

Jesse led us down a short, unfamiliar hallway and through a set of double doors, revealing an enormous conference room. At its heart stood a rectangular wood table, polished to perfection and surrounded by twenty leather backed chairs. Two of the room’s walls were entirely made of glass, overlooking the familiar twinkling lights of the Las Vegas city skyline, while the other two featured large abstract paintings. It was sleek, modern, and undeniably sophisticated.

In my periphery, I saw Marco walk over to the console on the right and heard the clinking of glass as he poured himself a drink. The other men huddled in muted discussion by the door. A few heavy minutes passed by before Jesse cleared his throat.

“They are here.”

Marco seemed unconcerned by the news as he slowly turned to the men. “Once everyone is in position, send them up.”

Jesse nodded, and the men sprang into action. Alonso and Tom moved to stand on either side of the doors we had just entered through, while Wyatt and Layton moved to stand on either side of what I presume would be Marco’s seat at the head of the table. I counted three guns on each of them…and those were only the ones I could see. Benny also sat off to the side, face stern and a gun strapped to his hip.

Marco had reassured me on the drive over that no blood would be spilled tonight, but he clearly wasn’t betting on it.

If I wasn’t nervous before, I certainly was now.

Marco took to his seat, furthest from the doors and gestured for Wyatt to move another chair next to him.

“Ada,” he ordered, looking from me to the chair.

I complied without hesitation, feeling not only out of my depth, but as if anxiety threatened to eat me alive. My heartbeat thundered in my ears and my throat turned to sandpaper.

“Don’t be worried. Nothing bad is going to happen.” The confidence in Marco’s voice was unmistakable and it dampened my apprehension a little. “Well, not to us at least.” He smirked, flashing his teeth.

Jesse waltzed back in with another three men, each moving to flank each side of the room in stern silence. Their faces set in a grim expression.

The second time the doors opened, my father, his underboss Ron, my cousin Leon, and their own small security team filtered slowly into the room.

The cold gaze of my father found me immediately but lasted mere seconds as he turned his attention to the man on my left.

This isn’t the first time they’ve met. I quickly realized.

Marco was coolly unaffected by my father’s scrutinous gaze, reclining in his chair with a whiskey. He was power and control personified, and it clearly left a bitter taste in my father’s mouth. His expression soured as he took a seat.

“Alberto Mannino.” Marco’s impervious voice rang out in greeting.

“Marco La Torre.” My father’s gruff voice returned. “Need I remind you that a woman has no place at a negotiation.” He didn’t even look at me when speaking, focusing his attention solely on Marco.

He hasn’t seen me in almost a year and that’s all he has to say?

My temper flared but I held my tongue. Just like I always had as a Mannino. Just as I always did until I had met Marco.

My cousin Leon was already looking at me when I met his gaze, his round face forming a bitter smile across the table.

“You can remind me all you like Mannino, but she is staying.” Marco’s words were cool and confident, leaving no room for debate.

He sank back a mouthful from his tumbler before sliding the glass across the table, “Now. You wanted a discussion about peace between our families, so I suggest you get on with it.”

Hatred flashed in my father’s eyes, but he hid it well. Reclining back into his seat and bringing a hand up to his mouth as he contemplated his next words.

“Both our families have suffered as a result of this war. The hit you orchestrated with the help of my daughter some months ago being a particularly big inconvenience to my family.” The disgust marring his tone was aimed squarely at me and I fought the need to shrink away in response. “In addition to the gold and the money you stole from me, you stole $30 million worth of premium-class cocaine. That cocaine was being stored as part of a deal with an old family friend and a high-ranking member of the Mexican cartel.”

“I already know about your dealings with Arturo Lopez. Now get to the point.” Marco barked, clearly bored.

“Arturo was murdered recently in a deal gone bad at the border and another has since stepped in to fill his position. The problem is…he isn’t bothered about getting the product back or the money. There is something else he wants to pay off the debt.” When my father’s eyes landed on me, my stomach rolled with nausea.

That’s why they are here.

Of course, that was the reason.

They had no intention of bringing me back into the fold or what they would perceive as ‘rescuing’ me. There was an ulterior motive. There always was with my family, and I couldn’t say I was completely surprised. Nothing about my father was surprising to me anymore.

“So, I’m prepared to make you a deal, La Torre. I will pay the ransom you previously demanded with interest, and I will declare peace between our families. In exchange I want my daughter.”

“Who is it that wants her?” Marco’s voice was cold, but I could hear the anger weaving its way between his words.

“Ricardo Lopez.”

The air in my lungs whooshed out of me with a gasp.

Ricardo Lopez.

It felt like a punch in the stomach.

Cool tendrils of fear and dread sliced into my veins, the room around me suddenly becoming unsteady. The pounding in my ears growing acutely painful and the lack of oxygen in my lungs burning as I struggled to catch my breath.

I looked down at my hands, trying to hide the tears clouding my vision.

That name.

That was his name.

But my father already knew that. He knew what that name meant to me. What that man did to me. My cousin knew it too, but judging by their expressions they either didn’t care, or they had conveniently chosen to forget.

I sucked in a deep, unsteady breath forcing myself to calm down. To see past the fear, the terror, and the pain consuming me as thoughts swirled back to that night.

I counted to ten, over and over to myself but breathing didn’t come any easier. It was only when a heavy hand came to rest on my thigh that I was able to bring myself away from the spiraling emotions and memories that felt like they were drowning me.

Marco squeezed me reassuringly, communicating silently to me you are safe . That he would protect me. I focused on the soothing weight of his hand and the inky swirls of black visible on his skin. Slowly, I blinked away the tears.

As the ringing in my ears subsided, I could hear that the conversation had moved on, blissfully unaware of my internal suffering.

“$100 million interest.” It was my father’s voice I heard first.

“That would be a total of $200 million and peace between our families, all in exchange for your daughter?”

“Yes. Do we have a deal?”

“No.” Marco’s voice was menacing, but I thought I heard a faint trace of humor in it as well.

“Then name your price, La Torre.” My father’s hands fisted on the table, frustration rolling off him in waves.

“I don’t have a price. You can’t have her.”

My father smiled calculatingly. “A marriage contract has already been signed. She belongs to him now.”

The smugness on his face told me he truly thought had had gained the upper hand and trapped Marco in a corner.

Fool.

Marco let out dark, dry chuckle. “Your contract is void, Mannino.”

“And why the hell is that?” My father demanded, clearly irked at the insinuation.

“Because Adalyn Mannino no longer exists.” I didn’t have to look at Marco’s face to know that I would see a ghost of a smile on his lips. I could hear it in his voice.

“What!” Leon exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table. “How could you betray us like that!” He shouts, focusing his anger squarely on me as his face grew blotchy and red.

“Leon,” My father warned quietly.

“No, it’s not right. You never turn your back on family!” He yelled. “ You did this to her!”

My blood boiled.

After everything my family had done to me. After everything they had put me through and made me endure…only to turn their back on me the moment I was taken behind enemy lines.

It was them who had turned their back on family. Not the other way around.

A dark laugh resonated from my throat before I could bite it back, earning me a hateful glare from my deplorable cousin.

“Then what exactly do you think leaving me a prisoner was, Leon? A fucking tea party?” My voice was venom and sounded eerily like the man sitting beside me. “My family turned their back on me a long time ago. What was it father said?” I questioned to no one, pretending to try and recall the words that were now etched into my very soul. “ She is of no use to me or this family .”

“Adalyn.” My father warned.

The look of consternation on his face was almost humorous. I doubted he had ever heard me swear before, let alone defend myself to a room full of men.

Nonetheless, I fell silent at his warning. Snapping back into the role I was forced to play for all my life—the dutiful and docile daughter.

“Lies!” Leon screamed.

I knew it wasn’t a lie. So did Marco. So did my father.

It had been exactly those words on Marco’s recorder all those months ago and the look of contempt now clouding my father’s eyes was further proof of that very fact.

“You’ve been fed a load of bullshit and are brainwashed. It’s pathetic.” Leon argued, but I was no longer listening as he continued spuing bile.

White hot fury simmered beneath my skin, boiling me in rage. Not just with the irritating droning of my cousin, but anger with myself for falling back in step as the pathetic and meek Mannino I was raised to be.

I wasn’t that person anymore and it was time they realized it.

Without thinking and guided only by violence, my hand drifted from my lap and over to the man beside me, knowing what I would find tucked in the waistband of his trousers, I snaked my hand under Marco’s jacket until I touched the cool steel.

He didn’t move to stop me.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one reaching my limit with this conversation.

“You’ve only turned your back on us because he got you on yours. You’re nothing but a?—”

I slammed the handgun down on the table in front of me. The bang echoed around the room, cutting Leon off.

I let it rest against the table beside my hand. Clearly locked. Clearly loaded. The warning was unmistakable.

My father’s eyes flashed with indignation, but I didn’t care.

“I think it’s time you shut up, Leon.” I spat.

Unfortunately, my idiotic bastard of a cousin never did like following orders.

“You don’t get to—” he began again.

“Speak to her again and I will cut your fucking tongue out.” Marco’s menacing voice interrupted.

Leon’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, and I bit back a smile at his palpable fear .

“Enough of all this,” My father complained, gesturing with his hand dismissively and not paying any mind to the increasing tension in the room. “This marriage contract was signed three months ago. It still applies.”

“Adalyn hasn’t been a Mannino for over six months.” Marco shook his head derisively. “And to pre-empt your next move, she’s already engaged to someone else. A legitimate contract is already signed and in effect.”

My father’s face blanched with that information, as did mine. I had no idea what Marco was talking about.

“To who?” My father demanded, and I too, wanted to know.

Had he finally decided to marry me off?

My heart raced as the seconds ebbed away.

“Me.”

My father spluttered loudly, but I hardly even noticed.

Marco turned his head slightly. The hard onyx of his irises softened as they met mine, showing me just for a second the emotions that hid under the surface. Emotions that few alive ever got to see.

“Disgraceful. You must have a father’s consent for such things, and you certainly do not have mine!” My father argued, immediately enraged.

“That’s where you are wrong again,” Marco replied, turning his full attention back to the older man. “You know, it’s funny really…what you can do when you have no respect for tradition.”

My father seemed stunned by the comment, unsure how to respond. He decided to change tack instead.

“That may be true, La Torre, but you forget that by failing to hand her over you will create yet another enemy. Ricardo will kill you and your entire family if he doesn’t get what he wants.”

The name— his name—sent a chill racing down my spine and I flinched. Marco’s grip on my thigh tightened in response.

He shrugged, unaffected. “So be it. He’ll be dead within a week.”

The room lapsed into rigid silence as both Don’s glared at each other over the expanse of table.

My father had always been an inflexible man. Once his mind was set on something, it was rarely the case that it ever changed. However, he had clearly misjudged how unflinching immutable Marco was as his opponent. An impasse had been reached and there was no clear way forward for the discussion.

I gulped in apprehension.

Violence was just around the corner and every person in the room could feel it.

A few tense minutes fell away, before my father’s face contorted into a bitter smile. “Is my daughter really worth all this?”

I didn’t have to see Marco’s face to know he wasn’t very impressed by the question, his body tensing up was indication enough.

“It is sad is that your family means so little.” Marco released me and rose from his seat, languidly wandering over to the wall of windows. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned his back toward my father and the rest of the room, preferring to gaze out across the city.

He was cool confidence and control personified. I didn’t think it was possible to respect him anymore than I already did, but in that moment, he was not only the most powerful man in the room…he was commanding. Captivating.

“That is why you will never win this war and why your family will never be as powerful as mine, Alberto. Loyalty breeds loyalty.” He turned back around to face my father, looking every bit as powerful as the devil himself. “And your family are as loyal as rats on a sinking ship. Now get the fuck out of my club.”

A scowl etched itself on my father’s face as he began rising from his chair, clearly displeased with the abrupt end to the conversation but knowing full well they were outnumbered and outgunned.

Leon’s eyes darted about the room as if scared of a massacre at any moment and all but ran to get out the door. Coward.

“A word of advice, La Torre,” My father said, stopping just before he reached the doors. “While we are both men of violence, we are that way because we must be. Ricardo is no such man. He is savage and cruel because he wants to be. Make no mistake: he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And what he wants is my daughter.”

Fear and panic bled through me again, knowing the truth behind his warning.

My hands trembled in my lap and my heart sped in my chest. Flashes of his sadistic smile. Memories of his brutal nature came screaming back and my stomach rolled with nausea.

“It’s a good thing I’m better at protecting my family than you are, then.”

My father’s eyes coasted to mine for a moment and his scowl deepened in thought.

For a second, it looked like he was going to say something. Anything .

But I was wrong.

He turned and left the conference room. Ron, Leon, and the rest of them following in his wake, escorted by our security team to the rear.

I doubted I would see any of them ever again.

I let out an unsteady, faltering breath.

This wasn’t over.

Ricardo was never going to stop.

MARCO

I hadn’t anticipated finding mutual ground with Alberto Mannino, that much I was sure of, but at least I now understood his motives.

He didn’t want peace; he was desperate. And I would bet my entire fortune that he was desperate because he was afraid . Afraid of the man that wanted Ada— Ricardo Lopez .

I didn’t recognize the name.

High ranking Mexican drug lord my ass.

It enraged me that I had more questions than answers.

Like why would her father promise her hand to a member of the cartel in the first place? It was unconventional…abhorrent. Mexican drug lord or not, he was a nobody to major players like us. So, why did this Ricardo think he had any right to her at all? He sure as shit didn’t.

And on top of that, why would a father hand his only daughter over to a man he deemed a brutal savage? It didn’t make any goddamn sense.

The moment the door slammed shut behind the miserable scumbags, my gaze flicked to Ada. She looked exhausted and pale, slumped in her seat. She refused to meet my stare, preferring to look at her hands lying idly on her lap and even from this distance, I could tell she was trembling.

Something is wrong.

She wasn’t just upset about the callousness of her father or the cutting tongue of her idiot cousin—there was something else. Something else was going on that I wasn’t aware of…and it was putting me in a piss-poor mood.

There were too many damn questions and no fucking answers.

“Are you alright?” I asked her, hating myself for sounding so rough and cold. It wasn’t easy for me to drop my mask of indifference so quickly.

She didn’t answer, too lost in her own thoughts. I doubted she even heard me.

My jaw tightened in frustration as Benny approached, and I reached to pour myself a drink as Benny did the same.

“That went as well as could be expected,” He murmured.

“He doesn’t want peace. He wants her back,” I muttered in reply.

“We assumed as much.” The older man nodded. “Whoever this Lopez is has him running scared, which is… interesting .”

It certainly was.

“I want to know who he is, and I want him fucking dead.”

Benny nodded once before the doors flew open again, announcing Jesse’s return. Meeting the familiar eyes of my oldest friend I could sense an unease stirring within him.

“They’re gone.” He shot a concerned look in Ada’s direction. “And I might know something about this Ricardo Lopez he was talking about.”

Ada flinched. Again .

In fact, she had flinched every time that prick’s name has been mentioned. Her face morphed from white to pale green. There was definitely something going on that I was missing, and I had every intention of finding out what that was…but I had to speak with Jesse first to get some fucking answers.

“Alonso. Tom. Take Ada to the penthouse and get her something to eat,” I ordered.

The men quickly moved toward her, Alonso offering his hand to help her from the chair. She looked at him somewhat dazed before taking it, allowing him to help support some of her weight as she left. She looked so weak and docile, my blood boiled. I had never seen her look so… breakable .

My fists clenched as I fought against the primal urge to throw her over my shoulder and rip out the throat of any man that came near her.

Jesse cleared his throat the second the doors clicked shut, drawing my attention back into the room.

“I didn’t recognize the name at first, but then I remembered a story one of our smugglers was telling me, about this lunatic from a cartel in Tijuana. Lopez, he’d said his name was, but he’s better known as Thrasher .” Jesse looked troubled by the name.

Thrasher.

Deep in the recesses of my mind the name rang a hollow, disturbing bell. I knew that name, or rather I knew the reputation that followed it.

Thrasher was a strangler of men, beater of women and an enslaver of children. The only word I could associated with men like him was simply evil . A monster.

The son of a prolific Mexican drug lord whose territories spread all through Tijuana. They were the largest in the area and the most dangerous, with a reputation spanning the entirety of Mexico.

Not that I gave a shit about any of that.

What troubled me the most is why this Thrasher or Lopez —or whoever the fuck he was—thought he had any right to Adalyn.

To what was mine.

I remembered how she flinched with each reference to his name. How she went pale… She knew him. Or at the very least she knew of him.

Blinding rage knocked the breath from me, and the glass in my hand was dangerously close to shattering.

The thought of Adalyn occupying the same room as a man known to beat women and do a lot worse to them, made me feel nauseas. But more than anything else—it made me murderous.

Ricardo Lopez was a dead man walking on borrowed time. And so help me God, I was going to make the bastard suffer for going after what was mine.

ADALYN

The penthouse was extravagant and beautiful. Walls of towering glass stretched across two stories, revealing the expanse of Las Vegas, similarly to the conference room earlier. The neon lights and crowded streets of the city framing the room like living art.

On any other day it would have been beautiful, but now… I didn’t even glance at it.

Too wrapped up in the haunting memories and crippling feelings that threatened to swallow me whole. I crumpled on the bed and rolled into a ball, unable to keep my sobs at bay. The familiar tendrils of pain swelled in my veins, obliterating everything but debilitating self-pity.

He isn’t going to stop.

After all these years. Despite all this distance. He wasn’t finished with me. He still wasn’t done ruining me.

As if that wasn’t enough, my own father, a man who knew what Ricardo was capable of, and who had done nothing when he found out what had happened to me, was willing to bind me to him for the sake of ‘business’.

From what I’d heard, time had only served to make Ricardo a more efficient monster. He was a sadist who enjoyed inflicting pain, particularly on women… particularly on women who couldn’t fight back.

Thrasher .

My stomach rolled violently, and I scarcely made it to the toilet before throwing up. I pressed my head to the cool tiles and focused on trying to level out my breathing, my throat burning with every breath.

A distant voice echoed at the edge of my consciousness, but it did little to rouse me from my torture.

I ignored the gentle shake on my arm. The pain was too?—

“ADA!” Marco’s voice thundered around the room, snapping me out of my agonizing delirium.

I was instantaneously flipped onto my back and met with familiar, albeit frantic, black eyes. Marco’s handsome mouth was set in a grim line as he took in my appearance, concern marring his handsome features.

“I’m fine,” I muttered weakly, sitting up.

The nausea was nearly gone now, though the aching in my chest remained.

He lifted me from the floor and took me back into the dimly lit bedroom, gently dropping me onto the expanse of bed and removing my shoes. After a moment of tucking the covers around me, he took a seat at its edge, looking at me with concern and… fear .

“What is going on with you, Ada?” His voice was tight, heavy with an emotion he was trying to suppress. “Talk to me.”

I shook my head and swallowed, tears brimming my eyes.

A different kind of trepidation pounded in my chest. The kind that told me that if he knew the truth, the real truth, then he wouldn’t want me anymore. That he would think me broken.

Ruined .

“Ada, please. Please , Baby.” His hands cupped my face.

Hearing the helplessness in his voice and seeing the vulnerability in his eyes caused something deep within me to finally snap.

I racked in a heavy, unsteady breath.

It was time to tell him my secret.