Page 10 of The Pawn

Cigarette smoke. I guess his driver smokes. A moment later, music. Not loud. Must be the car radio. It doesn’t matter. I’m just grateful he doesn’t shut off the car, so I have that light. I turn to look at what it illuminates.

A portion of the cellar was used to store wine and although most of the wine was cleared out, I see there are a few bottles left. I crawl to it and reach up to take one. I wipe the dust from it.

Mom didn’t fight them. I understand why. But I’m not my mother. I swore after what happened that I would never play good little victim again. I told Cassian as much. I won’t be that for Malek. I won’t be that for anyone.

Footsteps outside. Whoever came is leaving. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t be long. I stand up, walk to the window, but it’s too high and although I can’t see, I can hear. I don’t scream for help. I know better. Anyone who is here is not here to help me.

“Let me be very clear. There’s only one reason I’m keeping quiet. It’s not to help you.”

I don’t know the speaker.

“She’s stubborn. I need time,” Malek says.

“You don’t have it.”

“Don’t forget what I can do.”

The stranger sighs. “I’m well aware. But there’s only so much Iwilldo. You make your bed, you lie in it.”

Malek mutters a curse. “I’ll take a page out of Moretti’s book then. By the time he finds her, it’ll be too late.”

A car door closes and the light changes. Tires on gravel. I hold the bottle by the neck, raise it and smash it against the metal door. The smell of old red wine makes me dryheave. It’s fully dark again as Malek and his soldiers march back into the house. I lay my hand over the broken bottle, feel the sharp edge of glass.

My mother didn’t fight them. She knew she was lost and couldn’t risk losing me.

Me, though? I have nothing to lose.

And I’ll fight like hell.

I’ll fucking murder Malek Lombardi.

4

CASSIAN

Once I’m back at the house, I pull on a bulletproof vest in preparation for battle. Soldiers load into SUVs, some already on their way to the Moretti house. He won’t be there. It’d be too stupid. But it’s a start. They’ve been instructed to stay out until I get there. I tuck a cartridge into my Glock and I’m heading out of my office when Jet walks into the house. He looks over his shoulder at the men heading out to the waiting SUVs.

“Enzo?” I ask.

“He’ll be fine. They’re stitching him up.”

“Good. I need to go.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because if your brother is involved, I will kill him, and you won’t want to see that.”

I start to walk past him, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Move.”

He doesn’t. “Why would Sev beinvolved? I mean, fucking think. How? He’s in fucking Atlantic City. And even if he’s an asshole, he’s not a kidnapper. You think he has the stomach for what we saw? For what you’d do to him?”

“I don’t know, Jet. Doyouhave the stomach?”

“What are you talking about?”