Page 30 of Thorns of Blood

He shook his head.

“We both know you’re not.”

My head spun, dizziness overwhelming me from fatigue and days of no food. But I wasn’t ready to put Amara’s safety into another man’s hands.

“Tell me something nobody knows about you,” I finally said, tasting blood in my mouth. “Or I’ll kill you.”

A heartbeat passed as he watched me somberly.

With a cold determination on his face, he said, “If you share this with anyone and betray me, I will punish you.” I swallowed, nodding my agreement. “Two decades ago, Emory’s mother and I were going to disappear together.” Something I couldn’t quite distinguish flashed across his expression. “Anyhow, I promised her that I’d watch over her daughter. I failed eight years ago; I won’t today. I’m getting you and this kid out of here.”

“That’s not much of a secret.” I frowned. “Besides, Gio DiLustro, her husband, would have come after you.”

“Gio would have failed, because nobody can come after The Syndicator.” My mouth fell open at the revelation. “Now you know my secret, Liana Volkov. Betray me and?—”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence.

Kian did as he promised that day. I couldn’t even fault him for it because he did warn me. It turned out he wasn’t joking.

He’d known I betrayed him to Atticus, so he sold me out to my late husband’s nephew.

But Kian didn’t know I had an ace up my sleeve too.

When I was searching for a donor for Amara’s liver, desperate to find a familiar match aside from her birth mother to use for her transplant, I traced her lineage. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon one of Kian’s secrets.

Giovanni headed toward the door and I followed him with my gaze, planning his demise when he said, “I’ll bring you some food.”

“Go to hell.”

He stopped in his tracks and smiled coldly. “Too late. I believe we’re both already there.”

Then he left me with my shadows and terrors.

ELEVEN

GIOVANNI

Jesus Christ.

I would have killed anyone else who’d provoked me like she had. She had the nerve to not only shoot me but to shoot mybrother. That was unforgivable and she deserved to die for it. Yet somehow, the idea of her lifeless body had my stomach coiling and my chest tightening.

Because there was one thing I knew for certain. Liana deserved to thrive and shine, not fight and hide.

This woman had a hold on me. It was a foreign, visceral need, the kind that I couldn’t explain and didn’t even understand. A hunger that roared in my chest and bled into my veins.

And then there was the recognition of the danger she represented for me. Every second she spent in my grasp, my obsession grew and spread like a fucking cancer.

The woman tripped me so effortlessly that I knew the wisest thing would be to get rid of her. Take her to Louisa, drop her off at her doorstep, and never see her again.

But I wouldn’t.

Why?

Because I was a fucking idiot. Maybe I was just as reckless as my brother, and I was eager to stir up trouble or start a damn war. There was no doubt that Kingston Ashford would come for her.

Yet here I was, steering a course from Venezuela, away from Europe and her twin. Why? Because I wanted to explore my fascination with this woman. I’d take a roundabout way toward Boston, stop at every known island and conduct business, then maybe even get lost at sea for a bit just so I could spend time with her and explore this peculiar attraction I felt around her.

When she was close, all I could focus on was the smell of wildflowers and temptation. I had never—fucking ever—been fascinated with someone in this way.