Page 43

Benito

I feel like I’ve been rammed in the chest by a wrecking ball. The only things anchoring me are the feel of Tess’s shaking hand wrapped around my arm, and the guttural roar of Cristiano as he grips his head between two hands and growls . Then he strides directly across the dance floor, stepping over motionless bodies, with eyes trained on Trilby. Only when he’s scooped her into his arms and pulled her face into his chest does he turn his gaze to Beppe.

His expression contorts with each second that passes and I know, without a doubt, if the missing Marchesi were to walk in here now, he’ll be carved up and buried alive.

The room is silent but for the sound of Trilby’s cries. Her dress is stained with Beppe’s blood from where he protected her from the gunfire. If it weren’t for him, she’d be dead.

A hard shudder rolls down my spine at the thought of losing Tess. There is no law, no vow—not even a Cosa Nostra oath—that would stop me from mowing down every single person remotely connected.

When it becomes too uncomfortable to watch Cristiano and Trilby rocking together on the floor, I pan my gaze across the room. All the men are standing, apart from those lying motionless on the ground. Most of the women have staggered to their feet. Everyone looks stunned.

The man in the doorway hasn’t moved. The fact he is the one who killed Lorenzo doesn’t fully reassure me. He isn’t an invited guest, and therefore, he isn’t one of us. He isn’t to be trusted.

“Who are you?” I demand. With my girl in my arms, my voice rolls along the ground like an avalanche.

The stranger doesn’t reply. He just steps into the room, letting it bathe him in light like some Christ-like figure. My breath escapes me at the familiar features. There’s something about him that warms my blood, yet I know for a fact I’ve never met him before.

Through the deathly silence, one woman’s whisper rises through the haze.

“Andrew?”

My gaze whips to Sera. She’s risen to her feet and has one hand pressed to her chest. Her focus hovers unwaveringly on the stranger .

“Who the fuck are you?” Augie barks, his gun primed at his shoulder.

The man drags his gaze from Cristiano to Augie, bypassing Sera completely. “Andreas Corlioni.” His voice is deep and confident. I feel admiration and an unwelcome sense of camaraderie settle somewhere in my veins.

“That means nothing to me.” Augie’s gun doesn’t move.

“I just took New Haven,” the stranger says, like that explains everything. And actually, to me, the consigliere with an eye constantly on the next prize, it does.

“The Marchesi’s wanted that,” I say, rising to my feet.

“I know.” A corner of his lip curls when he looks at me and a strange warmth runs through my torso. I don’t like it.

“What does that have to do with us?” Augie says. The tension in his tone makes it clear to me he’s losing his patience.

Beats pass. Andreas doesn’t move his eyes from mine. It’s like he’s trying to communicate something without words. But I don’t speak gaze. I speak Tess, sex and bullets.

“I want Boston.”

My brows hitch and Augie inhales slowly.

The stranger continues before we can emphasize our stake in the ground.

“I know you do too.”

“You think killing Lorenzo means we’re just going to hand the next phase of our growth over to you? A fucking stranger?” I bite out.

His pause drags until I’m almost so done I consider killing him . Then his cryptic response sends waves down my spine.

“I think blood is thick.”

“Depends whose blood you’re talking about.” Nicolò is back in play.

“ Bernadi blood is thick,” the stranger drawls. Suddenly, the eyes of the Di Santo family are on me.

“How the fuck would you know?” I curl my fingers tightly around my gun, even though something in my bones is holding me back.

“You don’t recognize me,” Andreas says, his tone lightening, his gaze resting heavily on me.

I watch his lips part, time slowing to a low, grumbling tempo as he finishes his sentence. “Brother.”

I hear Tess smack a hand over her mouth, while my world spins. I focus on my feet anchored into the floor.

I knew it. As soon as he stepped into the room, I knew. But it was such a surreal thought, an impossibility, my brain wouldn’t entertain it for a second. But my body knew. My bones, my flesh, my blood. It knew my brother was in the room.

If he’s expecting an open-armed welcome, a celebratory clink of two lowballs and a cozy catch-up by the fire, he is sorely mistaken. My comrade has just been shot, my girl has just fired a gun for the first time in her life and my boss’s wedding has just been ruined .

And as for his quip about blood being thick, I share blood with my downbeat ass of a father. That blood means fuck-all to me.

“My blood is all Di Santo,” I grit. Ever since Gianni made me, it’s been running through my veins. “And that’s where my loyalty lies.”

“I respect that.” Andreas drags a thumb across his bottom lip as he watches my reaction. “But I still want Boston.”

Cristiano is back on his feet, holding Trilby into his side. “The Marchesi’s barely had a hold on it, and now Lorenzo is gone it could be anyone’s for the taking. You don’t need our permission.”

Unease makes me twitch. “But we will fight you for it.”

Andreas—or Leo Jr as I once knew him—drops his hand, his eyes sliding from me to Cristiano and back. “I don’t want to fight, if I can help it.”

“So then we have quite the conundrum.” Cristiano holds Trilby tighter.

Several seconds of silence stretch, then Andreas tips his chin upward. “Let me join you.”

“We don’t know you.” Cristiano’s eyes narrow.

Andreas pushes his gun into the back of his pants. “That can be fixed. Make me a part of your family.”

I almost choke. Five minutes ago, I didn’t know my brother was alive, and now he’s here asking to be part of the family I made for myself?

“Why did you change your name?” I snarl, feeling Cristiano’s swing back to me.

My brother smiles but it’s bitter. “If you think I’m going to keep the name that deadbeat ass of a father gave me, just so it could live on after his death, you’re not the bright spark you used to be.”

I work my jaw side to side. I’d purposely forgotten that I was always the one hiding behind books, even at that young age, while Leo was the brawn our father used to drag around on his jobs.

He sighs impatiently. “I’m taking Boston whether you like it or not. Wouldn’t you prefer to keep it in the family?”

My brow dips. “So you’d take control of Boston, then share it with us? It doesn’t make sense. What would you get out of it?” I’m done with cryptic and I’m impatient for answers. “What exactly do you want?”

Silence falls over the room like a blanket, all eyes trained on Andreas—my brother. His gaze doesn’t shift from mine as he raises an arm to the right and points to where Sera is standing with a hand still pressed to her chest, her lips parted, short breaths blowing the strands of auburn hair that have fallen across her face.

“I want her .”

The end - for now.

Thank you so much for reading Where Wild Hearts Dance - I hope you enjoyed it!