Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“He got captured.”
“Is he alive?”
Niccolo motioned toward the ballroom. “You should talk to Remo. It’s not my place to tell you everything.”
My lips curled. “Where do your loyalties lie?”
“With Remo and you. Come, Nestore. Let the past rest and become part of the new Camorra.”
“Let the past rest?” I snarled. Amelia flinched against me. I had to swallow my rage and need for blood in the basement, but she would soon get used to this side of me. “Do you have the slightest idea what I have endured these…” I hesitated. I wasn’t even sure how long I had been down in the basement.
“Almost three years. Next month, you’ll turn eighteen.”
“Three years,” I echoed, my throat tight with useless emotions. Amelia pressed her small palms against my bare back in silent reassurance, and I relaxed slightly. I swallowed down the pain and sorrow to glare at my cousin. “Do you know what I went through these last three years while you were free to join a revolution?”
Niccolo’s eyes scanned my naked torso. “I can guess.”
I shook my head. These scars didn’t even tell half the story. They didn’t show the many ways in which Lamorgese and his men had humiliated me and made me feel less than human. Sometimes I still tasted the vileness of everything they forced me to eat in my mouth.
“Come, Nestore. Remo will give you a great future.”
Niccolo moved backward but kept his eyes on me. Maybe he realized the danger he was in. I glanced back at Amelia, who watched me with huge, anxious eyes. I wanted her to be safe, but for that to happen, I had to become powerful, more powerful than Lamorgese, more powerful than my father even. I couldn’t do this alone.
I squeezed her hand and tugged her along as I followed Niccolo into the ballroom.
It was littered with dead guards, but several of them were alive and kneeling on the floor with guns pointed at them by Remo’s men. Their eyes flitted to me, shock and revulsion twisting their faces, before they looked away.
Remo and the other Falcone brother waited in the middle of the vast room. I wondered where his two youngest brothers were. If he were anything like Benedetto, he’d probably have killed them.
Remo looked like he considered himself the king of this place. As Capo, he technically was, but I wanted to become the master of these walls again.
“You decided to join us,” Remo said with a twisted smile.
I didn’t return the smile. I allowed my eyes to take in the splendor of the ballroom. This room used to be filled with good memories for me, but now all I could think of as I scanned the hardwood floor was how father’s blood and bowels had spilled on it.
“You are both injured,” Remo’s brother said.
Amelia’s wrist was swollen. Nobody had treated it. I worried it had been broken two weeks ago.
Remo’s brother stalked toward us and reached for Amelia, so I lunged. He blocked my weakened body and stepped back, palms raised in a way that erased most of my rage. “Nobody touches her,” I growled. Amelia cast a terrified look up at my face. She didn’t have to be afraid. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her ever again. I had failed her for too long.
His cool gray eyes took me in with a calm I couldn’t fathom. “She’s yours.”
“Mine,” I exhaled. Mine. Nobody would ever hurt Amelia again. I had been powerless for too long, unable to help my dove. Never again. I tucked Amelia closer. She was mute, shaking in my hold, her cheek pressed against my sternum. Too much had happened.
The brother exchanged a look with Remo. While they shared facial features and dark hair, the calm gray in the brother’s eyes was replaced with dark irises that reflected the same feverish rage and hunger for destruction that ravaged my broken body. The same blood, but so different.
“My brother Nino can tend to your wounds. And hers,” he said, eyes firm on mine, cautious but not hostile.
“Why are you here?” My voice lacked the gratefulness I felt for the freedom he had given me, but a savior could be a new enemy in disguise. With Amelia’s safety on the line, I couldn’t risk being trusting. Trust was a luxury I would never risk again.
“I am Remo Falcone, the man who’ll rule over the entire Camorra once all the rats are off the ship. And you, Nestore, can rule as Underboss under my rule. The Romanos were loyal.”
“Loyalty got my father killed by your father. Loyalty turned me into a prisoner of a monster.”
“You were loyal to a man who never understood what that phrase means. My father was a monster.”
“And you’re not?” I narrowed my eyes at the blood covering his clothes and skin. He carried it like a badge of honor. Blood was his friend, but it was mine too.