Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
He reached for his drink and downed the rest of his whiskey in one single gulp. He placed the glass back down with a solid thud and wiped his mouth.
“Someone is following your wife,” Vincenzo said suddenly, his tone shifting from mocking to matter-of-fact.
I didn’t react like he expected me to. My expression remained neutral, and I simply nodded once, a short, sharp acknowledgment that told him I already knew.
Because I did.
I had seen the man.
Four days ago, outside the small hotel where Serafina had been staying, a cheap, forgettable place that relied on anonymity rather than luxury.
I had been watching from across the street, parked in a black sedan with tinted windows, my binoculars trained on her window on the second floor.
I had been reveling in the fact that I found my wife.
And there he was.
A man I didn’t recognize. Not one of my soldiers that Rocco had deployed across the continent to track her movements.
It was a stranger. Mid-thirties, lean build, dark jacket, hands in his pockets, and standing across the street in perfect stillness. Waiting. Watching.
He moved like a ghost, with the skilled patience of someone who had done this before.
I had watched him follow her that evening when she left the hotel. He maintained a careful distance. Fifty meters, maybe sixty—moving when she moved, stopping when she stopped, blending into the crowd with practiced ease.
He was good, not an amateur.
But he quickly caught on that I had discovered him. So he changed tactics. He stopped following Serafina and tried to disappear so I wouldn’t be able to follow his tracks.
Unfortunately, because I had been distracted by him… I once again lost my wife.
She had moved hotels before I knew it. Now, she was gone… and here I was, in a bar, with Vincenzo.
My chest tightened at the memory. My wife, the woman who had put a bullet in me, was being stalked by a man whose intentions I couldn’t yet determine.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
“I know,” I finally said, my voice flat. “I’ve seen him.”
Vincenzo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The scar twisted as his expression shifted, the half-sneer deepening. “You’ve seen him?”
“I’ve been watching her for almost two weeks.” I moved the glass between my fingers. “He showed up four days ago, keeping his distance but following her every move. He’s not one of mine.”
Vincenzo’s smirk returned. “He’s been tailing her longer than that. He was in Prague before she moved to Brussels.”
“How do you know?” I asked, my voice dropping low. The question had been sitting on my tongue since he’d mentioned it, a splinter of suspicion that I couldn’t ignore.
The Castellano made up the Cosa Nostra with the rest of the families. But I didn’t know how much I could trust its heir.
Vincenzo was many things… dangerous, unstable, arrogant… but he wasn’t part of my operation. He shouldn’t have known about Serafina’s movements, let alone the man following her.
His eyes darkened with sinister satisfaction. “I know everything, Adrian. People like to think I’m just a barbarian, not intelligent enough to play the game.” His chest rumbled with an amused chuckle. “They underestimate me. Always have.”
Vincenzo shrugged, the massive movement rippling through his shoulders. “Your wife’s stalker is good, whoever he is. Professional. Not an amateur. I think your wife is in danger, Adrian.”
The realization settled over me with suffocating weight.
Serafina was in danger.
My wife who had tried to kill me, who had fled across continents to escape me, now needed protection—from someone else.
How ironic.
Someone wanted what was mine.
The thought of anyone else laying a hand on her ignited something far more violent inside me than revenge.
“I need to find her,” I said, the words escaping before I could stop them.
Vincenzo’s scarred face split into a grin. “I thought you might say that.” He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen a few times before sliding it across the bar toward me. “She’s staying here. Small hotel. Room 312.”
I looked at the address on the screen, then back at Vincenzo. “Why are you helping me?”
Something shifted in his dark eyes, a look I couldn’t quite understand. “Because no one takes what’s ours. The Salvatores are at the height of their powers because the Castellanos put them there. Our families go back generations,” he said simply. “And she is a Salvatore bride. You claimed her. She’s yours, isn’t she?”
Yeah, she was fucking mine.
I stood, dropping enough euros on the bar to cover both our drinks. “Tell no one about this.”
“Your secrets are safe with me.” Vincenzo raised his glass in a mock toast. “For now.”
I left the bar without looking back, stepping into the cold night.
The street glistened with recent rain, the air fresh and clean after the stale atmosphere of the bar. My mind raced as I walked, heart thudding in my chest, pulse thundering in my ears.