C4

Suddenly, Vittorio looked over, his dark eyes meeting mine across the concrete floor, and he winked. I tensed up instantly. There was a raw, dangerous meaning in that look. Then I realized he was just getting started.

Rocco swung a wild right hook, but Vittorio caught his fist in his massive, tattooed hand and yanked Rocco forward. With a movement so lightning-fast I barely saw it, the Dark Don turned the tables, slamming Rocco belly-first onto the blood-smeared canvas.

Vittorio pressed his heavy knee into the middle of Rocco's back, leaning down until his mouth was inches from Rocco's ear. I could tell he was growling something, but the deafening roars of the betting crowd drowned out his low voice.

Rocco squirmed violently, trying to break the hold, but he was completely pinned. I held my breath, my chest tight as I waited to see if the Falcone heir was going to beg for mercy. Losing in front of his own crew was a lethal blow to his pride.

Suddenly, the overhead lights cut out. The room plunged into darkness, and half the crowd gasped while women shrieked. A second later, red emergency backup lights along the baseboards flickered to life, casting long, bloody shadows across the unfinished walls.

"What's going on?" I called out, scrambling back toward the bar.

"Evacuation!" Dario shouted over the noise. "The main breaker got cut!"

My eyes adjusted to the red glare, watching as the Moretti soldiers and high-rollers quickly followed the floor lights toward the secret rear escape stairs. Rocco was still groaning on the mat, but Vittorio had vanished into the shadows like a ghost.

The overhead lights sputtered and flashed back on, blinding me for a second. When my vision cleared, I saw Don Salvatore Falcone himself marching across the floor toward the ring, surrounded by four heavy enforcers in tailored dark suits.

I stepped closer to the cage, my heart in my throat. Don Salvatore stopped at the edge, his face twisted in pure, terrifying rage as he stared up at his son. Rocco stood up, wiping blood from his broken nose and spitting onto the canvas.

"I gave you strict orders never to step foot in this underground pit, Rocco," Don Salvatore growled, his voice echoing off the concrete.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad," Rocco spat back, clutching his fractured ribs. "I run my own crew."

"You are my heir!" the Don roared. "You get beaten in a gutter fight, you make the Falcone family look weak!"

"I didn't lose!" Rocco snapped defensively.

"Then who did you fight?" Don Salvatore demanded, looking at the empty ring. "Where is your opponent?"

Rocco's eyes darted around the room, panicking before his gaze landed right on me. He pointed a blood-stained finger straight at my face. "Taryn! I was sparring with Taryn!"

"What?" My voice squeaked. I didn't want to be dragged into this mob family war.

Don Salvatore turned his lethal gaze onto me, his brow furrowing. "You fought my son?"

I hated Rocco with every fiber of my being, but I knew if I exposed that he'd just been humiliated by Vittorio Moretti, Rocco would make sure I paid for it later. I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to sound tough. "We used to throw hands back in school. He was just giving me a warm-up."

Don Salvatore looked between my swollen cheek and Rocco's bloody face. The rage in his eyes slowly turned into dark amusement. "You let a debt-bound street girl beat the shit out of you?"

"She caught me off guard," Rocco mumbled, glaring at me.

"He went easy on me, Don Salvatore," I added quickly, desperate to keep Rocco's ego intact. "I just got lucky."

Don Salvatore grunted, stepping up to the edge of the chain-link. "A family is only as strong as its soldiers. Did you stop fighting just because I walked in?"

I looked at Rocco, who was frantically nodding at me from inside the cage. I turned back to the Don. "Yes, sir."

"Well, don't let me interrupt," Don Salvatore said, waving a heavy hand toward the mat. "Get back in there and finish it."

My stomach dropped into a cold abyss. Was he serious? He wanted me to fight Rocco right now? "We... we were done, sir. I yielded."

"Don't lie to me, girl," Don Salvatore barked. "Look at the fire in your eyes. Get in the cage and show me what you can do."

It was a Don's direct order. In our world, you didn't say no to the head of the syndicate unless you wanted a bullet in the back of your head.

I swallowed hard, my knuckles trembling as I unclipped my black apron and tossed it onto the bar. I hadn't been in a real street fight in two years, but my body remembered every bruise, every broken rib Rocco and his friends had given me growing up.

I climbed under the steel ropes and stepped onto the blood-stained canvas.

"Ready to do this, sweetheart?" Rocco sneered, stepping toward the center of the ring. With his father watching, I knew he was going to hit me with everything he had to prove he wasn't weak.

I took a deep, shaky breath. If I wanted to walk out of this ring on my own two feet, I couldn't hold back a single hit. For the first time in my life, there were no gang members to grab my arms from behind. It was just me and Rocco.

"Fight!" Joe Costanzo yelled from outside the ropes.

A dark, burning heat erupted deep in my chest. All the years of humiliation, the debt forced onto my shoulders, the beatings I'd taken from Rocco's crew—it all boiled over into pure, vicious adrenaline.

Rocco lunged forward, throwing a fast jab right for my chin. I ducked underneath it, my body reacting on pure instinct, and drove a hard left hook straight into his cracked ribs.

Rocco let out a choked gasp, stumbling back two steps. The sound of his pain sent a thrill of pure power straight down my spine. I didn't wait for him to recover. I stepped in and threw a sharp right cross that caught him squarely across his jaw.

Pain shot up my arm from my bruised knuckles, but I didn't care. Rocco growled, his face twisting in rage as he grabbed me by the throat and slammed me down onto the mat. The impact knocked the wind out of my lungs, making bright white spots flash across my eyes.

"Submit, Taryn!" Rocco grunted, leaning his heavy weight on my chest, his fingers digging into my neck.

"Go to hell!" I spat through gritted teeth.

I drove my knee violently up between his legs. Rocco let out a high-pitched scream, his grip loosening as he doubled over in agony. I scrambled out from under him, rolling across the rough canvas, and bounced back to my feet.

The few remaining enforcers around the ring started cheering and shouting, waving wads of cash.

Rocco pushed himself up, his eyes wild with embarrassment. "You bitch!"

He charged me like a mad dog, tackling me around the waist and driving us both back down to the concrete floor. My head bounced off the mat, sending a wave of nausea through my stomach. Before I could twist away, Rocco pinned my right arm behind my back, twisting it until the joint screamed in agony.

"Tap out!" Rocco hissed, his sweaty face inches from my ear, his breath hot against my neck. "Say I'm better than you!"

"Never!" I choked out, tears of pain stinging my eyes as he twisted my wrist further.

"I said submit!" he growled, pressing his body flush against mine, the possessive, ugly weight of his anger crushing me into the floor.

Just as my shoulder felt like it was about to pop out of its socket, a dark, icy voice echoed from the shadows near the cage door, cutting through the noise of the room like a razor blade.

"Put your hands on her again, Falcone, and I'll tear your arms out of their sockets."

Rocco froze instantly.

I forced my head up and saw Vittorio Moretti standing inside the cage door, a heavy silver pistol held casually at his side, his dark eyes burning with absolute, murderous fury as he stared down at Rocco holding me to the mat.

Don Salvatore's enforcers immediately drew their guns, pointing them at Vittorio, but Vittorio didn't even look at them. His gaze was locked strictly on Rocco's hand twisting my wrist.

"Don Moretti," Don Salvatore said softly, stepping forward with his hands raised slightly. "This is a private Falcone family matter. The girl belongs to us."

Vittorio raised the heavy pistol, pointing it straight between Rocco's eyes. The hammer clicked back with a sharp, terrifying sound.

"She doesn't belong to you anymore, Don Salvatore," Vittorio murmured, his deep voice dripping with lethal promises. "Check your phone. The Commission just ratified the debt transfer five minutes ago. Taryn Vescari is Moretti property now."

Rocco's grip on my arm completely slackened. I scrambled away from him, my heart hammering like crazy as I pulled myself up against the ropes, gasping for air.

Don Salvatore slowly pulled his phone from his breast pocket, his eyes scanning the screen. His face turned a deep, dangerous shade of purple. "You bought her contract?"

"Every cent of it," Vittorio said, stepping right past Rocco without giving him a second glance. He reached out, his big, warm hand sliding around my waist, pulling my battered body firmly against his solid chest. His thumb stroked softly over my hip, sending a sudden, scorching wave of heat straight to my core despite the pain in my body. " Get your coat, little girl. You're coming home with me."