Chapter 5

After leaving the estate, I didn't go anywhere near that so-called apartment in the suburbs. I knew that place was under Lorenzo's surveillance. Instead, I hailed a cab and headed to a rundown auto shop in the old district.

The rolling shutter lifted. A tall man, covered in grease, slid out from under a car. He was a few years older than me. A faded scar cut across his brow, and his eyes were as deep and cold as the Cicelyan sea in winter.

When he saw me, his face was stoic, though something in those dark gray eyes lit up. He set the wrench aside, took a clean rag, and wiped his hands carefully. "Donna Rossi, you're back."

His name was Antonio Barbero, a wounded beast fighting for scraps. I pulled him out of a street fighting pit years ago. Back then, his Mamma was ill. He signed a death contract and stepped into illegal cage fights to pay for her treatment.

In that lightless steel cage, he fought, soaked in blood, bones snapping under his boots. Challenger after challenger went do