Chapter 6

I don't know how much time passed before they fished me out. By the time I hit the deck, I had gone into hypovolemic shock.

Alexander jammed a needle of adrenaline straight into my heart, dragging me back from the gates of hell.

"Since you're not dead, stop acting weak," Alexander spat the words at my heaving chest. Then, he wrapped his arm around a still-trembling Sophia and led her back to the luxury cabin.

I retched, coughing up seawater onto the teak deck. My hands, shaking uncontrollably, fumbled for the encrypted satellite phone in my pocket.

The screen lit up. A message from a familiar ID popped up.

It was a photo.

The background was a dim, filthy chemical lab. Lily was strapped to a surgical table, tubes inserted into her veins, her eyes unfocused and rolling back.

The caption beneath it read: [Neapolitan suburbs, abandoned chemical plant. Camorra's new synthetic drug trials. The girl has a high tolerance. The Red Light District was just a cover; this is her real home.]

The last string of sanity in my mind severed.

Luca had lied. He hadn't sent Lily to a brothel; he had sent her to a Camorra drug factory.

That rabid dog was using my baby sister as a live lab rat for high-purity heroin.

I forced myself up and dropped a spare zodiac boat into the water.

I tore toward the shore like a woman possessed.

Naples outskirts. Abandoned chemical plant. Sub-basement level 3.

I was dripping wet, looking like a nemesis crawling out of the abyss.

The two Camorra guards at the entrance didn't even see a shadow before I slit their throats. They dropped without a sound.

I was a top-tier Soldato trained by Cosa Nostra. Even half-dead, slaughtering these watchdogs was child's play.

When I kicked open the lab doors, my heart stopped.

Lily... she was barely recognizable. Her pale skin was covered in festering red rashes—rejection reactions from the chemicals.

Her limbs convulsed, white foam bubbled at her lips, and her eyes were empty.

Her hospital gown was torn open. Her inner thighs were covered in dark, violent purple bruises shaped like fingers.

There were bite marks on her neck and chest, and dried blood matted between her legs.

Luca stood there in a white coat. "Increase the dosage! The purity of this Colombian batch is incredible!"

"LUCA!"

My scream tore through the lab.

Luca’s hand jerked, dropping the syringe.

He spun around in terror, only to see me—covered in blood, holding a submachine gun I’d ripped from a dead guard’s hands.

Bang! Bang!

Luca’s knees exploded in a mist of red. He collapsed into a pile of shattered glass, screaming.

"Aaaargh! My legs! Ivy, you bitch, are you crazy? This is Camorra territory!"

I didn't listen. I stormed forward and stomped my heavy combat boot directly onto his groin. I ground my heel down until I felt the crush.

Another sickening crunch echoed. Luca passed out from the pain.

I frantically cut the restraints binding Lily. I looked at the needle tracks covering her arms, and tears finally broke through. "Lily, I'm here. Ivy is here. I'm taking you home..."

Suddenly, alarms blared.

Killers were swarming the facility.

I raided Luca’s safe, grabbed several bricks of C4, and coldly set the timers. "If this is hell, let's burn it clean."

BOOM—!

Amidst the chain reaction of blasts, I carried my semi-conscious sister on my back, crawling through the ventilation shafts.

After escaping the blast zone, I slumped behind a tree and dialed the number that had sent me the photo.

It was Viktor, the largest Russian arms dealer in Europe. He had been trying to poach me from Alexander for years.

"It's me," I rasped, my voice laced with finality. "I need a chopper. Now. And I need the best trauma surgeon money can buy."

The voice on the other end paused. "Did the Sicilian let you go?"

I looked down at my dying sister. The light in my eyes died, replaced by a bottomless abyss of hate.

"He didn't. So I'm starting a war."