Chapter 4

Vincenzo crossed the ruined hall and dropped to one knee beside me.

He pulled an epinephrine auto-injector from the emergency kit one of his men had brought and pressed it against my thigh.

The medication burned as it entered my system.

Slowly, painfully, I managed to draw a fuller breath.

He wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

His touch was careful. It felt wrong coming from a man Chicago called a butcher.

"Sorry I was late,"he said.

I looked into his eyes.

Rocco had spent ten years treating me as if I belonged to him. Vincenzo looked at me as if I had a choice.

Behind him, Rocco dragged himself out from the broken stone and raised his gun.

"The Santoro family storms into my territory with guns?"Rocco shouted. "You're declaring war!"

Vincenzo stayed beside me. His hand remained under my elbow when my legs gave out.

He snapped his fingers.

The hall filled with the metallic clicks of rifles being readied.

"Rocco,"Vincenzo said, rising to his feet. "Look around."

Rocco's face drained of color.

His guards were on their knees.

Santoro men held guns to their heads.

More armed men stood by the ruined wall, their weapons aimed at every exit.

Rocco grabbed his phone and called his lieutenant.

"Where the hell are you?"he yelled. "Why aren't you here?"

A strained voice came through the speaker.

"Boss, the docks were hit. The Santoro family took the shipment—thirty million dollars’ worth of weapons. Our people are pinned down at the port."

Rocco's mouth opened.

That shipment carried Falcone's future.

The buyer had already paid a deposit.

Now the cargo was gone, and Rocco would have to answer for it.The Russians wouldn't accept excuses, and his rivals would smell weakness the moment word got out.

He had already used that money to cover last quarter's losses.

"That's impossible,"Rocco said. "Only core members knew that route."

His head swung toward me.

"You."His gun lifted again. "Sofia, you sold out the family."

I let out a short laugh.

"When you threw me out, did you ever think this day would come?"

Rocco pointed the barrel at my chest.

Weapons clicked around us.

Vincenzo stepped closer, placing his body between Rocco and me.

"Go ahead," he said. "Let’s see if your gun fires before one of my twenty does."

Rocco's finger rested on the trigger. His hand shook.

For once, he looked small.

He lowered the gun.

Claire rushed across the hall and fell to her knees in front of him.

"Rocco, I have a plan. I know people who can get us the money. Give me three days, and I'll save the family."

"You're sure?"

"I swear. Sofia only knows guns,but I know money.I have an MBA, and I have connections she could never dream of. Let me prove it."

A laugh pressed against my ribs.

Claire still thought a polished resume and a few impressive names could save her from men who collected debts with bullets.

Rocco believed her anyway.

His face changed. Pride returned to it, fragile and ugly.

"Do you see that, Sofia?"he said. "This is the woman I need. A woman with a brain. Not some gun-crazy bitch."

Vincenzo's voice cut through the hall.

"Sofia. Come with me."

I shifted forward.

Rocco caught my wrist.

His grip brought back too much—the locked room, the dust in my lungs, his voice telling me I had nowhere to go.

"He wants the information you have on Falcone,"Rocco said. "Once he uses you, he'll throw you away."

He pointed at Vincenzo.

"If you leave with him, I won't take you back."

Vincenzo watched him without moving.

"Vincenzo is the coldest executioner in Chicago,"Rocco continued. "His last five mistresses died ugly deaths."

I looked at Vincenzo.

He gave Rocco nothing.

"I explain myself to nobody,"he said.

The words could have cut me loose. Instead, they landed cleanly. He had arrived when I called. He had brought an army. He had knelt beside me while Rocco stood over me with a gun.

"Rocco,"I said, pulling my wrist from his hand, "you keep confusing everyone with yourself. Nobody is sleeping with everyone in this room. Vincenzo and I have a partnership."

Rocco's face twisted.

"You'll regret this, Sofia. When I get through this crisis, you'll crawl back and beg me to forgive you."

Vincenzo slid an arm around my waist.

His hold stayed firm while my breathing steadied.

"You should move fast,"he told Rocco. "In three days, the Falcone family will disappear from Chicago."

He lifted one hand.

His men raised their weapons and formed around us.

Rocco stood beside Claire, trapped inside the wreckage of his own home.

He still held his gun, though it was useless against the men surrounding him.

Vincenzo guided me toward the broken wall.

Claire leaned close to Rocco before we crossed the threshold.

"Don't worry,"she whispered. "I already called my Wall Street mentor. He can help us raise the money."

Her words followed me into the night.

Vincenzo's hand stayed at my waist as we walked away.