Chapter 175

His face roils and burns like some monstrous thing hidden beneath burlap. I don’t know what’s going to burst out: rage or curses or cold, furious death.

He sighs with disappointment. “So much for the quiet obedient archetype of a perfect woman. It seems you need to be taught a lesson, same as my useless daughter.”

He raises his own hand to return the favor I just gave him. To be honest, I’m actually relieved—I can handle a slap or two. If he thinks that is what will break me, he is dead fucking wrong.

I just make sure to tighten my hold on Mischa so he’s not hurt.

And then⁠—

“You so much as touch my wife and I’ll make you eat every finger on that hand before I cut your throat from ear to ear.”

Vittorio’s hand freezes in place as we all whirl towards the doorway where my husband stands. Tall and proud and undeniable, his expression black with fury.

I want to be relieved. I want to fall into his arms and cry tears of joy.

But I can’t. Not yet.

Because every single man in this room is loyal to the Zanetti don.

Every single man in this room has a weapon in their hands.

Every single man in this room is ready to unleash death in every direction as soon as Vittorio gives the order.

And I’m standing in the center of it all with my infant son.

47

DMITRI

“I wouldn’t be so quick to threaten the man who has your wife and child in hand.”

“I’m not particularly frightened of your hands, Vittorio,” I answer coolly. “And you’re running out of additional help.”

That gets his attention. His eyes flare wide as he glances around to realize that, while he was gawking at me in the front entryway, my men were infiltrating the house from every other side. The army he thought stood at his back is now gagged and bound on the floor, my troops standing tall over them.

“What—”

“Like I said, it’s over, Vittorio. You’ve used up your last life. But if you let Wren walk over to me, I promise to take it quickly.”

He glowers. “That’s not as attractive an offer as you think it is, Egorov.”

“Considering what I have planned for your death, I’d grab it now while it’s on the table. Better to live as a coward than die a brave man.”

“That’s where you and I differ,” he snarls, skin pale and eyes wild.

“We differ in many ways,” I remark as I saunter toward him with my gun held loosely. “For example, I would move mountains to protect my child—whereas you would throw yours to the wolves in an instant if it meant saving your own skin.”

Vittorio nods triumphantly. “And if I’m willing to do that with my own flesh and blood… think what I’m capable of doing with yours.”

He raises his hand and strokes back a lock of Wren’s hair. She shudders silently but doesn’t move. I want to reassure her, but I can’t—not yet. Not until I’ve made the world safe for her and our son.

Stay strong, baby. I’m almost done.

“How did you find me?” Vittorio asks, as though he can’t stop himself from asking.

“I had a little help.”

Vittorio’s eyes widen. “That Irish fucking scumbag! He’ll pay for⁠—”

“Seriously, Papa, this is getting pathetic now.” Vittorio freezes as Bee’s voice fills the room just before she joins me. She brandishes her own pistol and gives her father a greeting nod. “If I were you, I’d surrender and preserve what little dignity you have left.”

“Y-y… you,” he hisses.

Bee nods. “Me. The prodigal daughter returneth. Or whatever. I was never much of one for Bible stories.”

He bares his teeth, gawking at her in disbelief. “I can’t… How…?”

I throw her an annoyed glance. “You were supposed to stay in the car.”

She gives me a look in return. “You really thought I was gonna pass up the chance to watch my father die?” Her gaze veers pointedly to him. “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s sweat beginning to form on Vittorio’s brow. “Beatrice… Bee, tesoro… Would you really hurt your own father?”

She tosses her head back and guffaws as though he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. “Come on, Papa! It’s only fair that I return the favor. Especially considering you were the one who arranged the hit on me.”

“I… I took no pleasure in⁠—”

“Oh, bullshit!” Bee barks. “Every time you took that whip to my back, you fucking reveled in it. You really expect me to believe that my death was any different?”

“Bee—”

“It’s over, Papa,” she says firmly. “You’re surrounded. Your men are dead and gone. The only thing you can do now is give up with a little bit of⁠—”

Before she can finish her sentence, Vittorio lunges at Wren.

All I can think is, Bad move.

The moment his arm moves up, Aleks calmly steps in from behind and breaks his elbow in one fell swoop.

Vittorio collapses to a moaning puddle on the ground. Aleks kicks his weapon out of the way and coaxes Wren back out of Vittorio’s reach.

I advance on the Italian don’s huddled form. He’s stammering, muttering half-broken nonsense. “Y-you can’t do this… you can’t⁠—”

“It’s already done,” I tell him coolly. “It’s time to take your lashes like a man.”

My men part and the sound of footsteps announce Cian’s appearance. He’s holding the whip in his hand. When Vittorio sees it, his cheeks turn deathly pale.

“What do you say, Papa?” Bee asks, stepping forward. “Let’s see if you can get as good as you give.”

Cian hands the whip over to her as Aleks leads Wren out of the house on my orders. She doesn’t need to see this. The others clear out slowly in their wake, leaving behind Vittorio, who stares up at the loose circle that surrounds him.

“You would r-really do this to an old m-man?” he stutters, abandoning even the appearance of bravery now that there’s no one around to watch.

“You’re no man,” Bee spits. She crouches down so that she’s at eye level with him. “I want you to know something, dear father. I want you to know that if you’d been a half-decent person, a parent who simply accepted me for who I am, things could have been so different. Not only am I capable of running your empire, I’m capable of making it thrive. Look what I did to you in a few months from beyond the grave.”

Vittorio’s eyes bulge as he realizes the obvious connection. “Locksmith,” he hisses. “You were… are…”