The men are standing just inside the front door. Their alert postures have relaxed, but a new kind of tension seems to hang over them. Hale’s expression is dark, and Zaid and Lucas look like they could kill someone. Ciro’s back is to me, but even without seeing his face, I can tell he’s pissed.
I stride toward the door and slip between their large bodies, trying to see what’s going on.
“What’s going on? What do…”
The words die on my lips as I get a glimpse of what lies on the front stoop. Lucas immediately tries to hold me back, the guys blocking the scene with their bodies, but it’s too late.
“Oh, my God.”
The image of the mauled dog will forever be seared into my mind, its head and body bashed and bloody. Sprawled out on the front step, it’s a brutal, heartbreaking sight. I can almost imagine that it’s still breathing, labored and painful, but I know it’s dead. There’s no doubt that the sound we heard came from this animal’s last cry for help, freshly killed and mutilated.
My hand comes to my mouth, trying to force back the bile that’s rising in my throat, but Lucas wraps his arms tightly around me and pushes us back into the foyer, the other men blocking the sight and quickly shutting the door behind them.
My whole body shakes and blood rushes to my ears, blocking out the words of the men surrounding me.
That was one of the most horrifying things I’ve ever seen, second only to that day at the church when my wedding was ambushed.
And this is nothing compared to what it could have been.
I was raised in the mafia. My father shielded me from the more disturbing aspects of his work, but I know that mafia life can be brutal and cruel. You step on the wrong person’s toes, and something worse than this could happen—that dog could have been replaced with a person, someone we know, a loved one.
And it was meant to send a message.
“Who the fuck decided it was a good idea to leave her alone?” Hale’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I look up to see him give Lucas and Zaid a sharp look. “What if it had been an intruder? You left her alone, unprotected.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter hoarsely, but no one is listening.
“It could have been Grace and not that dog because of your stupid—”
“I’m fine, okay?” I raise my voice a little, shaking. “Hale, I’m fine.”
At the sound of his name, he finally looks at me, eyes flashing. There’s nothing but protective rage in his dark blue eyes, fury toward whoever just dumped a dead animal on the doorstep. But they soften a little when he looks at me, and I watch him scan my body as if reassuring himself that despite the gruesome scene outside, I’m still here and in one piece.
When he realizes that I’m fine, he breaks away from the group with a curse, pacing up and down the length of the hallway.
“Are you okay?” Lucas asks softly, looking at me. Guilt twists his features.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I hate that I’m as shaken as I am, but Jesus fuck. That image is burned into my retinas. “Really, I’m okay.”
Now that the initial shock has passed, I’m more worried about the stormy look on Hale’s face as he tries to master his rage, pacing up and down the length of the foyer. He practically has smoke coming out of his ears, his body laced with vicious and barely contained fury.
He stops, taking his phone out of his pocket and tapping at the screen. He puts it to his ear, and there’s a murmur on the other end as someone answers.
“There’s been a development.” Hale swallows, fingers twitching in agitation at his side. He’s pissed, and he looks like he
wants nothing more than to tear down the whole city with his bare hands. “With Grace.”
“How does this have anything to do with me?” I whisper, shooting a glance at the other men. My heart thunders in my chest, fear slowly gripping me and spreading through my body at Hale’s words.
Zaid, Lucas, and Ciro exchange a grimace, and I almost think they’re going to refuse to tell me. That despite the fact that Hale said they had nothing to hide from me, the lies and secrets are going to start back up again. But before I can open my mouth and demand they tell me, Zaid speaks up.
“The dog…” He looks back at the door, cringing as if it pains him to speak the words he has to say. “That fucking dog. Its collar had your name on it. It wasn’t a threat to us; it was a threat to you.”
My stomach drops out. “What?”
There are so many more questions I want to ask, but I can’t force any of them out. The words die on my lips as nausea roils my stomach. My knees wobble, and Ciro reaches out to stop me from falling. His grip is reassuring, although he releases me as soon as he can tell I’m not going to keel over.
I miss his touch immediately. I need it like I need a fucking anchor, something to keep me steady in this storm.