If he even thought about denying me, I was sure she’d have something to say about it. A woman would sacrifice all for her children.
I strode for the door, Jackson falling into step beside me.
“What now?” he asked.
I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket, glancing at Renzo’s scrawled handwriting. A list of names and addresses of Outfit members. He wasn’t thrilled about giving it to me, but I knew he knew that Sergio was a risk to Emilia.
Sergio would never find out she had killed Roberto, but that wasn’t the only target on her back. Sergio had seen me with her at The Yama, had possibly heard from Matteo what I’d done to him, the claim I’d so possessively stamped on her… He had to know by now that she was my weakness. And in war, all weaknesses must be exploited. I knew he sure as fuck wouldn’t spare her for sharing his blood.
* * *
I didn’t go for the capos on the list because I had other plans for them. Instead, we waited for nightfall and went to a bar. Outfit owned. Teaming with their soldiers. At least it was.
I glanced around at the twenty or so dead bodies littering the place. Blood spilled across the hardwoods like some kind of morbid sacrifice to a dark god. Nero would be so proud.
The last soldier was currently pinned to a table, two blades rammed through his biceps as he coughed up blood. Jackson loomed over him like his own personal reaper, promising to steal his soul.
“Where the fuck is Sergio Donato?” he asked again.
The man hadn’t answered five minutes ago, and now I wasn’t sure he physically could. He was bleeding out, and we had no adrenaline with us to help this along.
He coughed again, attempting to roll to the side so he didn’t choke, but he cried out as the blades sliced into him with every move. “I don’t… I don’t…”
“You don’t know?” Jackson asked, and the man nodded jerkily.
“That’s a shame.”
Jackson placed a gun to the man’s head, the pop of the silencer signaling his end. We’d asked, five? Maybe six of them the same thing, but these were just soldiers. Commanded by a capo. The capo might know where Sergio was. Kill enough of their men, and I was sure they’d hand him over.
It was really a question of who they feared more. Him or me?
Turning away from the blood bath, I took out my phone and called Howard. Sure enough, he picked up after only a couple of rings.
“Guerra,” he said curtly, his voice nasal, no doubt from his swollen nose.
“Baccio Rosso. You’ll find your bodies there. I want The Outfit buried, Howard. Tie them up in bullshit on every legal business they have.” Then I hung up.
This was only the beginning, but I would make Sergio and anyone who supported him regret crossing me. Their only out would be to turn their backs on him. Then I would flush him out like a starving rat.
I slid my phone into my pocket and glanced at Jackson. “Find their capo.” I tossed him the folded slip of paper Renzo had given me. “Get Sergio’s location. I’ll meet you back home.”
Jackson nodded, a sick smile working over his lips. I’d lost track of how many men he’d ended today, but he was always thirsty for more. I pretended I was better, but it was only because I didn’t allow myself to indulge in the violence that clawed at me like a rabid beast.
I would, though. As soon as I found Sergio, he would see exactly how blood-thirsty I truly was.
5
EMILIA
I remained under the scalding spray of the shower until my skin stung and my head swam from the heat. Then I stepped out, wrapped myself in a towel, and sat down on the bathmat before I passed out. This had become somewhat of a routine to me now, one of many coping mechanisms.
I wanted to hide away, to wallow in my grief, to disappear. I wished to forget and be forgotten, but Gio wouldn’t allow that. For days he’d been relentless, forcing me to remain present and aware. No matter how much I didn’t want to be.
He’d tied me to his bed, touched me, hurt me in all the ways I’d come to crave, torn down every wall I’d erected around my mind, and dragged me from my state of blissful numbness back into this world of pain and blood.
It hurt. Everything hurt, and he was my only salvation from myself. He’d become my cure, my medicine, my drug of choice, and I was addicted in the most toxic way.
When he wasn’t here, everything became unbearable, and I sought my own brand of distraction. He was away yesterday and last night, and I was spiraling, falling into that deep, dark abyss.