I didn’t return the hug. I stared at the Armanelli family’s king.
Bastian’s gaze was as unwavering as mine. “Katalina.”
“Bastian,” I replied in the same tone.
Two leaders, enemies, captains of an army, studied each other before they fought. Some could sit down and enjoy a meal together, talk over their options and even decide on a fair fight.
Bastian scrutinized me like I was a new formidable opponent. Before, he’d hugged me hello, held me on his arm, and let me into his home. He’d cooked me dinner, left me unattended with his trust, poked a finger into the holes of my socks.
Now, his attention never strayed from me. I wasn’t a beautiful, useful tool to him anymore but a threat. For the first time, I witnessed a respect and fear that my bloodline must have inspired in him.
Very few had ever looked past my beauty. It was what I flaunted, what I knew how to exaggerate. Tonight, every single one of them would witness my mind instead, would realize I’d been a part of their mafia as more than just bait.
Dante whispered in my ear, “We practiced for this. Remember?”
Every time he’d beaten me to the ground on those practice mats at the gym, he’d held out his hand. “Each of these losses prepare you for the one thing you have to learn. Every fall makes you stronger than the one who’s never fallen before. Get back up, face them again, and beat them.”
As Dante stepped around me toward the sink to wash my knife, I took a breath and pointed at Bastian. “Your father used to ask me questions every now and then. He’d whisper them to me at a meeting he’d let me attend, ask me over the phone with Jimmy. Do you think Mario kept me around just to tempt other men, find information on them for the family?”
“No one kept you around for that, Katie,” Bastian replied, folding his hands together over his lap. That gold ring shined on his finger, mocking me with what it represented. Only a few of the top family members wore one. All the men in the room had them on.
Not me.
“Let’s all sit down and talk.” Bastian motioned toward Rome’s couch where Cade sat, looking completely out of his element. He’d put away the technology that was normally an extension of his arm and gave us his full attention. Dante stood by me, like he’d be on my side no matter what.
I felt Rome’s hand on the small of my back, maybe for support or maybe to keep me close enough to know my next move.
Bastian pointed to the chair across from him, a lone one with metal arms but leather upholstery. The metal wouldn’t scrape against any cement if I pulled it toward me before I sat. The leather wouldn’t feel as uncomfortable as a folding chair. The interrogation probably wouldn’t be as intense either.
Still, I wouldn’t be in the hot seat tonight.
I hadn’t done anything wrong.
“I’m not sitting down.” I brushed away Rome’s hand from my back. “You all take a seat, huh? You answer the questions tonight, not me.”
Delivering the command and telling them exactly what was on my mind liberated me. Freedom is powered by purpose and a relentless drive to overcome your captor. I’d been captive to the family’s idea of me for too long; I’d given in to the idea that I was less than I was. Buried deep down inside me, the quiet rumble of injustice turned loud and threatening. Why had no man put me on the pedestal I deserved? Why had each one taken advantage of the person who had no one after her father died?
I started to believe in myself and in my revenge in those moments. Suddenly, my life demanded I respect myself first, respect what I’d been through, and make everyone else respect me too. I realized I’d missed that part for so long. If I couldn’t respect myself, then I wouldn’t gain the respect of others.
The surge of anger, of anguish, of desperation I should have felt all these years in so many bad situations pulsed through me. For so long, I’d shrugged it off, I’d kept moving, I’d walked on.
I’d closed myself off to feeling a damn thing.
I smiled at my newfound emotions. They were demonic, demanding, and cruel. Respect could be earned, but it could be taken too. I’d do whatever needed to be done.
The world had made me this way.
I was ready to show it exactly the woman it created.
33
Rome
Men aren’t built like women. Or at least, not like Katalina.
We could never read emotions as well, navigate a room as well, or know someone else’s next move like her. She didn’t play chess. She dominated it. It was like sitting across from your opponent and realizing they had all queens lined up instead of pawns.
The fight wasn’t fair.