Chapter 3

I trailed behind him, carrying his bag. I skipped out on things with him, ran the same streets he did, then built my place in the crew at his side.

We never once put a name to what we were, but to everyone in the life, we were a pair.

Associates and partnered factions teased us about it, and Lorenzo never bothered to correct them. I'd let myself believe he felt for me what I felt for him.

Until Vittoria showed up and shattered that pretty little dream.

Somewhere along the way, the boy who once shielded me, who once treasured me, had turned into someone I couldn't stand to look at.

My phone rang again. When I saw the name saved on the screen, Carmela Marchetti, I froze, and it took me a long time to answer.

"Adriana, Lorenzo's at the Linan Hotel, room 5312. He's been drinking. Go get him and bring him home right now."

Carmela Marchetti's frantic voice carried through the line, and my first thought was that Lorenzo truly loved Vittoria.

He knew he couldn't drink, and he'd stepped in and done it anyway so Vittoria wouldn't have to.

"Move faster. He's allergic to it. If something happens to him, can you carry that on your shoulders?"

"The Marchetti household took you in and raised you all these years, and you drag your feet over one small thing. What a waste, feeding you all this time."

When I didn't agree right away, Carmela's tone soured, and I could almost hear the rings turning on her fingers.

The refusal caught in my throat, and in the end I still answered, "All right, Aunt Carmela. I'm on my way."

The door to room 5312 at the Linan Hotel stood wide open, and unease stirred in me for no reason I could name. This was neutral ground, a place made men came to talk over wine and no blood was supposed to be spilled. That was exactly why it felt wrong.

But another prodding message from Carmela popped up on my phone, and I had no chance to think it through.

I stepped into the dark room, and the next second, the door slammed shut behind me with a bang, and Vittoria's gloating voice exploded in my ear.

"Adriana, Lorenzo said this is what you get for defying him. Enjoy the time you've got left."

I lunged for the door and yanked at it, but it wouldn't budge.

The lights flared on all at once, and when I saw how the room was laid out, a shudder ran through my whole body.

Not just because of the chains and the whips, but because of a face I could never forget.

"Long time no see, Miss Falcone. I told you you'd better not fall into my hands, or I'd finish you."

The man sitting on the bed had a huge gut, and a lewd grin spread across his face. A scar ran from the corner of his eye down to his chin, hideous to look at.

His name was Gennaro Rizzo, once an associate who moved product alongside the Marchetti crew, and the thing men in the life despised about him most was how lecherous he was.

He'd set his sights on me before, and after I turned him down, he'd tried to drug me and force himself on me. To get away, I'd smashed him with a liquor bottle. That scar was mine to claim.

"Gennaro, this is against the code. Neutral ground, in front of God and everyone. I've already sent word to the Feds. Turn back now, while there's still time."

I forced myself to stay calm and pulled out my phone, trying to scare him off. My free hand found my mother's jade pendant at my throat and closed around it.

But Gennaro just laughed like he'd heard some great joke, throwing his head back, and came toward me one step at a time. His thumb dragged slow across the old scar on his face.

"You still don't get the situation, do you? That fresh young thing your crew sent over to seal the pact, she's a tender one. She was the one I wanted, but Lorenzo couldn't bear to give her up, so I had to make him hand you over instead."

"Go on, call your Feds. The cameras are still rolling. By the time they show up, your little picture show will be all over the underworld, and every boss in the city will just say you spread your legs for the arrangement. Take my advice and behave. Make it fun for me, and maybe I'll even let you off."

Only then did I notice the countless cameras around me, red lights glowing, and a bleak cold spread through my chest.

Lorenzo knew exactly how much Gennaro hated me, knew that falling into his hands meant I'd be lucky to walk out with my skin, and he'd still delivered me to the door, all to protect Vittoria. He'd traded away his own blood to seal a pact with a rival faction, and there was no honor code low enough to name what that was.

What right did he have to throw me away like this?

Hatred rose up in me on its own, and a whip came down hard across my body, tearing open a line of blood.