Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
The second goon recovers and charges like a bull, tackling me into the staircase. The impact sends a painful jolt up my spine, but I wrap my legs around the goon’s waist and flip him into the other one. They both crash to the floor, and I slam my fist into the goon’s temple once, twice—until he goes limp.
My grandfather—correction, my father—remains calm, almost amused, as I stand, panting. He slowly brings his hands together in mock applause.
“Impressive, Vinnie. Now tell me, son, what’s your next move?”
I wipe a smear of blood from my lip and dart to the side table, diving for my gun, but my father steps forward, drawing his own weapon just as I get mine. We’re faced off, our guns aimed at each other’s chests. The room falls into a tense silence.
The man who sired me smirks.
“You won’t do it. You don’t have it in you.”
I tighten my finger on the trigger. “I killed Puzo.”
“Indirectly.” He crinkles his forehead. “I’m not so sure you have the balls to get your own hands dirty.”
“I have nothing left to lose, old man.”
I fire the gun. The bullet slams into my father’s chest, and he stumbles back, a stunned expression crossing his face. He looks down, his hand clutching his suit jacket.
But then I notice.
No blood.
I go to him, rip open his shirt.
Sure enough, a bulletproof vest.
He lets out a cold, dark chuckle. “I’m afraid you’ll find this old man still has a few tricks up his sleeve.” He stares daggers into me from the floor. “I own you, Vincent. Your name should be Mario Bianchi, Junior. But I’ll let you keep his name. Consider it a gift from the man who fathered you.” He looks down at his vest, chuckling lightly. “And I won’t punish you for this. In fact, I’m proud of you. I would’ve probably done the same thing in your shoes, which is why I was prepared.”
Rage.
Pure rage. The kind that blurs your vision and roars in your ears, demanding action, any action, just to release the fury burning inside. It’s the kind that makes your hands shake, your body tense, and your thoughts spiral out of control, searching for something—anything—to destroy.
But I hold it in.
I hold it fucking in.
I will never concede.
But at this point, I have to let my grandfather think that I am.
“All right, Grandfather.”
He clears his throat, glaring at me.
I draw in a breath. “Father,” I say. “I’ll be on that plane tonight.”
“Good,” he says. “Your life begins tonight, Vincent. You will see what awaits you.”
1
RAVEN
Several hours earlier…
The service for Vinnie and Savannah’s mother is over. Jared, my bodyguard, and I walk out of the church. We awkwardly dogleg to avoid the receiving line. I don’t want to look at Vinnie. I’m only here because my brother is engaged to the daughter of the deceased.
As we reach the parking lot, I hear a buzz from my purse.
I reach in, but it’s not my normal phone that vibrated.
It’s the burner.
I’ve been carrying it around with me just in case the Uber driver—or whoever is on the other end—needs to get in touch with me.
Jared’s eyebrows rise when I pull it out. “What did they say?”
I pull up the text. Three simple words send my heart into violent tremors.
You’re in danger.
“What does it say?” Jared asks again, this time with more of an edge to his voice.
I hand him the phone.
His eyes widen. “Who sent this?”
I gulp. “I don’t know. I’ve had this phone since I took that Uber ride home from Austin. When the driver pulled over, scared the hell out of me, and told me I needed to invite Vinnie over for dinner that Friday night.”
“So this is his phone?”
“It’s the phone he gave me.”
Jared snatches the phone out of my hand. “I need to take this. See if we can trace the phone number.”
“It’s a burner phone,” I say.
“Yeah, most likely. But I have to do my job, Raven.” He examines the phone’s screen. “If you’re in danger, as this text indicates that you are, then I—”
“You need to protect me,” I finish for him. “Yes, I know the drill.”
He frowns. “You need to take this more seriously.”
“Believe me, Jared, I take it very seriously. I just…” I shake my head. “I just attended a funeral for a woman. A woman who seemed to be in perfect health only days ago when I saw her and ate dinner at her house. A woman who meant the world to Vinnie and Savannah. Before that, my brother and Leif found surveillance equipment in my home. My home, Jared. And yes, I know that’s why you’re here. Why I need you to be here. Why I need a freaking bodyguard.” I sit down on the curb, rubbing at the sides of my face. “My life for the past several years has been surreal. Nightmarish, truly. I was sick, wondering if I’d even live. But I’m alive, Jared. I’m alive, and I feel good. At least I should feel good. I kicked cancer’s ass, and I fell in love. But I don’t feel good. I feel bad. Someone’s watching me. The man I love is in danger. Belinda, his eleven-year-old bride-to-be, is in danger. I can’t help either one of them.”