nna

ab the papers. Bullie

had already anticipated his move. He was big and slow. I wa

legs could carry me, my lungs aching as I screamed at

ere uneven and sli

ent a jarring shock up my legs, scraping the skin. I didn't sto

ght up to m

rutal pressure that felt as if it bruised

o to silence the brat before she brought the Don's wrath upon them al

rified of the no

deep into Lorenzo's hand. The skin was salty and the fabric of his glo

hand away and sending me tum

e gray stone. For one terrible second,

d were abruptly stopped by the polished

oked

erboss and Consigliere. He wasn't just a man. He was a shadow

o grow dense, heavy with an

e courtyard, demanding to know who

adopting the stance of a loyal, respectful C

explaining that his future stepdaughter w

f blood making its way down my scraped knee

he cobblestones and thrust it toward the Do

fierce gaze to

n for a Made Man to move his pregnant mistress i

ifted slowly from me to Lorenzo, and the t

lanation for the e

Camilla was frail and only sta

unting down. Every Capo in the Family knew what that sound meant. It was the sound of Don Salvatore filing away a discrepancy, cataloguing a debt. I'd won. I'd really won. The Don was listening to