by Soraya Naomi
“Get off me!” I yell when he tries to capture my flailing arms and pull them back to incapacitate me.
As I jerk my body, he grumbles, “If you don’t do this, we’re both dead, Fallon!”
“Fuck you!” With all my strength, I hurl him off and stretch my arm to touch my purse, but he grips my hair that’s tied into a bun and tugs me back and up.
“Ow!” My hands shoot to my hair as I straighten and force us backward, hurling him against the couch so fast that we both topple backward, over the tall back, and he releases my hair as we fall on the floor. Rolling away from him, I surge up before he does and run around the couch, loose strands of hair obscuring my vision. He grasps my ankles, making me collapse forward, but I break my fall with my hands as my knees bang on the floor. I crane my neck to see him crawling toward me lightning fast and grabbing a fistful of my hair again, stretching my throat while we both breathe raggedly.
“Fuck! Why can’t you just cooperate?”
“Because you made a fucking mess, idiot!” I yell, and his features sharpen as his nostrils flare. “You want to stay within the Syndicate but you aid an enemy! You’re the moron here!”
He recoils for a moment, and then hatred clouds his features. “Am I the moron? I managed to fuck with you. And I’ve tried to offer a solution, but if you won’t help me, I’ll find another member to blackmail. I should’ve targeted Cam or Mary; you’re too cunning!” he says, sitting on my back while I buck.
“Fuck! Ah! You won’t get away with this!” I try to roll over as he lets go of my hair and backhands my cheek so hard that my head flies to the side, and I see stars for a second while being pressed on my stomach as he curses a string of profanities.
I lift my hips and he loses his balance, so I manage to turn over, and then, as I’ve learned during kickboxing lessons, I kick him in the softest part of his stomach to heave him off me. He falls backward with a bang, his head almost hitting the couch as I scramble up.
Sprinting to the island, I dig into my purse for my Smith & Wesson and bring it up with both hands just when Tez jumps up and comes at me.
“Stop! Or I’ll shoot!” I warn, making his palms fly up.
“You need me as much as I need you!”
“Shut up!” I yell because I need to assemble my rampant thoughts.
Although I’m storming with rage as I hold his nasty gaze. I lean to the side without taking my eyes off him and search for the silencer in my purse until I feel the cold metal and screw it on, my finger continuously on the trigger.
His eyes widen so that the whites are entirely visible. “Think about what the consequences will be. If you shoot, the only person who can clear things up for you will be gone!”
“No,” I counter as memories of my family that’s breaking apart invade me and I feel stronger with my weapon. “You didn’t think things through. You’ve confessed so much of your plan to me that you gave me the missing pieces of the puzzle. I have Rudd’s number, and I can support my story now with the footage.”
“No one will believe you,” he says arrogantly.
“They will now. See, if I have just one shred of evidence, they’ll back me. You forget that I rank much higher than you as the underboss’s wife. You’re just an unofficial member who kisses ass to management.”
Clenching his jaw, he takes one step closer, but luckily, there are still several feet between us.
“Don’t move,” I throw back his own words.
Aggravated, he glances at the grey afternoon sky and then suddenly springs forward. “You’re not going to shoot. Put it down.”
Everyone keeps underestimating me, and I panic when he doesn’t stop as he quickly approaches me. Then, without hesitating once, I pull the trigger. A soft thud releases and hits the side of his stomach, red infusing his trench coat as he wobbles sideways, staring at me with shock. His palm flies to his bloodied waist when he stumbles over the armrest of the couch and then tumbles back, banging the back of his head onto the edge of the oak coffee table to drop between the two pieces of furniture.
“Oh, fuck!” I murmur with shaking arms, still pointing my revolver as I creep forward.
His motionless frame lies there with eyes closed, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Terrified, I don’t dare to touch him, even though it looks like he’s dead.
I can hear my panicked breaths roaring in my eardrums as I stand with trembling legs and the gun drops from my grasp, hitting the hardwood floor with a loud clunk. In complete disbelief, I gape at the body that’s sprawled by the couch, its beige fabric splattered with crimson streaks, and the stench of gunpowder infuses the air as I wipe the sweat from my upper lip.
“Oh my god!” Clutching my hair with my hands, I edge backward, away from the horrific crime scene, not knowing what to do. Not even Luca will be able to help me now.
Absolutely freaked, I run past the couch and go left down the hall, but when I reach our master bedroom, the elevator swooshes open and I stop.
Luca steps out and turns right into the kitchen, scrubbing a palm over his square, neatly trimmed jaw as he flings his keys onto the island. As always, his muscular, six-foot frame radiates power and control and his disheveled dark hair topples over his forehead, giving him a forbidding look.
Glancing to the side, he spots the blood on the couch cushions and freezes. Then, with infinite slowness, his gaze moves up and he looks down the hall to where I nervously stand in the doorway of our room. Our eyes meet, and his hard stare doesn’t release me from its hold.
Taking one step forward, he peeks between the couch and coffee table before his unrelenting glare lands back on me and he advances toward me, barking, “What have you done?!”
On instinct, I inch backward into the bedroom, but he grips my upper arms and lifts me to my tiptoes, repeating, “Fallon, what did you do?!”
My vision blurs as I say, “I-I had to defend myself! I’m innocent!”
Even though I’m not short, he towers over me, and as I smell his familiar citrus scent, I clench my fists to keep from pushing my hands into the V of his dress shirt, fighting the pull I feel toward him.
“And I’ve told you to obey me!” He releases me as if I’ve burned him, but neither of us moves as he ignores my profession of innocence.
I’m so tired of him being the underboss these days – constantly. The man who explains himself to no one yet expects everyone to submit to him.
His deep voice exudes sensuality as it skitters over my flesh, until his tone becomes dangerously low when he adds, “I don’t know what to do with you anymore...” Anger sweeps across his face as he glowers at me, and then all the sorrow of the past few weeks blisters to the surface while his vivid green eyes bore into me. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Fallon!” Spinning around, he moves to the vanity and looks at me in the mirror, clenching his jaw before swiping everything off, his tightly leashed self-control gone.
He isn’t the man who saved me and took care of me anymore. He’s no longer the man who promised to love me for the rest of my life and beyond on our wedding day.
“What are you going to do?” I ask hesitantly.
Turning around, he rubs a hand down his mouth and states resolutely, “You’re going to the Syndicate.”
“No!” Without thinking, I barge out of the room, hearing him curse when I escape.
“Fallon!” he roars and comes after me down the hall.
But I dash into the living room, jumping over the couch and snatching the revolver from the floor before racing across the room to the front door with him close behind.
When I reach the elevator, I press the button, swivel around, and aim the gun at Luca’s forehead, already knowing I’m screwed because I murdered a Syndicate member.
He stops dead in his tracks at first but then inches forward and orders in a lethal tone, “Lower the gun.”
CHAPTER 31
Luca
“LOWER THE GUN,” I SAY to Fallon, terror slinking inside beca
use her disheveled appearance tells me she might be hurt.
“Don’t come any closer!” She directs her pistol steadily at me, so I halt.
Then I notice a trail of blood dripping from her nose. “Are you hurt?” I demand just when the elevator opens and she treads backward.
Her frenzied amber eyes frighten me as she pushes the button for the ground floor without moving her gaze from me. “The Syndicate hurts me!”
As the door begins to glide closed, I bellow, “No, we have go to the club to—” but then it shuts entirely before I get the chance to inform her that we were already summoned to Club 7 by Adriano.
I swing my fist into the wall, once, twice, pain splintering through my knuckles. “Motherfucker!” Then I unclench my hand, and as I turn back to the sofa, I yank my phone from my pocket and dial Michael.
“Hey, Luca,” he answers as I dip down toward Tez’s body and press my fingers into his pulse, which is very weak.
I don’t understand what the fuck Tez was doing in my home! Have I made the grave mistake of underestimating my own wife?
“You need to come to my apartment. Now! Fallon ran out.” It infuriates me just as much as it worries me that she’s out in the world alone, most likely thinking that I wanted to hand her over.
“What? I’m home. I’ll be there in a sec.” Michael cuts the call just as I notice Fallon’s phone on the floor against the window.
I snap it up to unlock her screen and see that her last call was made to Tez while I contemplate where she would run to?
At that moment, the elevator opens and Michael marches in, throwing on his black jacket and stopping when he reaches me. He looks down at Tez sprawled between the couch and the table, unconscious and possibly half dead.
“What the fuck happened?” Michael asks.
“Tez fought with Fallon, obviously, and I think she shot him. I came home and she was all over the place and threatened me so that she could escape.” I explain as he frowns at me in disbelief and I continue, “I don’t know exactly what happened yet! You need to stay here and call Marc to take care of this mess! I have to find her.” In a violent haze, I pace to the door to press the button so that the elevator opens and bang on the button to take me down. Fear of losing Fallon makes me weak.
I never thought I could feel more petrified than after Noah’s accident, but not knowing exactly where Fallon is right now paralyzes me to an extent I’ve never experienced.
“Where are you going to search for her?” Michael questions, disconcerted.
“I know where she’ll go,” I say with conviction as chilling emotions rebel inside me.
CHAPTER 32
Fallon
WHEN I WALK OUT OF the elevator at the Blackhall, I untuck my white top to slide my gun into my front waistband and hide it beneath the fabric. Then I pass the reception area where the man is engrossed in his smartphone before bursting out the front entrance into the mid-afternoon hustle and bustle. The wind kicks up, slapping my cheeks with stinging drops of rain as I careen through the pedestrians, who I notice are staring at me. After wiping my nose, I see blood on my hand, but I keep going, running on pure adrenaline.
What will happen to me?
Luca was livid and ready to turn me over to the Syndicate. No one will believe me now that Tez is dead. It hits me that I’ve changed so much that the fact that I killed a man doesn’t faze me as much as the fact that I have an unknown future. Regardless, there’s only one place I can go to calm down and, hopefully, find an ally. So I ignore the coldness permeating my damp clothes when I dodge a car to cross the intersection and rush down the stairs of the subway. I keep my eyes fixed to the ground to avoid the gazes of others, my vision pooling and the long, wet strands of my mahogany hair that have come undone from my bun are plastered around my face.
I get on the subway, and with all my power, I swallow back tears until I reach my stop, hurrying to exit the car and hiking up the concrete staircase.
Once I’m back outside, the sky is becoming greyer and darker. Impatiently, I jaywalk at the red light to race across the street toward the posh glass high-rise named Astoria Tower where Adriano and Cam live, where my children are.
Shivering, I run through the doors but come to a full stop.
My heart sinks to my feet when I see who’s awaiting me at the white desk of the reception area.
CHAPTER 33
Luca
I STAND INSIDE THE immaculate white reception area of the Astoria Tower, nervously twirling my phone in my hand, and when it rings, I bring it up to my ear.
“What the fuck’s going on? Why is Michael calling to update me instead of my underboss?” Adriano roars, so I hold the phone away.
“Calma. I almost have Fallon.”
“Where the fuck are you?”
“The Astoria. I know she’ll come here,” I respond while apprehension clamors inside my gut as the doors open, but a middle-aged woman strolls in to greet the guy behind the desk and continues toward the elevators.
“You’re at my place? Where exactly?”
“The reception area.”
“So what are you planning to do? There could be civilian witnesses there. Michael told me she ran out. Is she hurt? Is she bloodied and running around the Loop? What if the cops see her? I’m having everyone keep an eye out for her.”
“No one touches Fallon!” I bark, losing it with Adriano. “I swear to god...”
He warns, “Luca, this is out of control and so are both of you!”
“Christ! I know that. But I’m positive she’ll come to the twins!”
“This is a fucking dangerous mess. I’m coming there now!” He hangs up before I can protest, and as I stash my phone in my pocket, the doors slide open again, and Fallon comes barging in.
She’s soaked from the rain, looking frantic with purple marks around her nose as if she’s bruising, and when her fearful gaze lands on me, her entire face falls.
The receptionist frowns. “Miss, are you okay?”
But I stride forward while she’s still as a statue and answer him, “It’s fine; she’s my wife.”
I approach her calmly and motion over to the left so that we can talk out of range of the receptionist. When she doesn’t move or react except for the quivering of her chin, I cock my head, silently advising her not to push me.
She closes her eyes in defeat and hesitantly walks in front of me to the empty seating area. In the meantime, the guy keeps glancing at us, so I stand with my back to him and block Fallon from view. Scanning her body, I don’t see any apparent injuries other than on her face.
“I’m going to ask this once and I expect an answer,” I start quietly. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She purses her trembling, pale lips together.
When I inch closer and she flinches, I stop, my soul receiving a blow from the suspicious look she sends me.
“We don’t have much time. Adriano’s coming here, and I need to know what happened.”
“Why? It’s not as if you’ll protect me,” she spits. “Get out of my way. I want to be with my kids.”
“No, you’re in shock and we need to leave here, away from any witnesses.”
She clutches her hair in despair. “I want my kids.”
“Okay, then tell me what happened. Where’s your gun?”
“In my waistband.” Her shoulders sag as she studies me, exhaustion and the reality of the situation setting in. Then her anger spews out, “I told all of you that Tez isn’t to be trusted! He’s the one behind the raid on New Year’s Eve!”
I rear back, surprised about this new piece of information.
“Did you know that your bar owner Rudd has a brother who’s a judge and was a regular at the sex club?” She waits for an answer, so I shake my head. “He’s up for justice. But Judge Rudd likes girls and boys, and he heard one of your girls in the sex club talk about the hidden cameras down there. He wants the footage now and has threatened Tez to get it or he’ll simply kill him. And he got his b
rother to help him and let him get murdered. Tez admitted how he spoofed the message to me and that Rudd hired the attacker to fuck with us. Then Tez thought I’d be desperate for help, so he deleted all traces on my phone of being hacked before Henry checked it, and he also kept messing with me, like I told you.”
“To what end?”
“So that I would find out where the footage is from you, and then he would delete it after making a copy for Rudd. In return for my help, he would pin proof of the spoofing and what happened to Noah on a random soldier.”
This is a very detailed story, which makes me think it must be true, although there are some holes.
“Stop looking at me like I’m stupid!” Unexpectedly, Fallon blows up, overwhelmed by her feelings, and it hurts the husband inside me. “Tez is the guilty party, yet I’m being used in your Syndicate games. This is what your mafia has done to me! You teach me to be more observant, but you bail on me when I tell you something’s off! He came to blackmail me and when I tried to get my gun, we fought and I shot him in self-defense. Now I need to see my kids! I can’t rely on you.”
I block her path as she fumes, fishing her phone from my pocket. “Look, I have your phone. Why did you call Tez?”
Her brows knit together before her words tumble out, “He called himself with my phone when he was inside the penthouse and told me it was insurance. But he made a mistake.” She points at the screen. “Look at the length of that call: it’s not even three seconds because he hung up immediately.”
I swipe the screen and click on the details of the call, verifying that she’s correct, so I stash the device back and drill her, “How did Tez get inside the apartment?”
“He went behind the reception desk when it was unattended and got our code to open the elevator upstairs.”
“That’s almost impossible. It’s never unattended.”
