by Lara Adrian
A jab of disgust spiked through Savage’s blood at Massioni’s manhandling of the woman.
“There was no mention of a female in the intel,” Trygg said.
“No, there wasn’t.” Savage’s reply was clipped, irritation combined with this unwanted element of surprise. “The report out of D.C. specifically stated that Massioni is unmated, so who the fuck is she?”
“Collateral damage,” Trygg replied evenly. “Pop the charges and get the hell out of there.”
Savage nodded, knowing that was sound advice.
But his thumb didn’t move on the detonator.
Something was starting to bother him about the woman the longer he stared at her. Something that gnawed at the perimeter of his memory.
“I need a closer look.”
Without waiting for confirmation from his comrade, he set the detonator down in the soft grass, then tightened the focus on his binoculars. Not on Massioni or his men, but on her. The gorgeous blonde whose heart-shaped face and pixie features seemed strangely, distantly familiar somehow.
Which was impossible, considering this female was clearly Massioni’s plaything.
The face that teased at the frayed edges of Savage’s mind—and his heart—had no place here. Not with criminals and killers like the ones assembled inside the villa that was wired to blow on his command.
Holy shit.
It couldn’t be her.
Trygg’s voice sounded in his ear. “You got problems over there?”
Savage couldn’t answer that. Not when his veins were filling with adrenaline and a sick feeling of apprehension was starting to take up space behind his sternum.
He brought the woman in closer, his eyes burning from the intensity of his unblinking stare. She was still caught within the cage of Massioni’s thick arm, smiling indulgently as the Breed male showed her off like some kind of prize to his leering friends. Showing her off as if the bastard owned her.
Fuck. Don’t let that be her.
“Status,” Trygg demanded now. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. I think the woman is…” He drew in a breath, hoping like hell he was wrong. “Christ, I think I know her.”
Trygg’s curse scraped across the earpiece. “Bad fucking time for a reunion with one of your many conquests, man. And if the bitch belongs to our target, you don’t know her now.”
No, he didn’t.
Not anymore.
Hell, not for a very long time.
As Savage watched, Massioni finally released the woman from his possessive hold. He said something to his colleagues, a remark that made them all chuckle. Then Massioni gestured at her dismissively. Her placid smile still in place, the beautiful blonde pivoted away from the men.
It wasn’t until she turned around that Savage’s suspicion was confirmed.
The proof was there on the back of her left shoulder—the scarlet mark of a Breedmate. Only the rarest of women bore the unique birthmark signifying they were something more than mortal.
The small teardrop-and-crescent-moon symbol rode this female’s shoulder in the precise spot that Savage dreaded it would.
“Son of a bitch. I don’t believe this.”
It was her.
After all this time—nearly a decade.
Arabella Genova.
Savage snarled as Massioni playfully smacked her ass, sending her on her way. Unfazed, she glided out of the room as elegantly as she’d entered a few moments ago, Savage following her progress with the field glasses held in a grip so tight they should have shattered.
Trygg was right. He didn’t know her now.
How the girl he once adored had ended up in the hands of a thug like Vito Massioni, he could only guess.
And it didn’t matter.
Savage had a job to do.
That’s what he told himself, even as he pulled the binoculars away from his face and hissed a sharp curse into the darkness.
The Bella he’d known as a girl all those years ago was just a memory. This Bella was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and on the dead wrong side of the law.
Collateral damage, just like Trygg said.
Savage knew what he had to do. The Order might never have the chance to get this close to Massioni and his lieutenants again. Everything was in place. The mission was moments away from success. All he had to do was hit the detonator.
He picked it up, staring at the trigger that would erase Massioni and his entire operation from the face of the Earth.
And, now, Bella too.
“Fuck.”
Savage raked a hand over his tightly clamped jaw. His pulse was banging in his temples, his heart slamming against his ribs with each heavy beat.
“Status,” Trygg said, a note of warning in the warrior’s gravel voice. “I don’t like what I’m hearing over there, Savage.”
He didn’t answer. Nothing he said now would put his comrade or anyone else at the command center in Rome at ease.
Savage set aside the binoculars. Then he carefully deactivated the detonator and slipped the remote into his back pocket.
“Stand by, base. I’m going back in.”
Chapter 2
Arabella held her composure until she had reached her private quarters on the villa’s second floor. Once inside, she leaned against the closed door and let her revulsion leak out of her on a shudder. At least she was getting better at the charade. There was a time when she might have had to bite back a scream.
Her skin crawled everywhere Vito had touched her. She could still feel his hard fingers on her body, on her breast. The sting of his offensive smack to her backside burned her dignity even more than it did her ass.
She hated being trotted out in front of his friends as his personal show pony, forced to dress and act as if she belonged to the coarse, criminal Breed male.
Though to be fair, in many ways Massioni did own her. Her life. Her freedom. Her unique Breedmate gift for premonition—the thing that first brought her to his attention three years ago. He owned all of that, no matter how much she despised him.
He might have owned her body, too, if she hadn’t found a way to convince him that the price of taking that part of her would cost him the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.
The threat had kept her out of his reach so far, but there were times when she knew he’d been tempted to test her. She only hoped she wouldn’t kill him if he tried. Because no matter how clever she wanted to think she was in dealing with him, Vito Massioni always had one final, terrible card to play.
And so long as he held that over her head, she had no choice but to serve him.
She could never escape him, not even in death.
He’d made certain of that.
Arabella knew better than to keep Massioni waiting. He’d sent her away to fetch her scrying bowl while he entertained his boot-licking cronies in the grand salon. They were gloating over a large payout from a shipment of Red Dragon to the States and the United Kingdom—a narcotic that destroyed the minds of their own kind, the Breed, creating blood-addicted monsters from just the smallest dose. They didn’t care that their sudden windfall came at the expense of both Breed and human lives. She had learned a long time ago that Vito Massioni’s greed knew no bounds.
Nor did his violence.
That her gift had helped him amass his growing fortune, and the power that came with it, made Arabella want to retch.
How often had she thought about giving him a false reading from her scrying bowl?
How many times had she dreaded that her visions would one day prove incorrect?
But she hadn’t deceived him, not once.
And, thankfully, her visions had never been wrong.
Either of those failings would come at the cost of innocent lives. Not her own, but the people she cared about most in the world. The only family she had left now.
It was those precious lives she held close in her heart as she walked over to the cabinet across the room and retrieved the hammere
d gold bowl she would need for her reading downstairs. In reality, her gift would awaken when she peered into any standing pool of liquid, but Massioni insisted she use the ridiculous carnival fortune-teller’s style bowl for dramatic effect whenever she performed a public reading.
Cradling the shallow bowl in her palms, she drew the empty vessel out of the cabinet. Her own face stared back at her in the reflection on the polished gold basin—but that wasn’t all.
Behind her stood the ominous shape of someone else.
A man.
Tall, immense.
An intruder dressed entirely in black tactical gear.
Bella sucked in a startled breath.
Fear streaked through her, but before her shriek could rip up the back of her throat, a broad palm came up to cover her mouth.
Oh, God.
The bowl slipped out of her grasp, thudding onto the thick rug. Muscular arms caged her from behind, immobilizing her. She staggered on her high-heeled sandals, drawn helplessly against the unmistakable heat of a very strong, very male body.
Not Massioni’s. This wasn’t any of the other men gathered in the salon with him either, although there was no question that the male trapping her in his unbreakable hold was Breed.
“Don’t scream, Bella.”
He spoke against her ear, his growled command voiced in a deep baritone that brushed over her jangled senses like a caress.
He knew her name. How? Who the hell was he? Where had he come from?
She struggled and fought to break free, but he didn’t let go. He was much too strong, and none of her squirming or resisting was getting her anywhere. All her grunts and cries for help were snuffed by the hand still sealed firmly across her lips.
Trapped, she could only stand there, her breath rushing out of her nose in panicked gusts while terror wrapped around her heart like a vise.
“Be calm. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Did he think she was a fool? She didn’t believe him for a second, not when she could feel the lethal power radiating off his big body. Whoever this man was, he was beyond dangerous, and she had no doubt that his only business in the villa was death.
She groaned, trying futilely to pull away from him in another burst of desperation. Her heart was speeding, banging against her rib cage as if on the verge of exploding. Yet despite her alarm, her instincts had begun to prickle with some kind of distant recognition.
She knew it was impossible, this strange feeling that this intruder was no stranger at all. Her blood was still racing and cold with terror, but beneath the fear was a growing sense of familiarity.
A name skated across her memory, one she had tried for years to bar from her thoughts and her heart.
No. It couldn’t be him.
The beautiful, golden-haired Breed male she had known all those years ago had been a scholar, not a soldier. He would have no business in a place like this, among thugs like the ones gathered downstairs.
Then again, there was a time when she’d have said the same thing about herself.
“I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth now,” he murmured.
As he spoke, his breath skimmed warmly against her cheek and along the side of her neck. She shivered from the sensation, astonished to realize how deeply he affected her, even after all this time.
Because, yes, she did know that low, velvet voice.
Just as she knew the scent that enveloped her as she stood immobilized in his arms. Heaven help her, but she had carried the scent of him, the sound of his voice, in a private corner of her heart since she was a teenage girl.
“Don’t be afraid, Bella. I didn’t come here to harm you. Nod your head if you understand.”
She nodded, and his grip on her relaxed. His palm fell away from her lips, leaving a coldness in its wake. Arabella slowly turned around in his slack hold.
“Oh, my God.” The words leaked out of her on a disbelieving sigh. “Ettore.”
Even though she thought she was prepared to see him again now, her first glimpse of Ettore Selvaggio standing mere inches away from her was a complete shock to her system.
She brought her fingers to her lips, her fear replaced by an overwhelming feeling of incredulity…and confusion.
Although she knew his voice and scent, she barely recognized the hard, disapproving face that stared back at her.
A black knit skullcap covered the loose golden waves that would have framed his lean, angled cheeks and firm, square jaw. While she knew that when he smiled there were dimples on either side of his lush mouth, right now his sculpted lips were held in a grim, unforgiving line. His hazel eyes were intense, his brows lowering as he pinned her in a measuring stare that felt as dangerous and unyielding as his hold on her a moment ago.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered on a sharp exhalation. His expression hardened even more. “It really is you, Arabella. I had to be sure. I didn’t want to believe it.”
She frowned. He sounded as surprised to see her as she was to be looking at him.
It had been ten years since they last saw each other. Ten years since he crushed her heart and walked away, never to return. Now, here he stood, dressed like a nightmare in black combat gear and staring at her in accusation, as if she were the one to blame.
His gaze seared her, making her feel cold and exposed in the curve-hugging red silk dress Massioni insisted she wear tonight. She knew what she must look like, what Ettore must think.
As much as everything inside her urged her to explain, she had bigger things to worry about than his opinion of her now.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? How did you get in here?” She couldn’t hide the shock in her voice, or her dread. If Massioni or any of his guards discovered Ettore inside the villa, they would kill him. And Bella didn’t doubt for a second that she would be made to suffer too. “Are you insane? Get out of here now, Ettore. You have no idea how dangerous it is for you to be here.”
He gave her a smile that chilled. “I’m not the one in danger. Your lover and his cronies are. I’ve rigged this place to blow sky-high as soon as I hit the detonator in my pocket.”
Oh, God. She swallowed, stricken to hear him admit what she’d already guessed. He was here to kill Vito Massioni.
And she could not let that happen.
Because if Massioni died, he had promised that she and her remaining family would die too.
A muffled rumble of laughter carried from the salon downstairs. Massioni and his guests would be growing restless soon. She’d already been gone too long. She couldn’t risk anyone coming to look for her.
No more than she could risk allowing Ettore the chance to carry out what he’d come here tonight to do.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, shaking her head as she took a step away from him. “I’m sorry… Ettore, I have no choice.”
Before he could stop her—before he probably even guessed what she was about to do—Bella screamed at the top of her lungs.
Chapter 3
There was barely a second of silence between the sound of Bella’s scream and the pandemonium that followed.
Male voices shouted from the salon below. Heavy boot falls began to thunder from all directions, while outside, perimeter floodlights blinked on, illuminating the villa and its surrounding grounds in a blinding daylight glow.
Holy shit.
He couldn’t believe she’d done it—betrayed his presence to the entire mansion.
Then again, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. He had certainly earned her scorn. Arabella Genova owed him nothing anymore, not even an explanation for how she’d ended up on the arm—and possibly in the bed—of a criminal scum like Massioni.
No choice, she’d said.
What the hell did she mean by that?
“Bella—” He reached for her, but she jerked out of his grasp, putting several paces between them.
“Get out, Ettore.” Her soft brown eyes were desperate beneath her furrowed brows. And outside the closed door
of her quarters, it sounded as though several of Massioni’s men were already rushing up the stairs to the second floor. She threw an anxious glance over her shoulder at the pounding of approaching feet in the hallway. Her voice was a tight, fearful whisper. “Please, go. Get out of here while you still have a chance!”
Jesus, she was terrified.
And it wasn’t directed at him.
What the hell had that bastard done to her?
Savage ground out a curse, feeling precious seconds tick by. He had a mission to carry out tonight—and he would—but not until Bella was safe and secured. Whether or not she intended to cooperate with that plan.
“Come with me.” He grabbed for her again, this time snagging her wrist.
“No. Let go of me!” she cried, projecting her voice louder than necessary. For who? Massioni and his goons? “I said stay away from me!”
“Listen to me, damn it.” Savage took hold of her shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze. “I’m trying to save you, Bella.”
She scoffed brittly. “You can’t save me. No one can.”
Christ, she really believed that. He knew her too well to think otherwise. He’d always been able to read her emotions in her eyes, in that lovely face that had haunted his dreams for longer than he cared to admit.
When she tried to break loose from his hold, he realized there was only one way he would be able to get her out of the villa without fighting her every step of the way.
She might hate him even more for this, but he had no choice either. He wasn’t about to leave her behind.
Laying his palm against her forehead, he tranced her into an immediate and deep sleep.
She no sooner sagged into his arms than the door to her quarters burst open and two armed guards filled the space.
Savage was crouched low, having just guided Bella’s limp body to rest on the rug. His weapon was already drawn and ready as the pair of Breed males crashed into the room. He dropped them both with sniper precision, squeezing off two headshots that nailed each guard between the eyes.
There would be more behind them. By the sound of the chaos unraveling all around the villa now, Savage expected he’d have to take on Massioni’s entire army of thugs as soon as he stepped out of the room.
