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He captures my hand, not noticing or caring about the cut. “Lucrezia. My love. Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll make it happen. The gang out there”—he tips his head out the door—“is yours to command. Or I’ll kill them all.” He says it with such ease I flinch. He cups my cheek, blood still streaming down the hollow of his throat. It’s a shallow cut, but it’s bleeding so much. If Victor’s aware of it, he doesn’t care.
He strokes his thumb over my cheekbone. “I’d kill everyone in the world if you wanted.” He sounds so happy, it’s disturbing. “Say the word. Cut my throat right now, and I’d be happy because it’s you, Lula. It will always be you.”
My breath is rattling in and out of me. My throat was lined with poisoned knives, but they’re gone now. My chest still aches, like nothing will soothe it, but. . .
I push up to tiptoe, pulling his head down so I can reach his lips. He grips the lapels of the coat I’m wearing, drawing me up so his mouth can dominate mine.
We kiss until I’m surging against him; the ache in me spreads through my core to my limbs.
He takes my shoulders and pushes us slightly apart, keeping a bare millimeter between us. “Death or belonging to me. Those are your options.”
“Your death or mine?” I raise my head to murmur against his lips.
“I don’t want to live in this world alone. Without you, Lula, I might as well be dead.”
I draw back. The nick at his throat really is making a mess. I curse and find a paper towel to clean it up. He holds still and lets me, watching me with a tenderness that makes me ache.
Fates preserve us. There might be a small part of me that loves him. And that is enough.
But first things first.
I straighten and toss the bloody paper towel into the trash. Then I pick up the knife, testing its weight in my palm. “Where’s Stephanos?”
“Hiding like the rat he is. Do you want me to take you to him?”
“Yes.”
He smiles and takes my hand. The one without the knife. “Then let’s go.”
CHAPTER 16
lula
The drive leaving Cavalli’s is very different from the one a mere hour before.
This time, I relax in the backseat with Victor, holding his hand. No blindfold. I returned his knife, and he gave me back my Sig Sauer. Its weight feels weird but familiar.
Two of the guys ride in the front. Joe and Spiro. Joe is driving again, keeping to back roads.
We’re rolling down an alleyway when I recognize the silver siding of the building up ahead.
“Stop here a moment,” I say. “Please.”
Joe looks into the rearview mirror, and Victor nods. The car slows to a stop.
The back door of Three Diner opens before I step out of the car. Two of the owners greet me. The tall young woman with dark glasses and the tiny white-haired one with weathered hands. The shadow of a third woman, round and matronly, haunts the door.
“You’ve returned,” the young woman says, with a hint of a smile. Her head angles like she’s looking into the sky or hearing music playing far away. “And you’re not alone.”
“Yes.” I don’t know what I want to say to them, so I wait through an awkward pause.
“You’re ready, daughter of Vera,” the white-haired lady pronounces.
My throat clogs up, but I nod.
“Then go, and fate will bless you.”
I slide into the back seat, and Joe takes his foot off the brake a second later. Victor tips his head to the two women and gives them a cocky wave.
