Page 28 of Vicious Kingdom

In the rush of adrenaline, I forgot the crippling injury.

I threw another punch, but it wasn’t nearly as strong a blow as it should have been. His head snapped back, eyes wide with shock before narrowing with rage.

The brute’s brass-laced fist came hurtling toward my face, but in a blur of movement, I intercepted it.

Pain lanced up my arm, a sharp reminder of my limitations. The thug sensed weakness and doubled his attack, his meaty fist aimed to kill. I pivoted, using his momentum against him, and he stumbled past me into the brick wall.

A flash of steel caught my eye—a switchblade. Servizzio’s lieutenant, a thin man with dead eyes, lunged for Isabella.

“Donna! Behind you!” I shouted.

Isabella moved with lethal grace, her stiletto heel driving into the man’s instep before her elbow connected with his throat. The knife clattered to the pavement.

Encouraged by their queen’s bravery, the Moretti men rallied. Blood and violence sang around us, a lullaby of death. The guards might have been outnumbered, but they moved with a desperation that proclaimed their victory.

The night air filled with grunts and curses as the Moretti soldiers moved with brutal efficiency. These weren’t just bodyguards—they were trained killers, men who’d been baptized in destruction. I’d seen their handiwork before, though they didn’t know that.

I caught a glimpse of the black widow’s face—calm, controlled, almost bored—as she pulled a dagger from her thigh and buried it in one of Servizzio’s men.

That killing blow ended the fray.

The scum scattered.

A combined howl of victory rose into the night sky as the Moretti men hurried to their queen.

“It’s not safe for you here,” I panted, shaking the dirt from my suit.

“Your hand.” Isabella glided toward me.

I snatched it back. “It’s fine.”

Her brow flicked, and amusement twitched on her lips. “You wanted to speak with me?”

My brain scrambled for logic. How did I suggest that she join forces with my brother without her discovering my connection to the underworld?

“I just wanted to offer my condolences.” I felt blood drop from the bandage around my hand.

Her eyes hardened. “Thank you.”

“Should you ever want to sell your husband’s dealerships, come to me first,” I insisted. “I’ll give you a fair price.”

Isabella scoffed. “I find that I like the part of car salesperson, Mr. Baldwin.”

Translation: She liked being the don of her organization.

Of course, I wasn’t supposed to know that.

“But perhaps we could discuss a possible investment in my expansion plans over dinner?” Isabella suggested.

“Perhaps.”

Before I could set a date or time, the side door to the club burst open down at the other end of the alley. Two women stumbled out, and the blonde promptly heaved her dinner into the street.

Isabella huffed in disgust. “Party girl partied too hard.”

A queen like her had no time to let loose. To a powerful businesswoman like her, the behavior of socialites was as disgusting as it was useless.

I couldn’t say I blamed her.