Page 123 of The Savage

I cup a hand around his lighter and take my first deeper, perfect inhale as Rafa joins us a minute later.

We stand there, four Salvatores staring into the night, the weight of our empire stretching out before us, dense and wordless as the inheritance in our blood.

Then Rafa exhales smoke through his nose. ‘We need to talk about the new weasel problem.’

Vittore.

The name flashes in my mind like a blade catching sun.

‘Sure,’ I say, casting a glance back in the living room, which is starkly without Giada. ‘Tomorrow.’ I’m already itching with her absence.

Fuck, I’m addicted, aren’t I? Jonesing for a hit of perfection.

I catch Cesare’s arched brow when I turn. ‘Tomorrow? Since when do you delay dealing with shit that can get us all killed? You’re usually the first to wanna play wackamole with idiots’ skulls.’

I tug my jacket straighter. ‘Since now.’

Rafa snorts. ‘What? Busy chasing pussy? And what the fuck is the story with you and my sister-in-law? All these years you never even so much as said her name.’

Fuck this. I turn again, walk away, flipping him off without slowing my stride. ‘All you need to know is I was the first Salvatore to cross that forbidden line. The rest of you just followed the smoke I left behind. So yeah, you’re not all the trailblazing pioneers you think you are.’

Cesare chuckles low. ‘Jesus fucking Christ. Enjoy the night while it lasts, little brother.’

I don’t bother answering.

I’m already hunting.

* * *

I’m not enjoying the night. At all.

The house is too quiet.

Too still.

Too echoing.

Then I feel it… the thing that woke me from a dreamless sleep. The space beside me is cold and my arms are empty. A pulse of panic like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to me.

Giada’s fear threads the air as I leave the suite, moving fast, checking the hallway and the kitchen. The library.

Nothing.

Then I catch a whisper of movement down the seaside steps.

The faint slam of a door in the wind.

Fuck.

I break into a run.

* * *

Giada

The wind stings my eyes as I stumble down the stone steps leading towards the shore.

The sea’s roar calls to me – or maybe it’s the memory lodged behind my ribs.