Page 155 of The Savage

She rolls her eyes, slow and deliberate, looking stunning as hell in the all-black bullet-proof gear her sister Sofiya conjured up from fuck knows where. ‘I stay at your side at all times unless you tell me otherwise.’

‘And?’

‘And if shit goes sideways, I don’t run or freeze. I stick with you, no matter what.’

I open my mouth, either to give her an atta girl or to tease her for being so comfortable swearing again.

She leans in and kisses me, quick and firm. A shut-up kiss. Effective.

Dante snorts behind us. ‘Jesus Christ. Get a room or get shot. I’m flexible.’

Rafa doesn’t look at us. His eyes are already on the gates. ‘Focus.’

We focus.

The iron gates grind open with a sound that sets my teeth on edge. Six armed men step out. Calm. Professional. Not local thugs. These are soldiers who expect violence and plan to survive it.

They watch us. We watch them.

One steps forward.

Tall and blond with a scar down one cheek and a misshapen ear that looks like someone started to hack it off then abandoned the task halfway through. His icy eyes scan us like laser beams before they lift upwards.

He knows about the illegal as fuck predator drone Rafa has hovering above our heads. I have no idea what my brother’s ultimate plan with the drone is but I guess we’ll find out if, as my beautiful love put it so eloquently, ‘shit goes sideways’.

Her hand trembles in mine now but she breathes calmly. In and out.

When the guard’s gaze descends, his expression doesn’t give away his feelings on the aerial threat one way or the other.

‘Mr Palinski is expecting you,’ he says in clean English with a thick Russian accent. ‘Come this way. Without your security men, please.’

Cesare smiles without humour. ‘That’s adorable.’

‘We will ensure your safety,’ the man replies.

‘Of course you will,’ Dante mutters. ‘That’s always how these stories start.’

We leave most of the muscle outside but we bring Cesare’s personal bodyguard, Umberto ‘Fist’ Laslo, one of Dante’s, and two of mine. Rafa put his foot down way back when Orazio offered a personal guard. To this day, I still don’t know why the old man backed down.

We move inside the compound with no visible weapons beyond what we’re always carrying.

Giada’s fingers stay locked in mine.

Inside, the castle smells like old stone and money. Heat hums through the floors. Men line the halls. Too many. This place has been a fortress for decades.

Palinski waits in a high-ceilinged room with windows cut narrow into the walls. White hair slicked back. Skin pale and thin. Eyes light enough to look colourless. Vicious doesn’t begin to cover it. This is a man who has outlived enemies by watching them die.

He studies us without rising. ‘Salvatore,’ he says. ‘You travel loudly.’

‘We like to be heard,’ Cesare replies.

Palinski’s gaze drifts to Giada. Lingers a beat too long.

I shift half a step, blocking her without breaking stride.

Palinski smiles faintly. ‘Ah. The girl.’

Rafa doesn’t bother with pleasantries. ‘Your nephew has been making a nuisance of himself in Italy.’