Page 156 of The Savage

He remains silent for a full minute, clearly not being a man who likes to rush into speech. ‘Liv,’ Palinski says. ‘He is young. What you call a… hothead.’

‘He is sloppy,’ Cesare counters. ‘And a pussy, if you pardon my French. He’s hiding in the shadows while stirring shit with Vittore Mancinelli.’

Palinski lifts one shoulder, even as his gaze slides once more to Giada. I promise myself, one more look and I’ll pluck at least one eye out.

‘Italy is far from here,’ he eventually says.

‘So is Vegas,’ Dante says. ‘Didn’t stop your son from trying to kill Cesare with a racing car. While he was high on coke. Remember that?’

A flicker. Just a flicker.

Palinski’s eyes return to Cesare. ‘True. My son lives because you allowed it.’

‘Correct,’ Cesare says. ‘And now you get to decide if that courtesy and mercy goes both ways. Because both of your nephew’s funded attacks were within two miles of my son.’

Rafa steps forward. ‘Not to mention Ivanov orchestrated the hit that killed our mother. Carried out by a woman we believe is now in this city. Possibly within these walls.’

Palinski’s face doesn’t change as he switches his gaze from Cesare to Rafa. ‘And?’ he asks.

Rafa’s jaw tightens. I feel the room lean towards violence.

Cesare shrugs, cool as shit. ‘It’s up to you. You can decide to make her disappear in a very Russian way. Ice suit in the Baltic. Bullet with no name.’

Palinski’s lips thin.

‘Or,’ Cesare continues, ‘you withdraw your hospitality and we walk out of here. And next time we might not come through your front door. We might just drop in through your roof. Or your tunnels. Or your grandchildren’s schools.’

Silence stretches.

Palinski exhales slowly. ‘You make very serious threats.’

‘We make promises,’ Dante says.

Palinski studies us again. Calculates. He’s deciding how expensive this is going to be.

‘What do you want?’ he asks finally.

‘Your nephew on a very short leash,’ Rafa says. ‘Your borders closed to Vittore. And the woman.’

Palinski eases back in his chair. After another minute, he taps two fingers on the arm of his chair. Once. Twice. Then he nods.

He lifts his hand. A subtle gesture.

The doors at the far end of the room open almost immediately. Two men drag someone forward across the vast hall.

Twenty feet away she stumbles and the soldiers harshly right her. But it’s not until she’s another ten feet away that I recognise her.

She’s not wearing her habit. Her hair hangs loose and filthy. One eye is swollen shut. Blood is crusted at her mouth and her wrists are bound.

Madre Superiora.

The room detonates.

I don’t move, but everything inside me does. Heat. Rage. Memory. My mother’s face flashes behind my eyes. The way her grave looked so fucking cold for the warm mother who loved us all.

Cesare swears softly as Dante goes still. Dangerously still.

Rafa’s breath leaves him in a rough pull. Sofiya moves a half inch closer, infusing him with love and support in her own unique way.