Page 58 of The Kingpin’s Bride

“I know.”

“Do you have snacks?”

A breath left me that was almost a laugh. “Not on me. But I can get you some. And your sister, of course. Both. Tonight.”

She looked at the door, then back at me. “Is Dad coming too?”

“No.” I held her eyes. “You don’t have to see him again.”

Camilla nodded, once, like we had signed a contract. Then she bent, picked up her drawing, and held it out with both hands.

“This is the sun,” she said. “It’s for Rena. I made it extra purple. I wanted it to look different, so she can find me. Easy peasy.”

I took the page like it was worth more than the seat. “She’ll love it.”

I was reaching for her when the front door exploded inward. Dario came through it already shooting.

The first round punched plaster over my shoulder. The second hit the wall where my head had been a second before. Camilla screamed. I turned my body into the line of fire and shoved her behind me, one arm braced back so she stayed against my coat.

“Stay behind me. Do not run.”

Dario did not try to win the room. He tried to win the child. He lunged along the wall, grabbed for her, and ripped her sideways out from behind me before I could turn all the way around. She made a sound I would hear later in every quiet room.

The purple crayon hit the floor. The sun drawing tore in my hand.

“Matteo!” she screamed. My name. After four minutes of knowing it.

Dario dragged her against his chest and backed toward the rear door, gun held where I could not take the shot.

“You don’t get to take my leverage,” he panted. “Follow me and she disappears for good.”

I fired at the man coming in behind him. I did not fire at Dario. He was already gone. Kitchen. Alley. A sedan lurching from the curb with Camilla a small red shape in the passenger side. I hit the car running.

“Aim for the tires,” I said into the comm. “Not the cabin.”

The first shot missed wide. The second kissed the rear bumper and did nothing useful. Dario ran lights like a man who had rehearsed this exact escape. We stayed on him through two turns and lost him on the third when a delivery truck slid between us and the access road.

By the time we cleared it, the sedan was gone.

No taillights. No dust. Just wet street and the torn purple sun still in my fist.

I stood in the road with the engine idling behind me and understood, with perfect, useless clarity, that I had been close enough to pick her up. Close enough to promise her snacks. Close enough that she had said my name.

And Dario Rizzo had taken her anyway.

I got back in the car.

“Find the sedan,” I said. My voice did not sound like mine. “Every camera. Every fucking street. Every man who has ever taken money from him. I want a location for the kid before sunrise.”

Nobody argued. I looked down at the ruined drawing. Extra purple . Torn through the middle.

Morena was waiting behind a locked door for the version of tonight where I came home with her sister in my arms. I was going home with a piece of ripped paper and the knowledge that I had already failed her. I put the drawing in my jacket next to the photograph. Then I told the driver to move it.

Chapter Fifteen

Morena

Iwoke to soft white fabric twisted around my hips. Morning light cut thin gray bars across the sheets. The diary sat open on the nightstand, pages filled with everything I had finally given him. Proof that the secret was no longer mine alone to carry.