Page 96 of Vows of Blood

Nothing. No words.

Nico holds up his phone with the alert on the front screen and frowns, thinking exactly the same as me. If it was set off by accident, why hasn’t security turned it off?

The door bangs open above me. Footsteps, fast and urgent, and then Corso appears at the top of the stairwell, steady as always, but slightly agitated, which, when you're dealing with Corso, is akin to a full-blown panic. He doesn’t even look at the body on the floor.

"Luca. We have a problem."

“I gathered that.” What I want to know is the extent of it.

"Mikhail. He's in the country. Our guys tracked him from the airport to a car rental place this afternoon." He pauses. "They lost him."

Shit. I grab my phone.

"He's not the shooter, and he didn’t pay for the hit," Nico says behind me, working through it. "So what's he here for?"

I know exactly what he wants.

“Revenge.” Dread slides down my spine. “Mikhail and Kate…”

Nico’s mouth parts in disbelief. The Russian assassin is Kate’s forbidden love, and in Mikhail’s twisted mind, I allowed her to die.

He's come to get even.

“Fuck,” he says, drawing the word out. “Do you think he’s here?” Nico draws his gun, but I shake my head.

Taking my life would be too easy. He's a cold-blooded killer, a hitman for hire, a ghost. And he's lost the only person who made him feel one iota of anything.

He wants me to suffer as he does, to lose the one person who means the most to me in this dark, depraved world we live in.

I'm already moving, taking the stairs two at a time, shoving through the crowd above, my heart slamming against my ribs.

“He's not after me. He's after Sienna.”

29

SIENNA

Tossing Vito onto the bed, he settles against the pillows like he hasn't just tracked something terrible across pristine white carpet. Did he step over a dead body on his way here? Who knows. He looks completely unbothered.

"Stay here," I whisper to him, as if he understands. All he cares about these days is the Michelin star menu Carmella prepares for him each day.

Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I tiptoe toward the door and peer out. The hallway is dark, which is unusual when there’s always staff milling around.

“Tony,” I hiss into the eerie quiet, but there’s no answer.

Shit.

I duck back into my room for a second and force myself to think. Tony’s out there somewhere. He’s never far from my side, and he’s armed. I just need to get to him.

Bloody pawprints shine in the dim light, leading away from my bedroom, toward the main staircase. I follow on bare feet, wincing at the sound of my steps on cold marble, loud to my ears, as my eyes slowly adjust to the unnerving darkness.

I feel the blood between my toes before I see it.

Tony is on the floor at the bottom of the steps, dragging himself toward me with one arm outstretched, leaving a dark smear in his wake. His other hand is pressed to his stomach over the growing stain on his shirt.

"No, Tony." I drop to my knees beside him, my nightgown soaking up his blood. "Oh God, Tony, what happened? What do I do?"

His eyes find mine, glassy with pain as he holds out a set of car keys for me to take. "Run." The word is barely a whisper. "Go."