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He gestures toward the front row, where Garrett stands wiping a finger beneath his bone-dry eye. With each step toward the podium, my fingers itch for the gun tucked inside my jacket. They slide closer every second, eager to feel the cold metal in my grip. Ready to place a bullet between his eyes.

Vin’s hand grips my shoulder, his eyes staring straight ahead. “Not here,” he says in a low voice. I let out a breath and bring my hand to my thigh, my index finger tapping steadily. He’s right. “By the way, you never did tell me why you were late?” He peers over at me, arching a single brow.

I adjust my glasses. “I had an errand to run.”

“I see.” He rubs his palm across his jaw, leaning closer. “And is that errand why you have a drop of blood below your ear?”

Shit. “Highly likely,” I answer, staring Garrett down.

He inhales, his brows furrowing as he practically presses his nose to my neck. “Why the fuck do you smell like gasoline?”

I move farther from him. “New cologne.”

He sighs, straightening. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, brother.”

“I always do.” I briefly glance at him. “Maybe you should try not doubting me for once.”

He shifts his attention to me. “It was never about doubting you. It was about what was best for the—”

“Thank you all for joining me today to remember my beloved wife, Charlotte,” Garrett voices, his fingers clutching the side of the podium as if he needs the support. “It means so much to see how many people cared about her, and I know this would bring her comfort and happiness to witness.” He smiles, his charm capturing half of the audience. His phone rings in his pocket, and he quickly silences it before continuing. “She was the love of my life, the light to my darkest days, and she will forever be with me, right here.” He points to the center of his chest, tapping the space where his cold beating heart resides.

“Pezzo di merda,” I breathe with force, my fingers curling around the edge of my seat, digging into the wood.

“What a fucking crock of shit,” Leo murmurs beside me, gaining the attention of a few people in front of us who turn their heads our way before quickly looking away when they realize who we are. Scarlett places her hand on top of his, the two of them holding a silent conversation.

“That prick will get what’s coming to him,” Eli adds, sliding a protective arm around Madeleine’s shoulders.

Mauro leans across Alina to gain my attention. Are you okay?

I shake my head. Not in the slightest.

Garrett’s phone rings again, his face morphing into clear annoyance as he takes it out of his pocket and shuts it off. “Sorry for that. Unfortunately, a governor is always working, no matter what may be going on in their personal life.” A few women display sympathetic frowns. If only they knew what kind of man he actually is. “Now, I’d like to invite you all to my house for hors d’oeuvres and drinks so we can truly celebrate Charlotte’s life.”

I look down, fighting back the grin that wants to take over my face.

“What the fuck did you do?” Vin whispers with force, staring straight ahead.

I look at him, shaking my head. “I wish you had my back with this. He deserves everything coming his way, and you know it.”

He faces me, and I watch hurt flash across his eyes. “I always have, even if you don’t think I do.”

Everyone rises from their seats, and I quickly stand, needing to get the fuck out of here.

I head straight for my car, my body shaking with rage, my mind a thousand miles away, when a voice calls out to me and stops me dead in my tracks.

“Alessandro Alarie,” Garrett drawls, venom lacing his tone. “It was so nice of you and your family to join us today. I know Charlotte would have appreciated it.”

I turn on my heels, watching his serpent-like smile grow across his face.

Three guards surround him, each one heavily armed and making a point of holding their weapons before their bodies.

But I find myself not giving one flying fuck.

Striding toward him, I stop only a few feet away. “I know it was you,” I say, matter-of-factly.

He feigns shock, placing his hand against his chest. “Are you insinuating I had something to do with my wife’s death?”

“That’s exactly what I’m insinuating.”