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It’s a day like every other day in the Garden of Eden.
Until it isn’t.
I don’t hear Cillian enter the Garden. The waterfall is too loud to hear the hiss of the hydraulics, and he’s too light on his feet to hear him approaching me at the riverbank. Only when I see his shadow on the water do I realize he’s behind me.
But when I turn around, I don’t see him.
I only see the barrel of a gun.
I stare down the black hole, frozen. Eventually, I drag my eyes upwards to meet Cillian’s blistering stare. Thunderous clouds roll behind his eyes.
“I think you and I need to have a little chat.”
“A-about what?”
His lips contort into a snarl. “Get up, Dahlia.”
My legs are shaking but I do as I’m told, my head swimming faster than Michael Phelps at the Olympics. He marches me down the cobbled path, into the living quarters, and demands I take a seat at the kitchen table. Even as I sink into a chair, my hands raised, his gun is still trained on me.
“Cillian, you’re scaring me,” I mutter.
His face only darkens. “You’re not scared of a gun, Dahlia. I’m sure you’ve been around enough of them in your life.”
I chew on the inside of my lip. There’s no point trying to assess the situation because I have no idea what he’s on about.
He draws in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Why does Luca Abruzzo want you dead?”
His question lingers between us while I try to make sense of it.
“I don’t know who that is.”
His fist slams against the table, and for the first time, I see how truly scary he is. The anger in his eyes, the bulging muscles peeking out from under his sleeves. He doesn’t need to point that gun at me. He could kill me with his bare hands if he wanted.
“I don’t,” I squeal, flinching away from him. “Cillian,please.I don’t have any idea who Luca Abruzzo is, and even less of an idea about why he would want me dead. A lot of people want me dead, clearly. It seems like I’ve made so many bad decisions and—”
His low growl rolls over the table and cuts me off. But when I look up, his features have softened a fraction.
He believes me.
“Dahlia,” he says, restraining himself. He sinks into a chair opposite me. “Who do you owe money to?”
My voice is small and pathetic. “A man named Lucky.”
A hiss escapes him. “Luca Abruzzo.Luckyis his nickname. And do you know who Lucky is?”
My blood runs cold. I shake my head.
“He’s the head of the Philly mafia.”
There’s a pregnant pause.
“Oh, God.”
“Yeah, I don’t think God will help you now.”
Panic rises in my chest.The fucking Philadelphia mafia?I didn’t know the city had a mafia, so the thought never crossed my mind. I knew Lucky was a bad man… but I didn’t think he wasthatpowerful.
I watch as Cillian drops the gun on the table. It clatters between us. Then he rubs the bridge of his nose, muttering something inaudible under his breath.
