Theirs to Protect - Julia Sykes Page 0,29

throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His fear was a living thing, a cowering dog beneath my merciless hands. Nausea turned my stomach, but I inhaled a deep breath of fetid air and shoved it down.

“You threatened my family,” I said, my tone roughening slightly as rage licked my veins like a flame. I welcomed the burn, allowing it to sear away the human instinct that told me to release the terrified man. “Tell me why.”

Keeping my grip on his hair, I released his face and allowed him to talk. His jaw worked for a few seconds, as though he was fighting to remember how to form words. A dark stain slowly spread over his lap, and the scent of piss layered over the apartment’s stench.

“I…” He licked his dry lips. “I wanted to impress Ciro. He’s been talking about killing you fa—” His teeth snapped shut, and a bead of blood bloomed on his mouth.

“Go ahead,” I urged. “Say it.”

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t care if you’re gay. I don’t!” he insisted, words pouring out of his bloody lips. “I just wanted to help Ciro. He’s making a name for himself. I just wanted to get an in with him.”

I remained firmly in his personal space, but I didn’t torment him further. Merely the threat of my nearness was enough to make him talk.

“So targeting us was your idea? You decided to do it to impress Ciro?”

“No!” he gasped, his eyes cutting left and right, as though searching for an exit from this interrogation. “I mean, yes. I mean, it was his idea! I was just helping.”

I leaned in closer, and he shuddered. “Why? Why does Ciro care about us?”

“C-Ciro’s old-school,” he stammered. “He thinks we’re going soft. He left his brother, Elio, behind in Calabria because of it. He got out of prison, and everything was different. Elio’s son came out, and Elio accepted it. He told all his people that it’s okay to be with another man. All that woke bullshit.” He couldn’t quite hold back a sneer. “Ciro almost killed his brother, and he was forced out. Now, he’s come here to fix shit. No more of this soft, feelings crap. Feelings are bad for business. Weakness is bad for business. No one respects—” His mouth snapped shut again, his glassy eyes regaining some of their clarity. The alcohol and drugs swirling through his system had made him lose focus and go off on a familiar rant. For a few, dangerous seconds, he’d forgotten where he was and who he was talking to.

“Okay, so Ciro is a bigot,” I said, my tone still disturbingly mild. “It still doesn’t make sense that he would target us. My father has made it clear that I’m dead to him. Ciro has nothing to gain by killing me. It won’t be a power play, because my father won’t care if I die.”

“Exactly.” Rafael rushed to agree. “You’re the perfect targets for Ciro to make his point. You hold no value, but we know who you are. We know why your father exiled you and cut you out like cancer. Killing you won’t provoke a war. Ciro doesn’t want a war with Dominic Russo. He wants his people in Boston to understand what will happen to them if they don’t toughen up.”

Behind me, Marco’s phone chimed. “Joseph,” he said, his tone heavy with urgency. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

Hearing him say my name made reality hit me like a bucket of icy water. My identity slammed back into place, forcing its way into the hollow nothingness I’d carved out at my core in order to question Rafael.

My hand dropped from his hair, and I stepped back from him on shaky legs.

Marco addressed him. “Tell Ciro we were here. Tell him to leave us alone, or things will get bloody.” He ended his message with a sucker punch. Rafael’s head snapped back, and blood sprayed from his split lips. He went limp in the chair, held in place by the makeshift rope I’d procured.

Marco turned to me, keeping his gun at his side, just in case. “We have to go.”

He showed me his phone. Ashlyn’s text made my blood freeze in my veins.

Ugh. This gross guy keeps staring at Jayme and me. He just sent Champagne to our table and won’t take a hint. Come to the bar and scare him away please?

I rushed out of the apartment, every cell in my body screaming for me to