“Anita,” Paolo garbled, his eyes obscured by swelling and blood. Fear gripped my throat so tight I saw black stars. I reached out to him, my fingers hovering in the air. I was waiting for the right time to strike, but watching this was tearing me apart.
“I love you.” Tears coasted down my cheeks, and this time, they were real.
Paolo’s expression went slack, and he disappeared in a flurry of limbs as the guards ramped up their efforts to bruise answers out of him. It was the first time I’d ever said that to him, and I hated how the words tasted sour, tinged with fear. But it was the truth, and I wouldn’t lose another person close to me without telling them what was in my chest. The sensation was familiar,but it still felt wrong. I wouldn’t lose Paolo. I whirled and glared at Matteo.
“What makes you so sure he’s done anything?” I snarled, losing grip of my careful mask. My hands were untied, but I’d never felt so out of control. Even the moment Romeo clamped his fingers in my hair and revealed he knew my secret identity. I knew he wouldn’t truly hurt me. A stillness settled over Matteo, and he turned his focus on me.
“What do you know about The Gardener, Anita?” He hollowed out his cheeks as he sucked on his cigar. The smack of his lips made white-hot anger coil up in my stomach. A viper with poison dripping from a fang. A kill strike, biding its time.
“I-I’m not sure, I-I enjoy gardening.” I’d always gotten a thrill out of existing in the shadows, but for once, I wanted to leap forth and sink my claws out in the open. I wanted him to know it was me who he should fear.
“You visited Merissa the week before Lanton’s death,” Matteo whispered, the whites of his eyes brightening to an unnatural sheen.
“Did you go at your cousin’s behest? Did you deliver something in your sweet little picnic basket?” A flat smile thinned his lips at my audible intake of breath. Had Lanton told him about my visit, or Merissa? If Matteo pressed her, she would fold in a second.
My spine tingled with warning. Matteo tired of my stalling, yanking on my wrist and flipping me so my back pressed against his front. His forearm locked around my throat, squashing my windpipe. He waved his cigar in front of my face, the end flaring orange.
“Please—” I gulped, letting him think I was terrified as my fingers niggled with the clasp on my bracelet. It tangled in Matteo’s iron grip, and I tried to edge it around so I could undo it.
“Your father experimented with plants, didn’t he?” Matteo’s breath was smoky and harsh against my cheek.
“Take. Your. Hands. Off. My. Wife,” Romeo’s fury-laden voice boomed from the doorway. His blue polo was soaked with blood and red coated his fingernails. His eyes were a glacier on fire, and I shivered under the path of them. Matteo’s chest rumbled behind me.
“My son, or should I say, my traitor?”
Romeo whipped his gun up and shot the two guards in quick succession without even a flinch.
“Say whatever you please, but I would recommend letting go of my wife in the meantime,” Romeo stated, vibrating with a barely controlled rage. His barrel lifted, lining up with Matteo’s head. His father chuffed behind me, his cigar dripping ash onto my lap. He inched it closer to my cheek, and the heat blistered in its proximity.
“You can still do as I ask. Paolo’s halfway there already. Finish the job.”
Paolo lurched up, balancing on a shaky hand as he wiped blood from his mouth.
“Hey, I’m only a little bruised,” Paolo protested.
Romeo widened his stance, one shoulder lifting and dropping as he refused to do as his father asked.
“You wouldn’t understand, but Paolo isn’t The Gardener. And to kill him would be to invite the wrath of my wife.” Romeo’s lips quirked as he looked me over, tension dropping minutely when he saw I was unhurt. Matteo’s arm loosened. He let the cigar drop through his fingers as he shifted his hands to my shoulders. He dug his thumbs in a mockery of a massage.
“Sei un cazzone.There’s no wrath in this sweet, stupid girl. Why don’t you stop all of this before you traumatize the poor thing?”
A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat, but I held it in. Romeo had no such compunction. Letting out a grave bark as I turned my naked wrist, flashing the silver needle at him.
“Like my mom, right? She was sweet and innocent too, wasn’t she? Swallowed up by the big, bad Donatos.”
Matteo hissed, and I winced as his grip strangled. But Romeo wasn’t done.
“I went to the address you sent me to. Cassio and I had an interesting conversation. A very different version of events than what you led me to believe.”
Paolo crawled backwards, making way for Romeo to move past him. The barrel of his gun wavered slightly as he trembled with barely constrained rage. Why was Romeo talking to Cassio Donato? The material of the sofa crackled under the heated press of the cigar, the acrid chemical smell coating my nostrils.
“Whatever he said was a lie. Your mom was perfect. Before she–” He bit off with a curse. “I don’t need to explain myself, but you? My only son, better start begging. I told you to kill this traitorous weasel, and you refused. The Gardener isn’t allowed to exist in my city anymore.”
Romeo gave me the slightest nod, seeing I was about to snap. I lifted the needle and slammed it into Matteo’s thigh. He gave a frenzied roar, knocking me forward onto the low glass table. The artful books and decorative fake fruit tumbled to the floor.
“What the fuck?” He clutched his thigh.
I stood and brushed myself off as Romeo strode around the couch and pinned his father. Paolo limped around to help, groaning as Matteo thrashed against their combined hold.
