"What is it?" Vito demands.
"Message from Kieran Costello." Marco holds up his phone. "He's got her."
The world goes very still and very quiet. That cold, deadly calm I've felt in the field before settles over me like a familiar coat. No more panic, no more desperate fear. Just crystalline focus and the kind of rage that could level buildings.
"What does he want?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears, flat and emotionless.
"To invite us to his wedding."
I look at Rina, then at Vito. "I'm going."
"Like hell you are," Vito starts, but Rina cuts him off with a hand on his arm.
"Let him go." She looks at me with something that might be pride. "Go get my sister, Dante."
The permission hits me like a benediction. I turn toward the door, already planning, already calculating odds and angles and ways to make Kieran Costello bleed.
Before I can take a step, Elena and Gianna appear in the doorway behind Marco, both of them wearing expressions that spell trouble.
"We're helping," Elena announces, crossing her arms.
"Like hell you are," Vito says immediately.
Gianna nods firmly. "Sofia's family. We're not sitting this one out."
"Absolutely not. You'll stay here where it's safe?—"
Rina gives her husband a look that could melt steel. Vito catches it, stops mid-sentence, and runs both hands through his hair.
"I've clearly just lost complete control of my family," he mutters.
"You never had control of us, honey," Elena says sweetly. "You just thought you did." She turns to me, and I catch a glimpse of the woman who runs with some of the most dangerous crews in the city. "It's been a long time since I've done any real shooting, Dante. Let's go get some guns."
Despite everything—Sofia captured, the Costellos holding her, the clusterfuck this has all become—I feel something like hope unfurl in my chest. Maybe it's the way Rina's standing shoulder to shoulder with me against Vito's protests. Maybe it's Elena's predatory smile or Gianna's determined nod.
Or maybe it's just knowing that Sofia's got this whole family ready to go to war for her, whether she realizes it or not.
"And Dante?" Rina calls after me.
I pause in the doorway.
"Bring her home."
CHAPTER 30
Sofia
The car ride feels endless.Hours of highways and back roads, my hands zip-tied behind my back, a burlap sack over my head that smells like motor oil. Every bump sends pain shooting through my wrists where the plastic cuts into my skin.
When we finally stop, rough hands drag me from the car. I stumble on unsteady legs, my feet screaming in protest after the long walk through the forest this morning. The burlap is yanked off my head, taking several strands of hair with it.
"Careful, jackass," I snap before I can stop myself.
The man who removed the sack—pale, stocky, with the kind of face that's seen too many fights—actually looks apologetic. "Sorry about that, miss. Kieran's orders."
We're standing in front of what looks like an old church, all gray stone and Gothic arches. Not what I expected from the Irish mob. Through the heavy wooden doors, I catch glimpses of stained glass windows and carved wooden pews.
"Welcome to our humble home," a voice says behind me.
