Chapter Three

Domani

"You should get dressed," I say, dragging myself away from Finley before I do something I know I'll live long enough to regret. I'm burning for her, the fires growing hotter every minute I spend touching any part of her perfect body. It's exquisite torture.

Forcing her to hand over what I want isn't an option. Her willing submission is part of what I crave. I want her to yield. I want her to cede her soul, handing it over to me without reservation. Only then will I take what I want.

But I won't play fair along the way. If her uncle taught her survival, this is what my father taught me. He was an unscrupulous bastard, rotten to the core. He lied, cheated, and manipulated his way into beds all across this city. And when that didn't work, he simply took what he wanted. I'll never do that. But seducing this girl? That I will do. With a fucking smile on my face.

"I won't be your obedient little toy, Domani," she says, watching me as if she's trying to figure me out. As if she knows exactly what I'm thinking. "You can send me back to my uncle or kill me. I don't care. But I won't be your little plaything."

"Who says I want a toy, Finley?" I ask, scooping her bag from the floor. "I already told you what I want. My ring. Your finger." I place the bag on the bed beside her. "Get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes."

"Leaving?" She gapes up at me. "Where are we going?"

"For now? My cabin," I say. "After that? We'll see."

The allure of the road is a powerful temptation for one who hasn't seen anything but her own prison for so long. She bounds off the bed, almost desperately eager. It's as fucking sad as it is cute. She's been locked up for nearly two years, trapped and listening to every vile thing they've done inside that house.

When I get my hands on Cillian, I may kill him for that alone.

Her hands hover over her bag. She turns her head, seeking me out over her shoulder. "This is from my closet."

"It is."

"You packed a bag for me?"

"Figured you'd need some things." I shrug like it's not a big deal. Evidently, it is to her, though. She looks like she wants to cry.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"Get dressed." I nod toward the door across the room. "The bathroom is right there."

She scoops the bag up and flees toward the bathroom, her gorgeous ass swaying with every step. I watch the entire time, unable to take my eyes off of her. One day soon, I'm going to know exactly what that ass feels like wrapped around my cock.

One day very soon.

She slips inside the bathroom, closing the door.

I stride toward the closet to grab a few things I need. Guns, ammo, and a few more knives. You know, basic shit. I load it all into a duffle bag, open the safe, and pull out two stacks of cash. I add most to the bag and then stuff several thousand dollars in my wallet. I also roll a few more bills and put them in my sock. If we have to run, we'll have to ditch the car, my cards, everything. I need enough cash to make sure we can make it to my safehouse in Washington.

Once that's done, I toss clothes on top and zip the bag. When I turn around, Finley's standing outside the closet, watching me. She changed into a green sweater and skinny jeans that mold to her legs, making them seem miles long. I chose well because she looks fucking perfect.

"That's a lot of cash," she says quietly.

"Just a precaution."

"And the guns?"

"Also a precaution." I hook the bag over my shoulder, muttering a curse when the guns jostle together, making her scowl. "Are you ready?"

"You expect my uncle to come after me, don't you?"

"We'll talk about it on the way." I hold out my hand for her bag.

She reluctantly hands over the bag and then follows me out of the room. We don't speak as we make our way through the condo and out to the garage. She stops in her tracks when she sees the small incinerator in the corner.

"I don't burn bodies in it, mio sole," I murmur.

"But you burn something in it."

"Yes."

She shivers, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Come on." I hit the button on the keyfob, unlocking the doors to the Range Rover. Her brows rise, but she doesn't say anything as I help her into the passenger seat. Once she's settled, I put our bags in the back seat and then grab some shit from the shelves—blankets, flashlights, an emergency kit with food, water, and medical supplies.

I've been in the mafia for a long fucking time. If you're going to run, you better be prepared. There is no stopping once you start. I know the drill. If it comes to that…shit, I hope it doesn't come to that. But if it does, we'll be ready.

I load everything into the SUV, slam the door, and then climb in beside Finley.

She spends the first part of the drive gaping at the city around us. Rockford isn't nearly as large or as bustling as Chicago, but it has its own charm. Historic Victorian homes and buildings mingle with those built more recently, all nestled between scenic landscapes and forest preserves. For one who hasn't seen anything but a rundown mansion and her own family for almost two years, it's probably close to magical, especially in the early morning light.

We're a few miles out of town, the sun cresting the horizon, before she speaks.

"What do you burn in the incinerator?"

"My clothes."

"Why?"

"You know why, Finley," I say gently, not willing to lie to her about who I am and what I do. I won't pretend I'm something I'm not. She deserves honesty, at the very minimum.

She exhales a shuddering breath. "You kill people too."

I wish I could tell her no, but I can't. I lost count of the people I killed a long time ago. Their faces stopped haunting me over a decade ago. I am who I am. I've done what I've done. I can't take it back. I wouldn't even if I could. The sins I committed saved the lives of the people who matter. If that damns me to hell, I'll stand with my head held high on Judgment Day and accept my fate.

"I have," I say. "Most of them knew what awaited them when they made the choices they made."

"That doesn't justify murder, Domani."

"I'm not trying to justify it, mio sole. I merely explain. If you're looking for a reason to view me as anything other than a monster, I don't have one for you. I've committed damn near every crime there is to commit. I know what I am. I know what I do. I don't justify it, Finley. But if you're looking for a reason to condemn me, let it be the truth. The men I killed knew what was coming for them. Some deserved it far more than others, but none were innocent. None were victims. In this life, it's kill or be killed. I chose not to be killed or to allow the same fate to befall the people who matter."

"The people who matter? You mean the Valentino family."

"Sometimes, yes. But not always. Sometimes, the people I protected had nothing to do with the Valentino family or the mafia." I cut my eyes in her direction. "Sometimes, they were like you, just trying to survive men like your uncle. He isn't the only monster I've met. He's not even the worst."

She processes this for a long moment and then nods. She doesn't have to ask what I mean. She knows. Finley is smart, far too smart for her own good, I think. "Did you take those girls too?"

"No. I took care of their problems and walked away. They never even knew I existed."

"But you took me," she whispers.

"I told you; you belong to me."

She rolls her head to the side to look at me. "Did you ever think maybe you're just crazy, Domani?"

I chuckle at her question. "The thought crossed my mind a time or two, mio sole. But no, this isn't madness. It's something else. Something bigger." I glance at her again to see her eyes locked on my face as if she's really trying to understand me. "I know you feel it, too."

She swallows, shifting her gaze away from me. But not before I see the acknowledgment in her eyes. She does feel it. The electric charge between us. The irrevocable certainty that this is where she's supposed to be. Even before I saw the rope burn on her wrist, I knew she was leaving that house with me. If that makes me a fucking monster, I'll own it.

We fall silent again. It's not uncomfortable or awkward. It's just…silent. Still. Peaceful, even. I feel her gaze on me periodically as the SUV flies down the road, quickly putting distance between us and the mess I'm leaving behind. But mostly, she looks out the window, avidly curious as only one starved for sight is.

"You told me that we'd talk about my uncle in the car," she finally says. "You expect him to come after me, don't you?"

"Don't you?" I ask instead of answering.

Her slumped shoulders are answer enough. She knows he'll come after her. "I don't think he cares about me. I could die tomorrow, and he wouldn't shed a tear. But he hates losing. You took me from his home. He'll be angry about that." She pauses. "And I'm valuable to him."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to keep control of my trust fund. He's the executor. He has final say over the trust fund until I'm twenty-five unless I get married or file to have him removed." She grimaces. "I think he plans to cling to control for as long as possible."

"Why? He has his own money."

"He has my dad's money," she snorts. "Everything he owns, he got from my dad. And it's a drop in the bucket compared to what's in that trust fund, Domani."

"Cristo. What happens when you turn twenty-five? What's his plan?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "Kill me? Marry me off to one of his cronies? I don't know, but I'm sure there is a plan. There always is with him."

There's no question then. He will be coming after her with everything he's got. And he'll go to war to get her back.

Cazzo. I fucking knew my night was going to end in a bunch of bullshit as soon as Mattia popped in to see me. I didn't kill anyone, and I'm not bleeding either, but somehow, I'm more fucked than ever before.

But it changes nothing. Actually, it changes everything. Because it's more important than ever that Cillian not get his hands on her. Rafe and Mattia may disagree when the stakes are this high. She's Irish, not Italian. We stay out of their shit, and they stay out of ours. That's how it's supposed to work. But I won't condemn an innocent woman to a life under Cillian's rule. I won't send one to her death. Especially not this woman.

He'll kill her or marry her off to get her money. And considering the fact that he ties her to the goddamn bed, I'm not willing to gamble on him marrying her off. Even if she didn't belong to me, it's not a risk I'd take.

I have to kill her uncle. And hope like hell that her cousin is willing to negotiate once the motherfucker is dead. If not…we're going to war. And it's going to end with my head on a pike.

Rafe will put it there himself.