Chapter Three

Coda

The warehouse is so fucking cold I see my breath fogging the air as I stand over my target. The acrid scent of fear mingles with the metallic tang of blood, creating a perfume that's become all too familiar to me.

Emilio Esposito is bound and gagged at my feet, his eyes wild with the kind of terror that says he knows exactly what's coming.

He should. He knows precisely what he did to land here.

I study him, but I feel no pity or hesitation. No. I'm looking for the right spot.

"Please." His muffled pleas slip from behind the duct tape covering his mouth, but mercy isn't a currency I trade in.

"Shut the fuck up," Domani Brambilla says from beside me. He's had enough of the stronzo's begging. "If you wanted to live, you never should have put your wife in the hospital."

My fingers tighten around the grip of my gun at the reminder of Emilio's crimes. Some sins are unforgivable. Hurting a woman is one of them. But even so, I don't want Esposito to suffer. I learned long ago that there's no art in cruelty when the final payment is death. Torturing a man on his way out of the world teaches no lesson. It simply rests on your conscience.

His death is simply payment for his crime and a message for those who'd follow in his footsteps: break Rafe's rules and pay with your life. With this rule, there is no mercy, and there are no second chances. Everyone knows it. Esposito decided to try his luck anyway. He hurt his wife. Now, he dies.

The gunshot echoes through the warehouse, a single resounding crack that silences his pleas forever. His body slumps to the side. The finality in his wide-open eyes is something I've seen more times than I care to count.

It's done. Efficient. Cold. Precise. Just another ghost to haunt the periphery of my conscience, should I ever let it.

I won't.

It's his wife's face that'll haunt my mind.

"He didn't deserve her," Domani says, staring down at him.

He's right. He didn't.

"She'll cry for him anyway."

Domani scowls at the reminder. Since getting married, he has even less tolerance for men like Esposito.

My phone vibrates against my thigh. The sound rips through the stillness, jarring in its urgency. Everyone knows we're here dealing with this. They wouldn't call. Too risky.

Karina.

Cristo. She shouldn't be calling now, not when I'm covered in death. But I don't even have to see the caller ID to know it's her.

I've avoided her for the last three days, trying desperately to do the right thing. At least, that's what I tell myself when I'm standing across from her father's house, watching her. When I'm following her around campus, stalking her. When I'm everywhere she is, unseen. She deserves better…and yet, I can't seem to stay away.

She's haunted my mind endlessly since I put her in the cab and watched her drive away. It has nothing to do with her father, either. I don't give a fuck that she's Alessepo's kid. It's her—her smile, her laughter, those gray eyes, that fierce courage.

"Karina?" I answer the call, my voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through me.

"C-Coda," she gasps my name, her voice shaking.

My hackles rise, fear for her shooting through me.

"Karina, what's wrong? Talk to me." I holster the gun without bothering to wipe it down, my senses prickling with a new kind of danger—one threatening someone I never meant to care for. And yet, I care for her far more than I've ever cared for anyone.

Domani eyes me, one brow lifted.

I shake my head, silently telling him not to even ask.

That's all he needs to know this doesn't involve him. Domani and I have worked side by side for fifteen years. Until him, I didn't have friends. I didn't need them, didn't want them, didn't give a shit about making them. The motherfucker wore me down.

I'd kill for him, no questions asked, and he'd do the same for me. But Karina is my business, and I'm not ready to talk about her to anyone.

"My father… I-I think he…" she stammers, stumbling all over her words as she tries to explain. Eventually, she gives up with a whimper. "I'm scared, Coda. I don't know what to do."

She's afraid. The same fiery little angel who put her hand in mine and followed me from that ballroom. The same brave little goddess who stood before me and stripped bare.

Hell no.

"Where are you?" My voice is granite-hard, a reflection of the cold anger settling deep within me. That motherfucker has her tangled in something dark enough to have her running to me. It's unacceptable.

"Northwestern," she whispers. "I-I didn't know where else to go so I ca-came back to campus."

"Stay there. I'm coming." I disconnect, all thoughts of cleanup and alibis pushed aside. Karina needs me, and that eclipses everything else.

The jaded, cynical motherfucker who has spent far too much time mired in darkness knows it could be a trap—an invitation to a bullet with my name on it. But it doesn't matter. In a matter of days, she's become the light in a world that I've let grow too dark. I'll be damned if I let that light go out. Not on my watch. Not ever.

"I have to go."

"I heard," Domani says. "You good?"

"I will be."

"You need backup?"

"No."

"Who's Karina?"

"My business."

He chuckles softly. "One of these fucking days, Coda…"

"Maybe, but not today." I pause, glancing back at him. "You good to clean this shit up and dump him?"

"Yeah. Go."

My boots echo against the concrete as I jog through the warehouse and out into the marina, leaving Domani on cleanup. My world narrows down to a singular mission: get to Karina.

Within minutes, I'm racing toward the university and the fiery little angel who needs me.

Fifteen minutes later, Northwestern University looms ahead, its grandeur doing nothing to ease the dread clawing at my gut. I park haphazardly, scanning the shadows for any sign of danger—or worse, any sign of Alessepo. All I find are students, blissfully unaware of the darkness lapping at the edges of their sanctuary.

She didn't tell me where on campus I'd find her, so I take off at a jog, checking every shadow. It doesn't take me long to find her—a lone figure huddled under an old oak tree. Her body shudders with silent sobs, her honey-blonde hair a veil hiding her face.

The sight breaks my fucking heart.

I may kill Alessepo for this moment alone. I've spent the last three days avoiding her because she deserves more—she deserves laughter and sunshine and happiness. All the shit I don't know how to give her. I'm a goddamn monster, falling in love with a lamb.

And somehow, in those three days, she's become worse off than she was when I was at her side. That's on Alessepo. And it's on me.

Never again. I won't ever allow her to cry like this again.

"Karina."

She lifts her head and sees me standing in front of her. "Coda." A fresh flood of tears pours down her cheeks as she flings herself at me, clutching my jacket with desperate fingers.

I catch her to me, pulling her into my arms.

Her body trembles—the contrast between her soft body and my hardened frame is a stark reminder of the gap that lies between us. It doesn't matter. Not any longer.

"Take me away from here," she pleads, the vulnerability in her voice ripping at my heart.

"Anywhere you want to go, cara," I promise immediately, guiding her toward the safety of my car. "You're safe now."

As she nestles into the passenger seat, I steal a glance at her.

Who knew that Miles Alessepo's princess would find solace in the arms of a man like me? But she has, and now there's no turning back. I'm her shield against the dark, her safety. I'll fucking kill anyone who tries to take her from me.

"Coda…" Her voice is a thread.

"Shh," I soothe, running my fingertips across her cheek. "Just let me take care of you."

We drive off, leaving the relative safety of the campus for a reality where survival is the only lesson that counts.

The city blurs past us, a smear of lights and shadows as I reach over and slip my hand into hers.

"Karina, look at me," I command gently.

She obeys, her wide, watery eyes meeting mine.

"You're safe with me, cara."

"I know," she whispers, her words so faint they're almost lost beneath the engine's purr.

I hear them, though. She steals the biggest fucking piece of my heart when she whispers them.

The drive to my place is silent, the streets emptying as we enter the Gold Coast neighborhood, a more affluent part of the city. The high-rise that houses my apartment looms ahead, a stark white monolith against the night sky.

"Where are we?" she asks, her voice steadier now.

"Home," I say simply.

Her gaze flits to me, searching. Eventually, she nods.

I park in the underground garage and take the elevator up. I keep her close, one arm wrapped carefully around her. She leans into me, accepting the comfort I offer. Her presence fills the small space, a mix of vanilla and anxiety—a scent that will linger in my memory far longer than I care to admit.

Her gaze flickers to mine when she sees the locks on my door. I don't explain. There's nothing I could say that she'd understand. My world and hers are universes apart—precisely as they should be. And yet, she's here anyway.

The door to my condo finally swings open with a click. I usher her inside before turning to lock it back down. She drifts deeper into the condo.

I've spent most of my time living on-site at the Valentino compound since I was nineteen. I don't come home often, so there's little here—a white leather sofa and matching armchair, a glass coffee table, a bookshelf filled with books I never have time to read.

For once, the place doesn't feel empty. Not with Karina here.

"Make yourself comfortable, cara." I shrug off my suit jacket and toss it over the back of the chair.

She hovers by the threshold, drinking in the sterile neatness. I see the wheels turning in her head as she processes her surroundings.

"Will I be safe here?" she asks, a quiver in her voice.

"Safer than anywhere else." I stride back to her side. "No one gets in or out without my say-so."

She nods, her shoulders drooping in relief. But I see the questions in her eyes. I decide to head them off, knowing they won't lead anywhere good. I don't want to lie to her, but she isn't ready to hear the truth about who and what I am.

"What did you see tonight, cara?" I ask instead. "What has you so afraid?"

She flinches, and I curse myself. Perhaps now isn't the time for that, either. She needs comfort, not questions.

"Come on," I say, leading her to the couch. I pull her down onto my lap, holding her. "You don't owe me answers, angioletta."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice a fragile thread. "For all of this… for intruding into your life. I know you p-probably didn't mean to ever hear from me again."

I tip her head back, examining her face. "Is that what you think?"

"It's true, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't." I feather my fingers along her cheek, my eyes locked on hers. I want to protect her, yes, but more than that—I want her. Against reason, against the rules, I want her. "I've tried like hell to stay away. I should stay away. But you're all I've thought about since I watched the cab drive away, Karina." My thumb traces her full bottom lip. "I regretted letting you go. I regretted not finishing what we started."

She watches me, her eyes wide.

"Even now, when you're hurting, I'm thinking about things I shouldn't."

Her tongue skirts across her bottom lip. "L-like what?"

"Like you on your knees with my cock stuffed down your pretty little throat." I wrap gentle fingers around the column of her throat to illustrate my point. "I'm not a good man, cara." I swallow. "I'm not good for you. But you followed me out of that ballroom, and now I'm afraid I'm going to blacken your soul."

"Do it," she whimpers. "Please, Coda."

Yet again, she doesn't know what she asks. And yet again, I'm helpless to do anything except give it to her anyway. Not because of her father. Not because of my vendetta. Not for any reason other than her and the way she makes me feel.

Alive. For the first time in years, I feel alive.

I pull her down to me, brushing my lips across hers. "Mi fai sognare."

She sighs sweetly and snuggles up to me, our bodies molding together perfectly, even though they shouldn't. We're a puzzle with mismatched pieces, but for some reason, we fit together seamlessly.

In this moment, with Karina in my arms, the past and future fade. Here, now, I'm her shield and her avenger, and that's all that matters. Not what I've done. Not her father. Not the mafia. Just her.

"I learned the truth about my father today," she whispers. "I've been wondering for a while if he was one of the good guys or not, and now I know. He isn't."

"What happened, cara?"

"He was on the phone with these men. He didn't see me, but I heard things I shouldn't have." She lifts her gaze to mine, her eyes wide and haunted. "They were talking about a shipment. He's bringing illegal guns in and selling them on the streets, Coda."

"Tell me exactly what you heard," I say, my voice a soft command rooting her to this moment.

Her story spills out in fragments, painting a picture I know all too well: deals wrought in shadow, lives bartered for power. It's a goddamn tale as old as time.

As she speaks, my mind races, piecing together the jagged edges of information into a coherent whole. Alexander Santorum, the last Superintendent of Police was involved in something similar. He was dumping large quantities of guns into the streets and then screaming about gun violence to anyone who would listen. We initially thought he was swiping them from the evidence room, but later learned that wasn't the full extent of his crimes. The guns were being shipped into the city.

I'm guessing his contacts intend to pick up with Alessepo where he left off. It doesn't surprise me that Alessepo's involved in the same shady deal. The motherfucker has been dirty since before Karina was born.

But this time, he's overstepped, leaving breadcrumbs that lead straight to his door—and his downfall. We already know about the operation. We've known since Rafe forced Santorum to swear allegiance a few years ago.

"He's playing a dangerous game," I mutter.

"Can you stop him?" There's a plea in her eyes, a desperate hope for salvation from the sins of her father.

I've always known her father was a prick. She's just learning it for the first time. It's hard to find out that your heroes are dirty bastards. I imagine it's even harder when they're your parents.

"I don't know, cara, but I can certainly try."

She exhales a breath, bowing her head.

I pull her closer, resting my lips against her forehead. "You'll be safe, Karina. I'll ensure it," I promise. "No matter what he's mixed up in, I won't allow you to be hurt."

I'll burn the city to the ground before allowing that.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" she asks.

I look down at her, a flicker of surprise flowing through me. She's scared, raw with it. I feel it in the way her body trembles against mine and the way she hesitates to meet my gaze. There's a vulnerability there, the kind that wants to trust but doesn't know how to anymore. In a matter of days, her father destroyed that.

The stronzo.

I tilt up her chin, forcing her to look into my eyes. "You're not just staying tonight, Karina," I tell her firmly, holding her gaze captive. "You're staying with me until this is cleaned up, and I'm sure you're safe."

Her eyes widen a bit at my words, but she nods. She looks so lost that it physically hurts. Fuck Alessepo for doing this to her—for tainting her innocence.

Desperate to give her back a little of what he took—to remind her that she's still the same fierce woman she was just a few days ago, I lean down, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss.

Her gasp is lost to a moan. I pull her tighter against me, needing to feel her, to assure myself that she truly is here and real.

She clings to me like a lifeline as I deepen the kiss, my hands tangling in her hair as I explore her mouth. It's a kiss designed to erase her fear, to replace it with want and need. With every flick of my tongue against hers, every breathless gasp that escapes her lips, I claim more of her.

Pulling back reluctantly, I press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Cristo, the things you do to me, Karina," I groan.

She looks up at me, a tiny smile curving her lips. I see the fire in her eyes now—a familiar spark of defiance that makes my dick throb.

There she is, the fiery little angel who claimed my soul.

Scooping her into my arms bridal style, I feel her wrap her arms around my neck instinctively. I carry her down the short hall toward my bedroom.

A sigh escapes her as I lay her gently on the bed. She fits perfectly against me as we lay facing each other. Her breath hitches when I brush away a loose strand of her hair, my touch gentle as I trace the curves of her face.

"Sleep, cara," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.

As her eyes flutter closed, I watch over her—wide awake and seething. Awed and silent, too. How the fuck did a demon like me end up with an angel like her in my bed?

I don't know, but I'm keeping her.

And Alessepo's going to pay for every fucking tear she cried tonight.