LOGINAdriano slowly lifted his boot, letting the blood drip off the leather onto the concrete as his stare swept across the rest. "Now," he whispered, a terrifying smile finally touching the corners of his lips, "Who else feels like telling me a story?" Morgan started sobbing violently. I shook my h
No, no! "I wasn't even there when they hurt the girl!" Cole yelled, "They brought her to me already bleeding! Brianna was the one who hit her in the head! She used a heavy wooden club from the garage! They carried her in here like a sack of rocks, and I was the one who washed the blood off her fac
Cole’s chest heaved, his eyes turned frantic, like a rat looking for a hole in the wall. "I know how Chicago works. You don't survive in this city by picking a fight with the Capones," he slowly shook his head, "I'm not suicidal." My stomach twisted. No. He was lying. I made a desperate sound
"Move!" Capone guards surged forward with frightening speed. Cole's men reached for their weapons but they never got the chance. One guard twisted a man's arm behind his back before he had even cleared his waistband. Another kicked a pistol across the concrete floor. Boots thundered in every dire
I looked at Cole again. He wasn't even watching us. He was checking his phone. Rage exploded inside me, "MMPH!" I lunged forward as far as the ropes allowed. "If she keeps doing that," he said calmly, "she'll reopen the wound." I wanted to claw his face apart. I wanted to scream. Instead, anoth
Gianna ━⊰ ❦ ⊱━ Pain. That was the first thing I felt. It was a deep, heavy ache that pulsed through the back of my head. It throbbed with every heartbeat, every breath, every tiny movement. A quiet whimper escaped me before I even opened my eyes. The world slowly came into focus. The ceiling a
"Bored?" Dante repeated, "You? Since when do you leave a hunt behind? People are asking questions. They say they saw you hauling someone out of the hunt. They say you looked like you were ready to kill." "People talk too much when they’re high," I snapped, my temper finally fraying, "I’m in my room
"Soft," she whispered, and reached out and grabbed a handful of the sheet, pulling it to her chest, "It smells like you." I stood over her, my hands on my hips, watching her. She looked so small in the middle of my bed. She was curled up on her side, her knees tucked toward her chest. The bandages
I raced toward the iron gates of the Capone estate, the tires of the Ducati screaming. I didn't slow down while the sensors picked up the chip in my bike, the heavy metal bars groaning as they swung open. The security guards stood at the entrance, their hands resting on their holsters. I didn't wan
I looked at the bike, then at her. She was swaying in my arms, her head lolling back, eyes half-closed as she hummed some tuneless song. "Dammit," I muttered. If I put her on the back, she’d slide right off the seat the second I hit sixty. She didn't have the strength to hold on, and her brain w







