Page 218 of Stalking Ginevra

“Wasn’t Roman on death row at the same time as your brother?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Of course. This is how it all began.”

I don’t have the mental bandwidth to ask him to explain. All I care about is leaving the car.

“Let’s do the simultaneous release,” I say. “Gianni walks forward at the same time. Once your brother is in the car, they’ll let you go.”

“They won’t.”

“He already secured your safety.” I gesture at Gianni.

Valentino raises the gun to his temple and scratches. “If you’re wrong?—”

“Then I’ll come back,” I lie.

“Come on, Val,” Gianni says. “Don’t piss off the Montesano family.”

He shakes his head. “Fine.”

I open the door, and with a trembling breath, step out into the twilight. Cool, juniper-scented air sweeps across my face, carrying the scent of freedom. My knees buckle, but I hold onto the side of the car, forcing my body upright.

Up ahead, Gianni takes a single step forward, his gaze fixed on mine. I mirror his movements, my heart pounding hard enough to broadcast my ill intentions.

He tilts his head, gazing down at me, his eyes calculating. I wonder if he’s assessing whether I’m worth the hundred million dollar ransom.

“So, you’re Ginevra,” he says, his voice seductively low.

“Recognize this face?” I ask with a soft smile.

His brows pinch. “Vaguely. Do I know you?”

The knife finds his gut before he can finish. “No. But you know Jennifer. I’m her daughter.”

Eyes widening, he grabs my shoulders, his fingers digging in like claws. “What the?—”

“That young woman you married then murdered for money.” I twist the blade free, then drive it up between his ribs.

He collapses, but before I can turn, Valentino’s voice booms from behind. “Gianni!”

I whirl around. Valentino is already out of the car, his pistol aimed at my head. A gunshot cracks through the night, then everything happens at once.

A blur of movement, then something slamming into my side. I fall, expecting the searing pain of the bullet, but all I feel is the crushing weight of a larger body pinning me to the ground.

Heat spreads across my chest, sticky and warm. It’s blood, but not mine.

Gunfire erupts. Feet pound the earth, dragging off the weight. I draw in a noisy breath, my vision swimming, and blink away the dark spots.

When I turn to look at the face of my savior, it’s Benito.

And he’s gushing blood.

NINETY-NINE

BENITO

Reaper rolls me onto my back, pressing down on my neck. Sharp, burning pain flares across my throat, and I swear I feel my life slipping between his fingers.

I blink up at the twilight sky, seeing nothing but a canvas of stars. Then my vision blurs, with black creeping in the edges, dragging me toward unconsciousness.

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