Page 6 of Sinner's Vows

Randazzo is an enigma. Long ago, he went underground and ran his operations through a three-dimensional maze of henchmen so thickly layered, with so many twists and turns, getting to the man proved impossible.

But Randazzo took everything from me, and I’d vowed I’ll get my revenge. I’ve committed the past seven years of my life to this task, preparing to take him down…only for him to go bask in Hell without ever having to look me in the eye. Because someone got to him first. How the fuck did he do it?

“Get on with it, Ana,” one bodyguard says as he steps up to me. “Shop opens in half an hour.”

This wasn’t the plan. Sweat breaks out between my breasts and down my back. The plan was to stop this sex-slave auction from happening, but nobody has raided this place yet. Where the fuck is my team? I clamp down on the anxiety eating my gut and telling me this operation has been compromised. How? We were fool-proof, unbreachable. This can’t happen. It can’t be real.

“Yes,” I say, playing my part even if my sixth sense tells me to run as self-preservation makes me fall back into character.Observe, adapt, and react only when the time is right.

Shit.

“Blink,cara,” I instruct softly so I can blend the fake eyelashes with the girl’s real ones, trying to bring life to the hollow look in her eyes.

The girl blinks, but it’s like one of those old dolls whose eyes close as you tip their heads. She’s so young. On paper, it says she’s eighteen, but she could be fifteen for all I know. Apparently, she signed up for this herself, but guns held to your parents’ heads could make a lot of people do things they don’t want to, especially if you’re not from Italy and in a moment of misunderstanding handed over your passport.

We’re all in serious trouble here. Hyperventilating won’t get me anywhere, so best I think rationally. Or attempt to, at least. My team is missing in action, and my type don’t get out of here alive. Not with what I’ve observed three days into this operation. With my luck, I’ll end up on that auction stage, too.

At least one thing stands true: comparing me with the women for sale would be like putting a donkey next to a unicorn and asking a stallion which one he’d like to fuck. All the bidders tapping into this sex-slave market think they’re Italian stallions, and for their money, they only want pretty unicorns. The prosthetics I apply protect me up to a point, but now I can’t risk even being here, never mind hiding behind fake burnt skin covering half my face.

As I apply a second mascara coat, feet shuffle, and an unnatural quiet descends over the room. A chill prickles down my spine, as if Death itself has swept in, suffocating even the soft breathing of the drugged women lined up in chairs along the wall.

Without moving, I glance up into the mirror to see who has walked in.

He meets my gaze, and shock zaps through me like an electric current. The mascara wand drops from my hand as fear cuts through me like an Arctic wind, making goosebumps pop on my arms and freezing the blood in my veins.

Franco Fiore.

God. How is it possible? This demon from hell was supposed to have been apprehended by now. I was never meant to come face to face with him during this operation—I made sure of it.

Something went wrong. Very wrong.

I swallow hard as I blink, making sure I’m not seeing a ghost.

But he’s real. So fucking real in his black suit and black shirt and black tie and black scowl, even his stained teeth seem grey against his tanned skin and the black ink of the tattoo reaching up to his chin.

He stares at me as if he came for me. How did he know?—

I cower back as he steps closer, the very Devil in disguise, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets, inspecting me with those little shark eyes that see everything. The bodyguards have closed the only escape with the bulk of their bodies, blocking the narrow door.

I should have run. As soon as my sixth sense had told me to get the hell out of there, I should have bolted.

Now, it’s too late.I can’t break eye contact with Franco, hypnotized as if he’s a snake.Thatnight flashes back in my mind, as it still does, often and without invitation. Those memories have helped me get this far, fueled my vendetta against this man, but now he’shere?

This wasn’t the plan. It hits me that my team doesn’t know where I am anymore. I’m on my own.

“Ariana Morelli,” Franco says in greeting, his voice deep and grainy. “I preferred Emilia. It’s been a long time.”

Twelve years. Twelve long and harrowing years of looking behind my back, treading water, and diving deep to stay hidden between the reeds of this life I’ve been running from. From a world I have vowed to bring down if it’s the last thing I do. A mission I’m willing to die for.

Oh, I’m staring death in the eyes.

If he knew where to find me, what else does he know?

Everything.

He holds out his hand to me, but I’d rather be buried alive in a coffin full of rattlesnakes than touch him.

“Come,piccola ragazza, Randazzo has asked you to join him. At last.”

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