Page 110 of Possessive Mafia Vows

I spread my hands wide, palms facing outward. “No weapons. Let Sienna go.”

“Still think you can call the shots.”

A gust catches hold of them, and they stumble forwards, locked together. Nick quickly regains his balance, but my heart has already lurched into my mouth. One more strong gust is all it’s going to take to suck them both over the side of the cliff.

“I’m not calling the shots. I’m begging you to let her go. Sienna doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve any of it.”

His eyes are dark, sunken into their sockets; he’s playing a dangerous game, and he knows that if she goes over the side, he’s going with her. He’s dragging it out because this isn’t about Sienna. This is about him wanting to be in control, abouthim finally having the power that his half-brothers have gained through hard work, loyalty, and respect.

The difference is, he expects to gain the same level of power by murdering an innocent woman.

My woman

My soulmate.

“Did you know that she’s having your baby?”

His words punch a hole in my gut and stun me into silence. I feel the wind howling straight through me as if I’m nothing. A feather caught on a summer breeze.

My baby?

He’s toying with me. Twisting the knife before he pulls it out and tosses me aside.

But when my eyes meet Sienna’s, I know that it’s true. Her eyes are pleading with me to save her, to save them both: her and our baby.

“Shame that it won’t save them,” Nick yells over the wind as if reading my mind.

“I’ll give you the Titan,” I yell back, my throat hoarse.

“No!” Sienna screams. “No, Kyle! Don’t?—”

Nick jabs the end of the pistol against her skull to shut her up. “Too late! We already have the Titan.”

He’s bluffing. He must be. There’s no way Caleb would ever hand over any part of the Murray empire without fighting for it, and the fight has only just begun.

Well, two can play this game. “Name your price, Nick. Whatever you want. Whatever it will take to save Sienna.”

Sienna’s shoulders heave with sobs, her tears mingling with the rain streaking her pale face. But she’s still standing tall, chin jutting, defiant as always. If only she believed in her own strength.

He flicks wet hair out of his eyes. “We have the Titan. It’s only a matter of time before we take everything else the Murrays own. So, you see, we don’t need her now. She’s superfluous to requirements. Baggage that we can do without when we go back to New York and claim our prize.”

I need to keep him talking. He hasn’t loosened his hold on Sienna, and I need to get her away from him before I shoot the fucker. A bullet through the head will be too easy. I want to see the fear in his eyes. I want to watch him fly over the edge of that cliff, knowing that his death will be anything but quick and painless.

“Why?” I call out. “What’s this all about?”

The demonic grin is back. “I thought you’d have figured it out. We’re half-brothers. What’s yours is mine, etc. Why should you get to live a life of luxury while I spend the rest of my life turning mutton into lamb. Do you have any idea how soul-destroying it is to watch you and your brothers parading your wealth around the city while I get nothing?”

We were right about Nick Morris, but it’s no consolation hearing it from his own mouth. I remain silent and keep my hands by my sides. I’m hoping that his bitterness will keep him talking so that I can convey a message to Sienna with my eyes. If she raises her feet off the ground when I give the signal, he’ll lose his balance,and it will give me a fraction of a second to fire a bullet into his leg.

“It’s sickening,” he continues. His mouth twists into an ugly sneer. “What have you ever done to deserve that life, huh?”

I can think of plenty, but I’m not about to share my life experience with him, not while he has a gun pressed to my woman’s head. Instead, I switch my attention to Sienna. She’s struggling. Her chest is heaving, trying to fill her lungs.

I hold her gaze and lower my eyes to the ground. She tracks my movement to my feet. I don’t know if she understands what I’m trying to convey, but her captor is still speaking, and I need to keep him distracted now that he has begun his sour rant.

“My life!” I’m certain that if he had a free hand right now, he’d be thumping his chest dramatically like a deposed monarch of ancient times facing his executioner. “You stole my life from me! My mom died because of him, because of our father. You… You still get to speak to your mom every day of your life. What do I get?”

Through the squally lashing rain, I can see him withdrawing. His body is present, but his mind is elsewhere, reliving the traumatic childhood experiences that led him to this moment. This is dangerous.

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