Page 55 of Impenitent Claim

But not until my sweet siren was back in the house.

When a text came from Tullio, I had to leave her crying in the dark. Stalking to the front of the house, I glared at the gravel. What I felt could no doubt be read on my face. Burying it was impossible. I didn’t want to draw questions from the underboss, so I refused to look up and meet his gaze as he left the house, deep in conversation with the don.

“And tell Gambino to keep his fucking paws off my son’s fiancé,” Aldo snapped. “I can’t have her virtue called into question.”

“But she was causing a scene, signore. I hardly think Tony’s actions were uncalled for given the circumstances,” Tullio muttered sullenly.

Red—the world descended into a single color.

Luckily, I was already looking at the ground so there was no chance of these bastards seeing the murderous glint in my eyes.

“Deal with it,” the don snapped.

“Si, signore.” The underboss trudged down the steps.

Someone dared touch my girl? Not only was she distraught about the situation with her kid brother, but someone dared physically assault her? Blood would spill for this. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t reveal myself and risk starting a war with the eastern organizations. Their goon hurt her, and they weren’t going to punish the action.

“Time to go, Elijah.”

The underboss’s words had my fingers itching for the knife sheathed in my boot.

I drew a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

If he heard the tightness in my voice, Tullio didn’t comment. I risked a glance, needing to see to better read the situation. The underboss was in a foul mood. It was a wonder his bad energy didn’t stink up the night.

Before I left town, I would punish Tullio Fabrizi for his callousness in this situation. Perhaps I would remove a body part, crippling him for it—which was far more terrible than death. The bitter part was that I would have to wear a mask while performing the amputation. Couldn’t have him knowing it was me and risk his revenge search.

This Gambino was a dead man. That much was certain.

Don Aldo was unfazed, going around his sleek, luxury car to the driver’s side. “I don’t know what my friend as told you, Elijah.” He gave a pointed look to his underboss. “But it goes without saying that if you breathe a word of what you see and hear in this house, you’ll find yourself in a world of hurt.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow. Keep your mouth shut,” Tullio snapped. His body shook with anger as he worked his jaw back and forth.

I nodded. “I understand.”

These threats were laughable. While I was sure they did their fair bit of torture and slaughtered numerous enemies, they couldn’t do anything to me that I hadn’t seen, participated in, or been on the receiving end of before. My body was littered with the evidence of such past encounters.

These were guppies in an ocean when I’d known the true sharks of the sea.

Stalking to my beater, I quickly drove away, turning the opposite direction of the don, who’d followed me out of the gate. Only when I was sure they hadn’t followed, did I turn into a thickly wooded area and park the car in its usual spot. It took fifteen minutes at a fast clip to double back on foot. The blood inmy veins hammered wildly. I had to make sure Isabella escaped the cold.

Over the wall at the spot where the cameras would never catch me, I sprinted into the tree cover. My feet crunched over the ground, wishing it would stay lighter longer. Fucking fall and winter, when the days were short. While it made for better prowling, right now, I could really use a glimmer of light.

There was no more crying, so I was almost certain she’d gone back inside when I nearly stepped on her. My little temptress wasn’t moving.

“Izzy?” I crouched, reaching for her.

Damn, she was cold.

With a growl of frustration, I removed my jacket and wrapped her tight. She was small in my arms, tiny and fragile. I hugged her close, willing my body’s heat to transfer. Her steady breathing was the only thing that kept me calm.

Through the silent halls, I carried my precious load to a place of warmth and safety. There was no one in the back of the house, but the door next to Isabella’s, the one her fiancé occupied, had a trickle of noise coming from under it. The temptation to push in there and snap his neck was strong. She’d been hurt, physically and emotionally, and he was nowhere to protect her.

His time’s coming.

Only, as I pushed into Isabella’s room, a wave of guilt washed through me. My sweet siren wouldn’t like that. A long, rough exhale worked its way from my lungs. Well, the little prince should be punished. If I was in his shoes, I would know where my fiancée was at all times, not let her go out to weep in the cold.

Which was exactly why she was mine, not his.

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