Page 7 of Savage Claim

I blinked at him. The Palazzo was in the middle of Cosa Nostra territory. It would put him directly in the middle of enemy territory, so to speak. “The annual revenue is more than eighty million,” I said. “Why on earth would I transfer the ownership to you?”

Artem tightened his grip until Isabella squeaked. “I’ll send her to join Sienna in Heaven.”

The world faded out around us and everything became static. My whole world focused in on Artem. I couldn’t even see Isabella in his arms anymore. Of course, it was him. It made perfect sense: he had been slowly moving against me for years. In fits and spurts.

The darkest parts of my soul took hold of my chest, clawing their way out of my throat, but I kept my face perfectly calm. “How much did you pay my cousin to betray me?”

Artem laughed. The sound was rich and thick and far too smug. “It didn’t take much at all,” he said. “I promised him that he could take your place, and that we would work together. I never gave him a dime.”

If he wasn’t dead already, I would have put Francis in the basement beside Santino. “Tell me something, Artem.” I pretended to drop the pen. When I reached down to get it, I slid the blade in my boot into the palm of my hand. I stood back up. “Did you promise my cousin power before or after he begged you to take him in?”

Artem’s phone began to ring. He ignored it, and it stopped. A few moments later, it started up again. And then again, a few moments later. “You should pick that up,” I suggested.

Growling, Artem picked up the next call, and I watched with sick pleasure as his eyes went wide. “Pity about that bartender,” I said, and his eyes snapped to me. “You were second cousins, weren’t you? My condolences.”

Isabella wriggled in Artem’s grasp. “Lorenzo,” she slurred.

“Don’t worry,dolcezza,” I said, though my eyes never left Artem. The man was breathing hard, barely holding on to his anger. Exactly where I wanted him.

CHAPTER 6

Isabella

Lorenzo had a plan to get out of here. Of course, he did. He would have never walked in here without one. But his cold demeanor made my chest feel tight. What if his plan didn’t include me?

The blade pressing against my belly bit into my flesh even more as I tried to get away from Artem’s lips on my cheek. I was bleeding, but I wasn’t sure how deep the wound was. I couldn’t look down enough to see it.

“Let Isabella go,” Lorenzo said, “and no one else will be hurt.” He glanced down at his watch. “Your daughter’s ballet class runs so late during recital season. It would be a shame if a bullet went flying through that big picture window at her studio.”

The knife sank deeper, and the fear that gripped me was even greater than the pain. I couldn’t—Iwouldn’t—wait. Fortunately, my head was still fuzzy from whatever they used to subdue me earlier, so when I brought my head back and smashed it into Artem’s nose, I barely felt it, but my vision did go gray for a moment.

Artem yelped, and he let me go just as the world exploded around us. I fell to the ground, clapping my hand over the gash in my side, and I kept my head down as gunshots rang out above me. The desk that I had collapsed next to started to fragment into pieces as bullets struck it.

Shaking my head slightly, I groaned as my vision grayed out again. I couldn’t just lie here; I needed to move. I tried crawling around the desk, but my movements were clunky and slow. The world was pulsing and hazy; it felt like I was floating just outside of my body, and it took everything in me to get my limbs to move the way that I wanted them to.

The knife didn’t go that deep, I assured myself, and I kept hold of it as an anchor. But my heart was beating in my ears, and stress was so bad for a developing fetus. Something heavy landed between my shoulder blades and pressed me down into the floor, and my panic reached a fever pitch.

I couldn’t breathe, and the more I struggled, the more force was applied to my back. Just as I was blacking out, the weight lifted, and someone flipped me over. “Breathe,piccola,” Elio demanded gently. “You can’t pass out on us now. Not when we all deserve to be yelled at.”

So, Lorenzo told him about what I found.

I forced myself to focus on the big man above me. “Fuck. You.”

Elio grinned. “Save one of those for Lorenzo, yeah?” He gave me a self-deprecating look. “Give Amalia a break though? She’s still in the hospital.”

I took another breath. The pain in my head was starting to be a real issue: my stomach was twisting around itself, and I had avery real fear that I was going to throw up. “We’ll. See.” It was as magnanimous as I could be, given the circumstances.

Elio’s arms went under my legs and around my shoulders, and I whined softly as he jostled me. “Hold on,piccola.”

Lorenzo

Elio and I had gone for Santino the second he stepped on Isabella’s back, but my cousin had gotten to him first. He threw the man off, but instead of tackling him to the ground, he dipped down to check on Isabella.

Damian and I focused on Artem, who was shooting at us from behind the desk. Samuel was covering us, taking on the guards who had come running as soon as shots were fired.

Every time Artem came into view, I could see the blood coming from his nose. It and his eyes were swelling: Isabella must have crushed the bones in his face with that head butt. A fierce pride took hold of me, grappling with my anger towards her.

I didn’t have time to see who would win. I wanted Artem dead, and then I could drag Santino to his fucking end, but Elio called to me, “She’s not in good shape,cugino.”

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