Page 149 of His Juliet

She grinned, a deeply unsettling expression on her face. “My name is Elira. Elira Leka. I am the new Krye of the Albanian Mafia, and you”—she gestured around the room—“are all here because I made it so.”

“What do you mean?” Matteo’s voice was strong and booming.

“Who do you think ensured the Butcher’s call to you was placed through an unencrypted server so you could find our location? Who do you think leaked the information about this wedding so your little informants could tell you the location? Nothing here has happened by chance.”

“With what goal in mind?” Matteo asked carefully, but my patience had run out.

“Tell me what’s going on with Juliet! Prove to me that she’s not dead,” I shouted.

Elira pursed her lips before walking to a man slumped over a table. She yanked on his hair, forcing his head back before taking a small vial from her pocket and pouring it down his throat.

“This is my dear husband. Bujar, can you hear me?” She slapped his cheek.

The dead man groaned and twitched as he came back to life.

Overwhelming hope crashed over me like a wave. I faltered, suddenly dizzy. Did I dare believe that Juliet was also alive?

The man—Bujar—slowly blinked his eyes open.

“There you are,” Elira said, turning to me. “See, alive and well.” Then, in a flash of metal, her knife plunged into her husband’s chest. Blood poured from the wound. His weak hand rose as if to grab the knife, but he collapsed before he could touch it. “Well, alive and well no longer, but I assume I proved my point.”

Our soldiers shifted, unnerved by the woman’s actions, but Leona raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. I didn’t give a fuck if this woman gutted every single man in this room. All I needed was my love, alive and awake in my arms.

“I carry the antidote for the poison Juliet ingested, but it will only work for the next”—Elira peered at her watch—“twelve minutes. After that, she really will be dead.”

I lunged towards her, and dozens of guns immediately pointed at me.

“Now, now, Romeo, I expect you to play nice. Juliet’s life depends on it.”

I seethed, rooting my feet to the floor. She was toying with Juliet’s life, and for that, she would pay.

“What do you want from us?” Matteo asked.

“We want to forge an alliance between the new Albanian Mafia and the Italian Mafia.” Matteo started to respond, but Elira cut him off. “But our alliance would not be with you.”

Matteo and I frowned, exchanging glances.

“Who would it be with?” he asked.

“With Juliet. My niece,” Elira said. Her green eyes pierced mine. Familiar eyes. Juliet’s eyes.

“Juliet is not the head of the Italian Mafia,” Matteo said.

“No. However, she is the one we’re willing to ally with. We do not strike deals with men.”

My body twitched with panicked impatience. “In order to form an alliance with Juliet, she needs to be alive.” I was seconds away from lunging at Elira and prying the antidote from her. I didn’t care if all the women emptied all their magazines in me as long as Juliet woke up.

“Do we have your agreement, Don Rossi?” Elira’s steely voice was laced with contempt.

I looked over at my brother, silently begging him to agree. What Elira proposed was a massive insult to Matteo’s authority, but it was the only way to save the love of my life. And from what I’d seen, we didn’t want these women as enemies.

“We will discuss terms once Juliet has recovered,” he said.

Elira nodded. “Excellent.”

She pulled out another vial from her pocket. I snatched it and sprinted back to that godforsaken bedroom.

The room where you left her. How could you have done that, you bastard?

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