Page 43 of The Contract

He’s right. Behind him the guards are already looking our way.

He scoots me to the alley, out of earshot of a dozen construction guys and guards who’ve all suddenly stopped what they were doing to casually listen.

My back taps the brick wall. Two massive arms cage me in. “You’re crying.”

I wipe my cheek. “No, I’m not.”

“Tell me who upset you, and I will kill them.”

CHAPTER 11

Riley

I blink in disbelief. “You’d kill for me?”

Dante doesn’t hesitate, not even a heartbeat. “Yes.”

“Why? Because I’m family?” I toss air quotes around the word.

“Yes,” he repeats, voice steady, unwavering.

I narrow my eyes. “And what if the person who needs killing is your family?”

Tension cords along his neck, tightens his jaw. His voice dips dangerously low. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On what they did.” His eyes darken. “Or maybe just the fucking time of day.”

He says it in that love-you, want-to-kill-you tone only siblings can master. But under it, something raw. Like maybe, just maybe, he means it.

“Let’s start with who we’re talking about,” he demands quietly, steel blue eyes fixed on mine.

Enzo. Killed. Da.

Three reckless words claw at my throat, violent, relentless, forcing me to bite down until I taste blood. But I clamp my mouth shut, trapping the confession on my tongue.

Trusting Dante with this, or trusting him at all, is suicide.

Even so, a dangerous part of me doesn’t care. That reckless, destructive part determined to pull the pin, toss the grenade, and watch the truth detonate between us.

“I’m waiting, Pom.”

Pom…like what? I’m some yippy little dog he’s going to train. A flare of indignation burns through me, tangled hopelessly with a confusing warmth that refuses to be ignored.

Backed against a wall, with nowhere to go but straight through, I shove hard at his chest. “Go to hell.”

Desperate for space, I push past him.

I barely clear his massive frame before his palms slam against the wall on either side of my head, trapping me between cold brick and burning skin.

His voice drops to a rough growl, patience utterly stripped away. “Talk.”

I slam both fists into his chest. They barely register. Like pebbles flung against a redwood. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t stop me, just lets me lash out again and again until tears sting my eyes, hot and raw.

The truth finally rips from my chest. “My father’s life was torn from me.”

His eyes squeeze shut, forehead pressing against mine. His voice comes out a painful rasp against my skin. “So was mine.”

---