Page 123 of Savage Enemy

And I would take Aris’s evil ass with me.

I choose to fight, motherfuckers.

To avoid going with the Russians, I would have to kill every man in the house. My entire family. They outnumbered me. If I dared to take them on, I would die. Fact.

Taking out Aris first was my only strategic move.

Seemed fair considering the twin thing. We came into the world together, him three minutes before me, so according to my logic, we should go out the same way. Him about three minutes before they took me out.

This was the one part of my plan that gave me any peace.

Taking Aris’s life to save my son’s seemed like the best way to make my final exit.

I glanced at the little antique clock on my dresser.

10:10 p.m. I needed to wait a while.

Midnight was the easiest time to get around the house.

Not only did Saul sleep before that, but also the guards changed shifts at midnight. The men would be inside the cabin in the back, swapping out weapons and reassigning duties.

I never understood why Saul gambled with his life by separating his men from the main house, but it had always been that way, and I appreciated it now more than ever.

Oh, wait—arrogance. That was why he did it.

While waiting for the clock in the hallway to strike twelve, I ran through the plan in my head on repeat, hoping something better occurred to me, cursing at the fucking clock, cursing at Stefano, Saul, even myself.

When I was a child waiting for midnight to sneak down to the kitchen, I always doubted myself, and often, I ended up going back to bed on an empty stomach.

Saul had dictated calorie restrictions for my mother and me.

On the rare occasion when I found the courage to make the trek, anxiety had nearly suffocated me before I made it back.

This time, though, complete resolve expanded inside my lungs and gave me the breath I needed. My nerves didn’t buzz, and my stomach didn’t cramp from the fear.

True resolve made people dangerous—especially women. It scared men, as it should have. Oppressors should have always feared the strength of the oppressed when they had nothing more to lose.

Ten minutes before the hour.

I wished I could do something more. I couldn’t contact my son or Stefano. I couldn’t leave them a note. They’d never see it.

I could pray for them.

Sinking to the floor on my knees, I closed my eyes, and begged the spirits of my grandmothers to watch over my son. To keep him safe the way they once kept me safe.

I prayed to the Virgin Mother, asking her to make Enzo strong, to make sure his father gave him the tools he needed to face whatever life threw at him.

And I asked her to forgive Stefano for his sins.

Stefano had racked up quite a list for sure, and he was too proud to go to confession.

His pride only added to the list.

So I confessed on his behalf and asked the Virgin Mother to be patient with him. He never had a chance at a normal life, because his family took it from him, and he should not suffer for surviving the sins of his father.

I begged her to guide him, to show him how to be the good father Enzo needed.

“Amen,” I whispered.

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