“We’ve lost eight men!” I shout, the anger that’s been taking over my life, spiraling into a dark, turbulent storm, threatening to destroy everything in my path.
“You think I’m not aware?” Andreas shouts back. “Theo was a good friend. We all feel the loss.”
Our anger and grief swirl thick in the air.
Andreas shakes his head, his concerned eyes drifting over my face. “What do we do next?”
“We have to find out where Manno’s hiding.” So I can fucking rip his spine out through his throat.
“How? None of the Sicilians are talking.”
There’s only one way left, and as much as I hate it, I pick up my phone and dial Viktor’s number.
A chuckle sounds over the line. “Nikolas. I’m not surprised.”
I take a deep breath, and with my sights set on the end goal, I admit, “I need your help.”
Victor chuckles again, but the sound is far from friendly. “I’ll text you Manno’s address.”
There’s another burst of rage in my chest. “You have it already?”
“Of course. Information is money, after all.”
The man’s just like his fucking father and uncle.
“How much?” I ask, knowing the price is going to be steep.
“For a friend,” Viktor lets out a deep breath, “it’s for free.”
Nothing’s for free in our world, which means he’ll call on me for help one day, and I’ll have to give it, no questions asked.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“I hear you managed to find a husband for your stepsister. Just got the wedding invitation. Short notice, though.”
“I’ll understand if you can’t make it but would appreciate it if you can find the time to attend,” I reply automatically, the rage swirling in my chest growing darker and thicker with each word.
Whenever Tess is brought up, I want to fucking lose my shit. The sooner she’s married…
My thoughts refuse to go any further.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Viktor replies.
The call ends, and Andreas lifts his eyebrows at me. “What did he say?”
“He has Manno’s address.” My phone beeps, and opening the message from Viktor, I turn the screen for Andreas to see.
A satisfied smile spreads over my friend’s face, then he takes in my scowl. “This is a good thing. Why aren’t you happy?”
Because…
“I’ll be happy when Manno’s a burning corpse,” I growl.
Andreas tilts his head, his eyes searching my face. “You know you can still call it off.”
“There’s no calling off the war,” I bark.
“The wedding, Nikolas,” he corrects me.
Narrowing my eyes at him, my voice drops dangerously low as I ask, “Why the fuck would I do that?”
Andreas stands up, shaking his head at me. “You’re stubborn. We all know that. But fuck, Nikolas, you’ve never been one to lie to yourself.”
Rising to my feet, warning darkens on my face. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Andreas locks eyes with me, not bristling before my anger. “It means you’re fucking living in denial if you think you don’t care about Tess and you can just hand her off to Christos. You’re making a mistake.” He walks to the door, and opening it, he glares back at me. “One you might regret for the rest of your life.”
“Get out!” I bark unnecessarily because the fucker’s already shutting the door behind his ass.
I slump back in my chair, and grabbing the phone, I stare at Manno’s address while doing my fucking best to ignore Andreas’ words taunting me like a haunting echo.
Manno’s not even in fucking Vancouver. The fucker’s in Toronto.
That’s fine. I’ll take this fucking war right to his doorstep. After the wedding.
The wedding.
An overpowering emotion rocks me to my core, just like yesterday, and the day before, and every other fucking day since I arranged the marriage.
Thinking of Tess becoming Christos’ wife… It must be done. For my sanity and for her safety.
This wedding will happen.
I refuse to look deeper, refuse to dissect the emotions, refuse to think of her naked body beneath another man.
The wedding has to happen. There’s no room for doubts.
You don’t even care about the woman, so fucking forget about her already.
You have more pressing matters that need your full attention.
Focus, Nikolas.
