Chapter 2 - THE FROZEN ALLEY
The wind howled through the narrow brick canyon.
Lorenzo did not move.
His hand stayed suspended in the freezing air.
The torn wool of Amelia’s sweater fluttered in the gale.
Beneath it, the brand was raw.
Angry crimson flesh.
Blistered edges.
The serpent coiled around a downward-pointing dagger.
The iron mark of Victor Moretti.
Lorenzo’s lungs burned with freezing oxygen.
“Mia?” he whispered.
His voice broke.
The ruthless boss of the South Side sounded like a frightened boy.
“What does Victor have to do with Mia?”
Amelia pulled the torn fabric over her shoulder with shaking fingers.
She backed away until the wet brick stopped her.
Her teeth clicked together violently.
“Four hours before the ceremony,” she gasped.
“A courier came to my bridal suite.”
“He brought an envelope.”
“Inside was a live video feed of Mia walking out of her college dorm.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
His anger had vanished.
In its place was a cold, suffocating terror.
“Mia was guarded,” Lorenzo said.
“Four men were on her detail.”
“Two of them were dead in the stairwell,” Amelia choked out.
“The video showed their bodies.”
“And then Victor called the room.”
Lorenzo’s jaw clenched so hard his molars screamed.
“What did he tell you?”
Amelia looked up at him.
Tears cut clean tracks through the grime and soot on her cheeks.
“He told me to walk out.”
“He told me to leave the ring.”
“He told me to write that I never loved you.”
“Why?” Lorenzo demanded.
“Because he wanted to break you in front of the commission.”
“He wanted every family in Chicago to see you standing alone at the altar.”
“He said an abandoned boss looks weak.”
“And a weak boss is easy to replace.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
The shame that had tortured him for fourteen days shattered into dust.
She had not run because she hated him.
She had run into the freezing dark to keep his sister breathing.
“And the brand?” Lorenzo’s voice dropped into a deadly hush.
Amelia looked down at her slush-stained boots.
“Victor’s men intercepted my cab at the state line.”
“They took me to an abandoned slaughterhouse in Gary.”
“Victor heated the iron in a coal drum.”
She swallowed, a dry, rattling sound.
“He said a runaway bride needed a reminder of who owned her choices.”
“He said if I contacted you, Mia would receive the same mark across her face.”
Lorenzo felt his vision tinge with red.
The monster that lived beneath his expensive tailored coat stirred.
Fourteen days.
She had spent fourteen days starving in cheap motels and alleyways.
Freezing.
Bleeding.
Carrying the weight of his sister's life on her burned skin.
Lorenzo slipped his heavy wool coat off his broad shoulders.
He stepped into her personal space.
Amelia flinched, curling inward against the brick.
Lorenzo did not grab her.
He gently draped the thick, warm wool over her shivering frame.
The fabric smelled of his cologne, cedarwood, and clean linen.
Amelia’s knees buckled under the weight of the warmth.
Lorenzo caught her.
His strong arms hooked beneath her knees and behind her back.
He lifted her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all.
Her head fell against his collarbone.
She was so light.
Too light.
“Enzo,” she sobbed, burying her face into his throat.
“You don’t understand.”
“They’re watching the block.”
A burner phone in Amelia’s coat pocket began to vibrate.
A harsh, rhythmic buzz against Lorenzo’s chest.
Lorenzo looked down the alley.
At the mouth of the street, a black sedan idled with its headlights extinguished.
The phone buzzed a third time.
Lorenzo shifted Amelia into his left arm.
With his right hand, he reached into her pocket and pulled out the cheap plastic device.
He clicked the answer button and raised it to his ear.
A smooth, mocking voice purred through the speaker:
“Did you finish your sandwich, little runaway?”
May you like
“Because your fourteen days of freedom just expired.”
“Look toward the corner.”
