Hot, sizzling terror travels through my veins. The command and danger his voice reeks of make my blood skitter.
A single breath slips out silently when a metallic, blunt object is pressed to my side—the chill seeping through the satin, straight to my skin.
"Start talking, unless you want your guts blown out. Right here. Right now."
A sharp tingle rings through my ear, the fine hairs on my skin standing on edge.
His aura—dangerously close. Heavy. Ominous.
Put it together, Poppy!
Saliva slides down my throat as I retract my hands, splaying them flat while I slowly spin around.
The cold metal at my rib doesn't loosen as my gaze collides with the darkest green I've ever seen.
A green too familiar to forget.
Heat surges beneath my skin. An erratic pounding echoes in my chest. My pupils dilate, stunned by the figure blocking my path.
My vision swirls, but I anchor my feet, refusing to give in to the avalanche of emotions crashing over me.
Memories I buried surge back, rearing their ugly heads like talons scraping against flesh.
I need to pull myself together. Or I won't get out alive.
"Mission abort, Poppy! Now!" Adrian's desperate yell buzzes in my ear.
Too late.
"Ahh," I begin, plastering on a saccharine smile, my eyes flicking toward the weapon at my rib. "Seems I missed my way."
He's silent. Watching. Assessing.
He doesn't buy it.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The snap of a bullet sliding into place makes me flinch. My eyes squeeze shut before I peel them open again.
"I'm sorry for trespassing… like I said, I missed my way." I flash a sheepish smile, forcing it steady as I meet his gaze.
"My curiosity is seriously going to land me in trouble one day," a soft chuckle slips from my lips. "It's my first time being invited to the Giordano mansion, and I couldn't help myself. I just wanted to explore it."
Silence.
Dreadful silence settles between us.
His face is a wall of mystery wrapped in apathy. The only proof he's alive is the steady pressure of the gun and the dark glint in his eyes beneath the dim light.
"I'm not going to ask you again."
His head tilts slightly, the low growl in his voice drawing a shiver from me.
Fine.
"I—I, ah…" I clear my throat, my mind racing for a way out. The chill in his gaze does nothing to help.
'Think, Poppy. Think.'
My frantic heartbeat is my greatest enemy.
Last night flashes through my mind—Greg and I combing through the guest list Angelo got his hands on.
A long list of the Giordanos' allies and acquaintances.
Dragging my tongue over my lower lip, I lift my gaze. "I'm the last daughter of Galo Montagna," I say, oozing confidence so convincing I almost believe it.
His expression doesn't waver. His eyes bore into mine—then deeper, like he's peeling beneath my mask.
"Galo Montagna," he repeats, a chilling undertone lacing the name.
My pulse spikes.
His eyes narrow—the first real movement I've seen.
A yelp escapes when he presses the gun harder into my side. He steps closer.
I have nowhere to go.
"What, then, is your father planning?" His expression turns lethal.
"I… what do you mean?" I blink, praying I haven't signed my own death warrant.
His sharp brows arch as he lowers his head toward mine. My spine stiffens, sweat pooling at my lower back.
Cool breath brushes the shell of my ear. "Your old prick of a father doesn't let his daughters out of his sight."
From the corner of my eye, I see him angle his head, assessing me—his mouth still dangerously close to my neck.
Dangerous how, I don't know.
But the violent pounding in my chest labels it unmistakably as a threat.
"Not even out of his home." The corner of his lips tugs lopsidedly. "But here you are."
The icy brush of his breath skims my neck, raising goosebumps as his gaze drags over me.
I hate those eyes.
One look and every emotion I fight to suppress detonates—bursting through my head like fireworks. Like an explosion ricocheting through my chest.
I can't let this fall apart. I can't jeopardize everything Greg and the boys worked for.
Horror slams into me when my gaze flicks sideways—catching long fingers reaching for the thin film masking my face.
Too late!
The red mask slips free as it's snatched away with infuriating calm.
Terror steals my breath. My stomach drops.
The ominous grin curling his lips—heralding my doom—is the last thing I see.
Darkness crashes down around us, plunging us into a blind battle.
Then—silence.
I seize the moment, driving my elbow into his torso, wincing at the solid wall of muscle beneath my strike.
The small slip earns me space—the gun shifts away. I take the chance, hiking up my dress, placing my faith in years of training as I move through the dark.
Until rapid gunshots tear through the air—
—and screams follow.