My second and best friend flanks me as I briskly walk out the room; briefing me.

"We got a situation," he starts.

"I figured," Niccolò snorts.

"Don't be a smart ass."

"Don't give me useless euphemisms."

Niccolò shakes his head in amusement, knowing there's no need to argue with me.

"Russi and Irish teamed up," he starts again, getting to the point.

"Che cosa? Merde, I don't need this right now," I resist the urge to rub my temples, feeling my head pound.

"Gets worse. Apparently, there's a new a Queen of Chicago. And her name is Savannah Helms."

I stop in my tracks.

"Cosa hai detto?"

(What did you say?)

"Dicono che sei figa montata. Che sia una debolezza," he mutters.

I kick start my pace, heading to the garage level of the Estate.

(They say you are pussy whipped. That she is a weakness.)

"E tu? Che ne dici?"

(And you? What do you say?)

"È chiaro che sei innamorato di lei, non vedo solo come i russi ne hanno scoperto."

(It is clear you are enamoured with her, I just don't see how the Russians found out about it.)

"I have a rat?" I snarl, switching to English.

"Well you don't have a turtle."

We get into the RoadMaster, practically indestructible.

Recklessly, I swerve to my nearest club, Fiamma, Italian for Flame.

My hands itch for blood. I'm pissed.

Pissed doesn't even begin to cover it.

A fucking rat?!

That shit doesn't fly with me, when you are sworn into the Vitale Familgia, that is your last warning.

Anything after that, is fatal.

I don't fuck around with betrayal.

Because I'm crazy motherfucker, I'm tempted to just walk in there and shoot that shit up.

Just as a warning.

I don't give warnings.

Fuck warnings.

I shouldn't have to warn anybody not to cross me. If I have to warn you, I'm going shoot you.

As soon as I walk in, a hush fills the club.

That pisses me off even more. What the fuck are you hushed now?

You put my girl danger, by running your mouth now you wanna hush?

Fuck that shit.

"Can anybody explain to me how the fuck the Russians know her name?"

Silence. That shit bothers me.

"I don't hear talking. If I don't hear somebody in here talking, I'm going to make you scream like the bitches you are."

"I didn't say anything," a man steps forward. He works for me, but he wouldn't know Savannah. Only fifty people have seen Savannah with me.

"Alright, fine. Let's simplify, Sí? All members with a clearance level above 9-S, step forward."

Why are these bitches not moving?

"I'm not going to repeat myself. If I do, when you eventually step forward I'm going to put a hole in your throat, simply for making me waste my time."

Fifteen stepped forward.

Glancing over the crowd, I know that they're the only ones here.

I glance at each one of them, glaring at them long enough to make them uncomfortable.

Then, I find him.

"Giorgio, come up to the front, and tell the class how you thought this was going to go?" I smirk.

He looks like he's gonna piss his pants. Frankly, he shouldn't worry too much about his bladder.

I'm about to paint the walls with his blood.

Priorities.

"I-I didn't-"

"Surely you knew you'd get caught eventually."

He bows his head in submission.

I don't need submission.

I need for him to keep his fucking big ass mouth shut, but it's too late for that.

"I'll give you a choice, Giorgio. You can die now, or you can die later."

"Now," he says immediately.

"Later it is," I shoot his arm, bursting a blood vessel. Whole lotta blood, but he'll live.

Then, I'll kill him.

"Let this be a lesson. Woman or no Woman, I am Luciano Vitale and I don't fucking play. Games are for bambini, I'm grown, so we're not gonna do that," I glare at every one of them.

"If I hear another word about Savannah, or this little... encounter, I will hunt you down and kill you. I don't give a fūck if you're innocent, deaf and blind. I don't give a fuck about the fact you have a family. Or a wife. Or a baby."

"If you care about those people you better watch around you. Cause if I hear it, it will be hell to pay. For everyone. Capisco?"

"Sí Don,"

I motion to the moaning body on floor, telling a cleaner to get him to the basement.

Niccolò falls in line with me, as we briskly stride to the RoadMaster.

I get in the driver's seat, prepared to go home have a little chat with my Kitty.

I'm breaking speed laws, but there's not a cop in this city stupid enough to pull me over.

I'm taken by surprise when we're hit from behind, then hit from each side.

My last thought is:

Fuckin Russi.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, old friend

"Welcome back to the land of the living, old friend."

A thick Russian accent greets me.

I'm tied up, real tight too. Who tied this shit, a fuckin Boy Scout?

"See, I never liked you Abram. You're entirely too fake for my tastes."

He laughs, offering me a cigar.

I nod. It's not really my thing, but I'm on edge.

"So I hear you've got a girl," he says conversationally.

I take in his form; he's a nice looking guy, I guess. Around my age, creepy blue eyes, dark hair.

I think I'm going to take an eye out first.

"Where'd you hear that from?" I answer just as casual.

"Places. Speaking of which, I got you a present."

"Is it my birthday, darling?" I sarcastically retort.

"Look, I will bite your dick off. Like I'm not even kidding. Ask a guy named Henry Kipler. He's dīckless now. Don't be Henry Kipler," I hear her say.

Shit.

Fuck.

Merde.

Dio.

Cazzo.

"Well fuck me sideways, you actually bought me a gift."

I try to play it off, I focus on my breathing.

All that shit my therapists told me. In hindsight, maybe I should've kept him alive a little longer.

Big grey eyes meet my brown ones and widen slightly.

"Luciano?"

Shit.

I don't say anything.

If I ignore her, perhaps Abram may let her go.

Ah, who the fuck am I kidding?

"Do you know her?" He asks.

I shrug.

"What does she mean to you?"

"Nothing. She's my whore, what of it?"

I can feel her flinch.

"Oh. Well you won't mind if I just, have a go?"

I switch to Italian, then Russian but he's determined to speak in English.

He wants her to hear this conversation, and if I say nothing, he'll take it as a go ahead.

If I tell him to go to hell, he'll torture her, probably rape her, all front of me, because he'll know.

"I don't share, Russi. You know that," he smirks.

"Well played."

I smoke in silence.

Kitty just sits there calm as can be, not afraid, not even...

Here. I'm

She's probably compartmentalizing it, zoning out, placing herself somewhere else.

Only, I don't know of anyone who knows how do that unless they've been tortured on a regular basis.

"Still, you can't really do much about it," he approaches her. Still though, she doesn't even look up at him.

"Myshka, why don't we play?"

She doesn't respond.

Clenching his jaw, he lifts her head up roughly by her chin.

My blood pressure is through the roof.

That finger has got to go.

"She's stubborn isn't she," he grins at me.

His hands glide down her legs, making her head snap to his.

Her big Greg eyes are filled with tears, fear evident.

He made my baby cry.

He scared my Kitty.

He's going to sorely regret the day his whore of a mother forgot birth control.

"There we go,"

"Smetto," I order quietly.

"Oh but I'm having so much fun," he chuckled darkly, prying her legs apart.

My fingers burn, my shoulders ache, but I'm almost done.

Just hold him off a little longer my Kitty and I will get you out of here.

Just as his finger reach her core, she starts to sing. Hauntingly.

Breathlessly. I hide the shiver fighting to dance against my spine.

"Hey there little red riding hood

You sure are looking good

You're everything

a big bad wolf could want."

Disturbed, he shirks back.

"What is she doing? Stop that."

"Little red riding hood

I don't think little big girls should

Go walking

In these

Spooky old woods alone."

"Stop singing!"

"What big eyes you have

The kind of eyes that

drives wolves mad

Just to see that you don't get chased

I think I

outta walk with you for ways,"

Nearly there.

"What full lips you have

They're sure to lure

someone Bad

So until you get to grandmas place

I think you

outta walk with me and be safe,"

"Leave my grandma alone!" He cries.

I bite back a chuckle.

"I'm gonna keep my sheep suit on

Until I'm sure that you've been shown

That I be trusted walking with you alone."

She turns her attention to him, making him cower.

"Stop looking at me. Why is she looking at me?!"

"Little red riding hood

I'd like to hold you if I could

But you might thing I'm a big bad wolf so I won't."

He takes out his gun shakily, but it's too late.

I've already smashed the chair I was in across his head.

Snatching his gun, I check the chamber.

Full.

Throughout all this, she keeps singing.

Even as I untie her and hold her in my arms, rocking her, she's singing.

"You're okay, Kitty. You're okay," I kiss her forehead, feeling her fingers tighten against the lapels of my dress shirt.

Her tears soak my shirt, and I glare at Abrams unconscious body.

He actually made my baby cry!

She wraps her legs around my waist, her face buried in my neck, fingers clutch me for dear life.

I hold her, in one hand shooting my way out of the compound.

I steal a phone from some dead guy and call my third.

"Track this phone and get here yesterday."

Niccolò huffs beside me, hissing as he presses a cloth to his bullet wound

Niccolò huffs beside me, hissing as he presses a cloth to his bullet wound.

"Fuckin Russi," he spat.

But I'm not thinking of the fucking Russi. I'm thinking about what this will mean for her; my Kitty.

Every enemy I have will gun for her now; and that list is substantial.

Someone once told me, one day I'd regret making so many enemies. At the time, I thought he meant that they'd come after me.

Now I understand.

Now I have some to protect, someone I care for, I regret making so many enemies.

She'll never be safe.

She'll never be normal.

I stroke her brown hair, caress her sleeping face.

Trace her eyes, her nose, her lips.

I feel them twitch up, making me smile.

So beautiful.

I can't stop myself from pressing a small kiss on her lips.

I am weak for her...