"She called me," Don Vittorio murmured. His voice broke. It was the first time it had broken in years, perhaps decades, and the sound of it made Felix look away and Jake close his eyes. "Before the crash. She called me, and she sounded... terrified."
He paused. His jaw worked. The muscles in his neck tightened like steel cables.
"My precious daughter told me she was a disappointment." The words came out quiet, almost gentle, which made them infinitely more terrifying than any shout. "The bastard who made my daughter believe that. The man who treated her like she was nothing." He turned his head, just slightly, and the light caught the cold, ancient fury in his eyes. "I will make his life worse than death."
No one in the corridor doubted him.
On the other side of the city, in a penthouse suite above the Jade Quarter, Xavier Salvatore sat at his desk and felt something twist inside his chest.
It was not a thought. It was not a memory. It was a physical sensation, a sudden, inexplicable tightening behind his sternum, as though someone had reached through his ribs and squeezed. He set down his glass of bourbon and stared at the far wall, his brow furrowed.
Mia.