Irrevocably Bound
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Chapter One: Novalie—Dearest Sister
The funeral of my twin sister Alessia is a macabre spectacle, a gathering of wolves in mourning black, their eyes gleaming with hunger for power. I stand at the head of the casket, my face barely masks my grief. Inside, I am a storm of emotions. Guilt, rage, and sorrow war within me, a tempest that threatens to drown me in a sea of tears. My family watches me with cold, calculating eyes, their judgment a palpable weight upon my shoulders. They see as weakness, grief as a sign of my unsuitability to lead our criminal empire. I feel their gazes like knives, slicing through my defenses, exposing my vulnerability.
When I lower my head, my long, jet-black hair cascades around me like a curtain of darkness. I close my eyes to shut out the world.
Be strong, I tell myself.
I have failed not only my parents, but Alessia as well. I am not, nor will I ever be the leader this family needs.
With a deep, resounding thud, the coffin slowly slides into the dark crypt, sealing Alessia in and away from the world. My fingers curl tightly into my palms, digging into the skin as I struggle to contain my emotions. The musty scent of earth and stone fills the air, mixing with the bitter taste of sadness in my mouth. I can feel my heart constricting with each passing moment as I watch the last remnant of Alessia disappear. This somber place holds a sense of finality and closure, yet it also feels like a gaping void that will never be filled.
Judgmental gazes bore into me, their unspoken accusations slicing deeper than any blade. They blame me for her death, and they’re right. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, if I’d just answered her call, she’d still be alive.
If I had just come home.
If I had answered when she called.
If I hadn’t been so fucking stubborn.
Gritting my teeth, I lift my chin and meet their gazes with glacial indifference. They see only what I allow: a mask of impassivity that belies the maelstrom of anguish and regret raging inside.
I can feel a heaviness in my chest, threatening to break me down. But I can’t let it happen, not here, not in front of them. The weight of their eyes, judging and pitying, is almost suffocating. My hands shake as I try to keep myself together, my breaths coming in quick gasps. This is not the place for vulnerability, not with these people who are watching my every move. So I straighten my back and force a smile, determined to hold on just a little longer.
Scenes from the past come rushing back as they pull the curtain to her tomb aside. I see Alessia’s infectious smile and hear her contagious laughter as we sit on the beach, planning our next adventure. I rub my wrist, feeling the familiar texture of our matching tattoos, a symbol of our unbreakable bond as sisters.
All gone now, ashes scattered on the winds of time.
This only fuels my determination to avenge my sister. They will all soon learn that I am strong and unwavering in my pursuit of justice for Alessia’s death.
As the funeral service comes to a close, I reluctantly nod to the attendants, signaling that it’s time for everyone to leave. But as I turn to go, I can’t help but feel conflicted about leaving the mausoleum behind. A part of me wants to stay and be near my sister’s final resting place, but another part of me just wants to escape this painful reminder of her absence. As the mourners file out, I stand there, torn between wanting to hold on and needing to move on.
As the final footsteps fade away, I slam shut the massive doors of the mausoleum, locking myself in with the suffocating darkness. And in that impenetrable void, I collapse to my knees and let out a gut-wrenching wail of despair, tears streaming down my face as I mourn for what is lost forever.
I embrace the weakness, because I will not be able to in the moments that follow.
When I rise to my feet, my resolve strengthens with each breath. Vengeance for Alessia, I tell myself, will be mine. The eyes of our enemies will burn with fear, striking them like a backhanded slap every time they hear my name.
I straighten myself out before I finally step outside into the sunshine. Uncle Vinny is waiting for me. The lines on his face deepen with concern as he takes in my appearance. I can feel the weight of his gaze as he studies me.
“You did good in there, kid,” he says, clasping my shoulder with a firm grip.
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant but feeling the tension coiled tightly within me.
“What else was I supposed to do?” I retort, my voice sharp and edged with anger. “Fall apart in front of them?”
Uncle Vinny’s expression softens, and he leans in closer, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone. “You sure showed them,” he says. “One step closer to what you want.”
“By that do you mean Callahan Burke’s death?” I ask. “How am I supposed to do that?” I ask in a low voice, making sure the conversation stays between us. “By killing Burke? You heard them yesterday. They’re acting like they don’t know anything when we all know a truth: Callahan Burke is responsible for Alessia’s death,” I begin to seethe at the mention of him. I shake my head. “I guess I’m going to have to take care of this myself.”
A sly grin spreads across Uncle Vinny’s face and his confidence only fuels my determination. “As much as I should discourage this, it would be nice to be rid of him. Cullen Burke is so weak, they’d crumble in hours.” Vinny pauses to crack his knuckles, like he’s imagining snapping Callahan’s neck. “But you know, kiddo, this isn’t Vegas. It’s not a lawless free for all like it is out there.”
“Do you really think I care?” I ask Vinny. “Even if I get caught, no one is going to throw the book at me for killing someone like Callahan. Five years maximum and I’ll be out. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a public service.”
“You’ve got enough blood on your hands, though,” Vinny chides me.
I’m miffed at the reminder that deep down inside, somewhere among my cold, dead heart, I am still human.
“Why not add more, then?” I ask with a little smirk. “I’m going to make sure Callahan pays, at no cost to me, Vinny. That’s what we need, to remind people that the Alotti family used to run this city, and we will again.”
“I don’t doubt that, Nova. You’re an Alotti. And Alottis always get what they want,” Vinny replies.
I feel a surge of adrenaline at his words, and it channels into anger as I think about all that Callahan Burke has taken from our family. My parents, who were once leaders of this family, would be disgusted by how weak we’ve become without them.
How weak I’ve become.
I settle into a sullen silence, feeling numb to the outside world.
“I believe in you, kid,” he says quietly. “But we have to play this the right way. I trust that you can do that.”
I take a deep breath and summon a grim smile. “It’s not misplaced faith,” I say with determination
Uncle Vinny’s lips curve into a humorless smile as he nods his head. “That’s my girl,” he says, proudly.
It’s all politics, a game I’m still learning to play. How can I possibly fill Alessia’s shoes? She was born to this life in a way I never was. Leading came as naturally to her as breathing. Me?
I’m not Alessia.
“Come on, kid,” Vinny tells me. “They’re going to end up waiting for us.”
Time to face the jury.
***
discuss
My defiance doesn’t help my case as I sit across from my Uncle Marco, who’s smiling at me smugly, like he knows what’s about to take place. I suddenly get the feeling I’m about to be ambushed, and I look to my Uncle Vinny for support.
“Can you fuckos shut up now?” Vinny snaps at the rest of them: my father’s capos, my uncles, the men who keep this organization going. All of them would easily bend to Alessia’s will, and instead of their glorious leader, they’re stuck with me.
Everyone quiets down, and I clear my throat.
“Right,” I say. “We’re going to discuss how to deal with this.” I pause, unable to say the words. “Sudden absence.”
“Novalie, do you really think we’re going to sit here and listen to someone who hasn’t even been in the city for the last three years?” Marco speaks up.
“Do you want to test me?” I snap back at him.
“You’re too volatile, always have been,” Marco responds. My outburst just proves his point.
“Novalie, we’re not questioning you,” my father’s prior consigliere speaks up.
I look over to him, my uncle Dante.
Dante Alotti is the equivalent of the hammer in the family. If Dante says something, everyone is likely to fall in line with him: I’m seeing that now. I watch their reactions to Dante’s words carefully.
“We’re questioning your ability to lead. This isn’t something you’ve ever wanted or attempted to know,” Dante points out. “That’s all we’re saying. You’re just as important to the family as the head of the family or as part of the family.”
“That’s not enough,” I tell Dante. “I want to see that Alessia’s legacy is honored. Do you think anyone else in this room is up to the task? Do you really think any of these men can fight for the Alotti name like I can?”
“I’m not saying you’re not a fighter, Novalie, but do you honestly want to get wrapped up in this? You can do whatever you want, the money is there, no problem,” Dante continues.
I slam my fist down on the dining room table suddenly. “It’s not about the money,” I growl at him.
“Nova,” Dante isn’t phased. “If this is about revenge, I promise you, when it comes time to put the bullet in Callahan’s head, you can do it. Right now, we can’t kill him. We’ve all talked about it, and no one sees a point in killing Callahan just yet. What’s more important? Stability or getting revenge? It’s temporary.”
I’m silenced because ultimately I can’t tell Dante, in front of all these men, that I would rather see Alessia’s murderer brought to justice, even if it causes a war.
“Cullen Burke is an idiot,” I tell Dante. “If Callahan…”
“No,” Dante cuts me off. “Not yet. Soon. Not yet.”
That’s it. The end of the discussion. At the end of the day, I am not the only Alotti. Alessia being in charge, doesn’t equate to me having that power. I have no option but to bide my time and listen to their strategy to control our territory in Alessia’s absence.
“Alek Vasilyev,” Dante whispers under his breath to me as the rest of them talk. “He’s been a thorn in our side, a real piece of shit. Used to be a low level Russian enforcer,” Dante explains to me.
“Is that your way of apologizing?” I ask Dante, glaring at him.
“Nova, no one wants to see this family succeed more than you, but to do that, sometimes you have to let go of control. The time will come,” Dante says.
Yes.
It will.
I can listen to them plan the future of my family all they want, or I can simply take action myself. Dante is right. I don’t need to have control to kill Callahan myself.
“What’s going on in there, kid?” Vinny whispers under his breath. “I see those wheels turning. I know what you’re thinking, Novalie, and I’m warning you, don’t do it.”
“Do what?” I whisper back innocently.
Vinny shakes his head, not wanting to push the issue further because we aren’t exactly in private company. I know what he’s thinking, that killing Callahan is a bad idea.
What is it Vinny always tells me?
Not to let my rage get the best of me?
Desperate times, I think to myself.
Alessia is gone.
Evan is gone.
My parents?
Dead.
Everything I touch turns to dust, apparently.
“Okay,” I say the words out loud. “Dante, I’ll only agree to this if you take charge. I know my father wouldn’t want anyone else.”
“Of course,” my Uncle Dante nods, the unspoken agreement of our understood trust permeates the air. His best interests align with mine: we both want to see this family flourish. I don’t care who’s sitting at the head of the family. What I do care about is that we get there at all.
In the meantime, nothing is stopping me from taking care of Callahan myself.
The meeting adjourns quickly after that, and I rush to my room. I look in the mirror at the sad, sad woman in front of me and cluck my tongue in disgust. There are women who always wear makeup, and I’m not one of them. Right now, though, what I’m planning requires me to look absolutely dynamite.
Under the cover of my sharp cat eye, I am not a weak woman. Instead, I’m the one in charge.
Next I go through the boxes of my clothes, rummaging until I find an expensive strappy black dress I haven’t worn yet, tags still on it and all. Then, I look in the mirror. It reads too call-girl to me. No. Callahan is much more complex than whore-d’ujore here.
For some reason, I feel like I have to be a little more elegant than that. Not that I’ve ever been one to trust my intuition, but the next dress I pick up is a gorgeous black wrap number in soft jersey fabric. No, too plain. I consider a few more options, wondering if maybe I also want to look good for Alessia in some strange way. Commanding attention is what I do best, anyway.
Alessia would expect nothing less than me to strut into her wake like I own the place.
Then, I spy the dress. A little Dolce & Gabbana number that is sure to turn heads, including Callahan’s. From what I know, he’s not easily fooled, and he has an icy demeanor. I can’t imagine him being the type of man to even entertain a call-girl, but this plan is my best shot.
This heavily beaded number is obviously couture, and one of a kind. Technically, it is black, but the beading makes it anything but funeral garb. Gold beading and large crystals adorn the dress, the beading accenting how small my waist is. I pair it with a pair of kneehigh Balmain boots. The gold hardware even accents the beading on the dress.
Perfect.
When I slip back into the wake, I realize I’m going to have to bide my time before I can really disappear.
“There she is, Novalie, you look gorgeous,” my aunt Mary, Vinny’s wife, tells me. “Nova, Luca D’Angelo is here. You know, the man is smitten with you.”
I smile politely. “Right,” I say.
Mary waves a hand at me. “This one is so stubborn. I told her already, marry a man that adores you more than you care about him. She could have her pick and be married in a month.”
“Mary, stop bothering her,” my cousin Charlie chides his mother. “You want her to end up like Burke?” he raises an eyebrow at her.
“What about Burke?” I ask curiously.
“He’s getting married to Maeve Ryerson,” Charlie tells me. “I think it’s today, actually. Anyway, remember Oisin? The one that used to hang out with Cullen Burke? He comes around the bar sometimes?”
“Yeah,” I tell Charlie. “Vaguely.”
“Well, Oisin got ragingly drunk the other night and started bashing Callahan, saying that he was an idiot for the way he treats Maeve. Bitching about their marriage arrangement. Saying that Callahan was a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Sure as fuck sounded like a loveless marriage to me.”
“She’s probably banging Oisin,” I tell Charlie. “Drunks don’t lie.”
Charlie laughs. “Oisin? Wouldn’t put it past him. Besides, he won’t fuck her, apparently.”
“Who?” I ask, suddenly keenly interested.
“Callahan. Isn’t that fucked up?” Charlie asks.
“What else did Oisin say?” I prod further.
“Callahan Burke sounds like a cold mother-fucker if you ask me. Remember that gas attack?”
“Killed like a hundred people, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, in that office building… where Alicia Vasilyev just happened to be,” Charlie nods. “Apparently he was behind that.”
I’m not one to flinch at losing an extra life, hell I’ve made my share of mistakes even. But all those people for one person?
Charlie is satisfied with my speechlessness. “That’s probably why they don’t want you going after the bastard.”
“Charlie, I am fucking prolific. I think I can handle taking out Callahan Burke,” I whisper.
“I know you can,” Charlie replies. He looks around the room covertly. “He’s getting married at the Central Park Boathouse, you know.”
Charlie wants to see Callahan dead as much as I do, especially as Alessia’s prior personal security.
“Give me a good ten minutes to get away?” I ask.
“I’ll distract them,” Charlie nods before he hands me the keys to his car. “Don’t fuck up my car like last time.”
“I won’t fuck up your baby, Charlie,” I promise.
Can’t promise that Callahan Burke will see the rest of his wedding day, though.
Chapter Two: Callahan—If I Had
My palms grow clammy as I pace the length of the hallway, a tumult of emotions warring inside me. In a few hours, I’ll be standing at the altar, pledging my eternal devotion to Maeve in front of God and our families. I’ve followed the orderly path laid out for me at the promise of fulfillment.
Not only is our family taking on more territory than ever before, we’ve almost got the upper hand over Alek Vasilyev. There’s nothing a man could want otherwise in my position.
So why does the thought of this marriage fill me with dread?
When I open the door to my room, my breath hitches at the sight of her—raven hair cascading over pale, flawless skin and icy blue eyes glinting with wicked amusement. She’s sin and temptation embodied; this stranger. She leans on one of the bed posters for a moment, her lips pursed in a sexy way. “Callahan Burke,” she drawls my name from her lips, and I’m hypnotized by the sound of her voice.
“What’s the meaning of this, then?” I question immediately, my hand going to my gun, tucked into its holster.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Callahan,” she purrs, sauntering towards me. Every line of her lithe body screams danger, yet I find myself rooted in place, captivated by her audacity. “Oisin didn’t tell me you were so…” she pauses. Her eyes scan up and down me for a moment before she truly looks at me.
I swallow hard, a flash of heat pooling in my groin. Sex has only ever been a weapon to be wielded in my competent hands. Succumbing to my inner base desires is not on the menu. The only reason I’ve indulged Maeve is simply to keep her happy and off my back.
I’ve never strayed from Maeve, but this woman awakens a primal hunger in me I can barely restrain. She makes me acutely aware that I do not enjoy sex with the woman I’m about to marry, and suddenly the question of what more could be out there blooms between us.
Maeve is attractive, and our chemistry is enough to get me going.
But this?
This need feels raw.
Oisin has several kids with different women, all because he can’t keep it in his pants. This is something I don’t get because I’ve never felt the need to be so fucking irresponsible. Sanity has always prevailed. I’ve always worn this like a badge of honor, the ability to control myself…
The woman standing in front of me?
She tears that badge to shreds.
“Who are ye’?” My voice emerges as a low rasp. I clear my throat, willing away the dryness.
A Cheshire grin spreads across her red lips as she crowds into my space, trailing a finger down my chest. “Does it matter?”
I clench my jaw, my knuckles whitening at the effort to still my hands; to not reach for her.
No one touches me. Not even Maeve. She knows I detest any single display of affection and fears the instant recoil. So, why don’t I recoil now? Why do I allow this woman to not only touch me but crowd into my precious personal space? Not only that, I lean into her touch.
WHY?
Because this woman’s touch ignites a blaze inside me.
“It does if ye’ expect to leave this room alive,” I retort.
She laughs, a smoky sound that curls around my senses. “Threatening your wedding gift? Not very gracious of you.” Her palm slides lower, sending a jolt of electricity through me. “Oisin sent me, thinking you just might need an early gift.”
“He sent ye’ then?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
It sounds like Oisin, though.
She hovers slightly closer, and my veins burn with the blood pumping through me viciously. This woman gives a rise to my cock that I can’t control.
Fuck.
This is what I get for restraining myself.
Cullen always joked that if I didn’t let the beast feed once in a while I would eventually just implode and loose total control. Is this what that feels like?
I suck in a sharp breath. This is wrong. I’m getting married today, goddammit.
Yet, I’m helpless against this insidious attraction clawing at my insides.
“Interested?” she whispers, her fingertips grazing my cheek for a moment.
Again, I don’t flinch when she touches me. Instead, I let the heat of her touch burn my skin. A flurry of fire feels like it’s coursing through my veins, and I am ragingly hard.
Who is this woman, and why do I feel like she threatens to undo everything I’ve built?
I stare down at her, warring with myself. “What game are ye’ playing?”
“No games.” She rises on her tiptoes, breath feathering over my lips. “Just a chance for you to satisfy your deepest desires before you willingly tie yourself down to an empty life.” The venom in her words stings and I tense up, ready to defend myself. But she sees right through me, her piercing gaze cutting through every facade I’ve built.
I stiffen at her implication. “Ye’ know nothing about my relationship.”
“Don’t I?” She arches a delicate brow. “The tension rolling off you in waves speaks volumes. You’re afraid of the path you’re about to embark on. You crave an escape.” Her palm slides over my chest, leaving flames in its wake. “I can give you that escape… if only for a short time. You think you know what you want,” she taunts, her hand sliding down my chest like a brand leaving behind a trail of fire. “But deep down, you’re yearning for something else… something wild and reckless.” She leans in even closer, our bodies almost touching.
Who is she to me? No one. She’s just a means to satiate this sudden hunger.
A small gasp escapes her lips when I finally pull her against me, grabbing both her arms roughly. I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp. She tastes of sin and salvation, and I drown in the dizzying sensation, all rationale fleeing.
Her hands snake up my chest, tangling in my hair, as she deepens the kiss. A growl rumbles in my chest at her boldness, at how she matches me stroke for stroke. She throws herself into the kiss as I grip her waist hard, pressing her against me like I’ll never let go.
Maeve.
I break away with a gasp, chest heaving. This is madness. “Ye’ should go.” I stare at a spot over her shoulder, afraid to meet her gaze. Afraid she’ll see the truth I’m struggling to deny. “Now.”
I rake a hand through my hair, gripped by panic. In a matter of minutes, my entire world is upended.
Maeve. I’m meant to marry Maeve today. The woman I chose to stand by my side to rule this empire with me. Guilt claws at my insides, but beneath it lies a darker emotion. Excitement. The memory of that kiss plays on loop; her taste and scent lingering. I can still feel the imprint of her hands on my chest, the press of her body against mine. That rush of feeling overshadows any guilt I feel for betraying Maeve.
Christ, what’s wrong with me?
I’ve never wanted a woman like this before, never felt this kind of raw hunger.
My body is alight with a very primal urge to pin her down and roughly fuck her until she begs me to drain my balls inside her.
I’ve never fucking had these thoughts before… this weakness…
Not until today.
Not until her.
“Can you deny that you want me?” she asks, blinking innocently. The way her lower lip juts out slightly and her eyes widen makes me want to give her the answer I know she craves.
I should lie.
But I can’t.
I’m desperate to lose myself in her again, consequences be damned. This woman is a disease, infecting my blood, and I crave the delirium.
“Do you really want me to leave?” She asks innocently.
“I’ve never cheated on Maeve, and I don’t intend to now,” I tell her.
“But you want to,” her gaze bores into mine, seeing too much. “You’re hesitating. Why are you marrying her if you don’t want to? You say no, but you’re still holding onto me.”
Her question hits me like a blow to the chest. I resent her for voicing the truth I don’t want to face. “It’s none of yer concern.”
“Isn’t it? You can lie to yourself, Callahan, but not to me. I see the truth in your eyes. You don’t love her,” she whispers.
“And what would ye know of love?” I snap.
A bitter smile curves her lips. “More than you, it seems. Marrying for duty instead of desire always ends in heartbreak.” Her eyes gleam with mockery and challenge. “Are you man enough to admit the truth, or will you hide behind the pretense of what’s expected?”
“Watch yer tongue,” I warn as anger boils in my veins. How dare she question me?
She’s so close her scent is drugging my senses. “Or what? Will you punish me for speaking the truth you’re too cowardly to face?”
She’s goading me, I realize, deliberately provoking my temper. And damned if it’s not working.
“Get out,” I snarl. “Before I do something, I regret.”
“Not until you admit why you’re really marrying Maeve.” Her eyes flash, icy blue flames. “Say it, Callahan. The truth.”
The truth. I stare at her mutely, loathing and longing warring within me. How did she worm her way under my skin so quickly?
I know then, with stark and sudden clarity, that this woman will be my undoing.
“Ye have no right to question me. No right to judge.” my voice burns with venom and desire at the same time, almost like a rumble.
She doesn’t even flinch. “And you have no right to lie to yourself. To betray the woman you claim to love.”
“Love has nothing to do with it,” I snarl.
It’s suddenly all too clear that I’ve revealed my cards.
Duty. Honor. Responsibility. The bedrock of my world, now crumbling beneath this woman’s assault.
“Coward. What’s the motive in arranging a marriage without love? Just for business then? Maybe just because you want to further your empire?” She asks. Then she steps away from me, out of my grasp, contempt etched into every line of her face. “You’re marrying out of obligation, not love. When are you going to stop lying to yourself and everyone around you?”
She’s wedged herself under my skin, exposing raw and bloody truths I don’t want to face. “Get out. Now.”
“Not until you admit the truth.” Her eyes gleam like cut sapphires. “You’re afraid to face what you really want. What Callahan truly wants.”
What I want. The words echo through my mind as I stare at her. This woman, who entered my life like a whirlwind, chaos in her wake.
I want her.
In a way I’ve wanted no one before.
The realization guts me, laying my deepest fears bare.
“Well?” she demands softly. “Have I finally pierced that thick skull of yours?”
I surge forward and crush my mouth to hers, pulling her against me with a violent jolt.
She stiffens against me for a heartbeat, then melts into the kiss with a moan. Her lips part, an invitation I eagerly accept. I plunge my tongue into her mouth, tasting defiance and desire.
This mystery woman’s lips melt against mine and I can feel her pushing my jacket down my arms. With one swift move, I dump the jacket. Then I grip her waist and pin her down against the bed, without hesitation. The hem of her dress immediately rises around her thighs as her legs wrap around my waist. I can’t help but press my hips against hers, rubbing the outline of my cock against her panties.
Her gasp is one of the most satisfying sounds I’ve ever heard. A shocked sound laced with desire, and beyond that, the hum of a moan that permeates my brain. In one split second, my brain has formed a memory that I will never be able to forget.
This moment will forever haunt me like a plague.
The sweet taste of her lips combines with the sour, as something leaves me breathless. For a moment, I have no idea what’s actually happened and I’m gasping.
A sharp pain lances through my side. I jerk back with a hiss, glancing down to find a knife hilt protruding from under my ribcage. Crimson blossoms across my white shirt, dripping onto the bed between us. My blood is everywhere, including on her,
My gaze lifts to find her regarding me with cold satisfaction. All traces of passion wiped away. “You should have listened to me, Callahan.” She twists the knife before yanking it free.
Betrayal agonizes the scream that erupts from my lips. It’s not the blinding pain that hits me, but the shock of the moment. The way everything I was feeling has evaporated. I mourn for those few moments as I stagger back.
When I clutch my wound my hands are coated in blood. She pushes me back, and I stagger backwards off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud as I grunt in pain.. The metallic scent of blood fills my senses as I watch her stride across the room.
“Callahan!” Cullen, my younger brother, calls through the door, pounding on it. “Are you ok!”
She glares at the door before she takes her knife and bounds towards the window, ready to make a daring escape.
“If only you’d been smarter, Callahan,” A grim promise lingers in her tone. “Take this as a message- the Alotti family will rise. You may have been able to finish Alessia, but you will never rid yourself of me.”
Novalie Alotti. It dawns on me quickly who she is. I didn’t recognize her without the blonde hair.
The haze of desire and fascination evaporates, leaving behind a bitterness that coats my tongue. How could I have been so foolish? So blind?
She played me like a damned fiddle, preying on my doubts and weaknesses. I fell for her act hook, line and sinker, too distracted by her beauty and boldness to see the predator lurking beneath.
My fists clench at my sides, knuckles straining against the skin. If I ever see her again, I’ll wrap my hands around that swan-like neck and squeeze until the life leaves her eyes.
I release a sharp breath, wincing at the spike of pain the action elicits. No, violence won’t undo the damage. But when she comes for me again, as I’m sure she will, I’ll be ready.
I won’t underestimate her again.
“Callahan!” Cullen screams, trying to wrench open the door.
She must’ve locked it.
Novalie has marked me in more ways than one. I press a hand to my wounded side, feeling the lifeblood seep between my fingers. And yet, I can’t bring myself to hate her. If anything, I admire her audacity. Her ruthlessness.
Nova gives me one final wink before she disappears out the window, disappearing into the park as Cullen finally busts the door open.
“Help!” he calls down the hall. “Get help! Callahan! Callahan are you okay?”
Cullen is shaking me but I’m too far removed from reality to respond.
I’ve finally met my match.
The thought brings a pained smile to my lips as darkness crowds the edges of my vision. Through the dimming haze, a single promise takes shape: I will find Novalie Alotti again.
The room blurs and spins around me, shadows lengthening as my breaths come in short, ragged gasps.
One thing is clear: she’s dangerous. Ruthless, cunning, and unafraid to shed blood. Qualities I respect, if not for the fact she nearly took my life. I’ve made enemies. That much is true. Rivals and traitors alike would celebrate my demise. Yet none have dared attack so boldly, and with such flair.
Before darkness claims me, a single thought surfaces: Novalie Alotti’s lips.