THIRTY.

The warm morning breeze caresses my trembling body as Riccardo steps outside with me still in his arms. The air smells fresher out here, and the sound of Don Valentinos’ voice soothes me as he speaks with Savannah.

The screeching sound of the metal legs of the chair being dragged across the concrete ground sweeps through the outside dining area.

“What happened?” He growls, taking me from Riccardos’ arms and into his own.

“Capo, if my eyes haven’t deceived me, I believe she has been sexually assaulted.” His voice fades out.

“What do you mean by sexually assaulted? We're in a damn hotel restaurant for fuck's sake!” The anger that runs through his livid body resonates with mine, sending a chill to sliver down my spine.

“Where is he? You better fucking tell me you caught him, Riccardo, or your head will make a great trophy for my seat at The High Table.” His words are harsh, meshed with the emotion of a deadly promise based on grief.

“I did, capo. I'm about to go and drag his body u