Mother halted. “Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I overhear things. It’s the truth, though, right?”

“New York is a difficult topic. I haven’t been there in a very long time.”

There was longing in her voice. I opened my mouth to ask her about it when a bang sounded downstairs, then men were screaming.

“We need to hide,” Mother whispered as she dragged Talia toward the master bedroom. I was about to go after them when steps thundered up the staircase. I quickly pushed into the closest room, Talia’s, and hid in her overcrowded closet. There was a pile of discarded clothes on the floor, and I used it to conceal myself even more. I could still see most of the room through the slits in the door, but with only the dim light from the corridor spilling in, it was difficult to make out much. I’d barely had time to crouch down and become still before the door was flung open. My heart pounded wildly in my chest. Someone staggered in. For a moment, light hit the man’s face and I recognized him as one of the Russians. He was bleeding from a wound in his arm. He moved toward the window. Was he going to jump? He tried to push the window up, but it got stuck because of his frantic movements.

I held my breath and buried myself deeper into the heap of clothes. Another man, much taller and more muscled than the first, stalked in and grabbed the Russian. Everything happened too fast to see much, but something seemed familiar about the second man. There was a short struggle. The Russian pulled a knife, but he never got to use it. The other man grabbed him by the neck and twisted. I stifled a gasp as the Russian toppled over, collided with the door so it was pushed open all the way, and eventually dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap. Light now filled the entire center of the room. Empty, dead blue eyes stared unseeingly in my direction. Dead. Killed.

My gaze moved back up to the murderer. His back was turned to me. But I knew him. I had dreamt about him several times in the last couple of weeks since the party.

Growl, of course.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cara

His black T-shirt stuck to his skin from sweat, and his muscled arms were covered in tattoos and scars. Without the suit and cool demeanor, this man was pure danger. There was nothing controlled about him now. Everything about him screamed death. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for him to turn around and discover me. I didn’t dare move or breathe from fear of making a sound. Would he kill me as well?

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. My family’s status still had to count for something, right? No. There were Russians in our house. Russians that were supposed to take us to New York. Whatever power my family—my father had held, it was surely gone.

Growl walked out of the room without another glance at the man he killed—or at the wardrobe I was hiding in.

Only when he was gone and I didn’t hear his steps anymore did I dare to breathe. And then a new fear set in. Where was Father, and what was happening to him? And what about Mother and Talia? I had to go looking for them, even if every fiber of my body screamed at me to stay where I was. We needed to stay together, but leaving my hiding place was a huge risk. I glanced toward the dead body in the middle of the room again. Was that our fate too? Sickness crawled up my throat, but I swallowed it back. No time for weakness.

Then a more hopeful thought crossed my mind. Maybe we’d be spared. It wasn’t a surprise that soldiers of the Camorra, like Growl, killed members of the Bratva, their archenemies. Maybe there was a way we could convince everyone that the Russians hadn’t been here for our protection, but instead to kill us.

Screams and shots rang out below. I stiffened as I listened for a familiar voice, Father’s voice, but it wasn’t among the screams, and neither were Talia’s or Mother’s. They were probably still hiding in the master bedroom.

I closed my eyes. I wasn’t used to this world, even though I’d grown up around people who were part of it. I’d always only brushed the edges of the nastiness my father was involved in. Now that I was thrown in headfirst, I wasn’t sure how to act. Waiting like a mouse in a trap wasn’t the solution, though. At some point, they’d search the rooms properly, and I didn’t want to make it easy for them. I pushed to my feet and slowly opened the door, then stepped outside. Although I knew better, I crouched beside the Russian and pressed my fingers against his throat. He was still warm but there was no pulse. I considered doing CPR, but then I noticed the way his neck was twisted and shoved away.

A violent shudder overwhelmed my body and for a moment I was sure I was going to have a panic attack, but the sound of voices brought me back to reality. I stood, my gaze falling on the knife the Russian had dropped during his struggle. I was about to take it when the words of the self-defense instructor who had given a weekend seminar at our school popped into my mind: “A weapon you can’t control is another advantage for your enemy.”

I had no doubt that I’d be disarmed in no time. I’d never learned how to fight with weapons, or to fight at all. My friends and I hadn’t taken the self-defense seminar very seriously. Now I wished I had. But we’d been so busy ogling our instructor that we hadn’t had time for anything else. Indecisiveness kept me rooted.

A high-pitched scream echoed through the house. Talia.

I started moving without thinking and stormed out of the room. I wasn’t sure how to help her, but I knew I needed to get to her. I didn’t get very far though. I crashed into someone, my temple colliding with a hard shoulder. My vision turned black and I staggered back, gasping. I dropped to my knees. Pain shot through my legs from the impact. After a moment, I peered up and found myself staring at the man who’d killed right in front of my eyes, the man who’d scared and fascinated me since our first encounter. He was even taller this close up, and there was a long faded scar that reached around his throat. Growl. Always Growl.

My fascination gave way to pure fear when his amber eyes met mine. He didn’t look human in that moment.

A killer, a monster; there was nothing human about his expression, or eyes, or him.

His face didn’t register recognition. It didn’t show any kind of emotion. Nothing. He grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly to my feet. My vision swam again. “Take her to the others,” he rasped. That voice, so deep and rough, sent a shiver down my back.

Another man took me by the arm and led me away. I threw another glance over my shoulder, but Growl, the man with the scar and no mercy, was gone. I hardly paid attention to my surroundings and almost fell down the stairs when my captor dragged me down them until we arrived in the living room where Father, Mother and Talia were already gathered.

Father knelt on the floor in front of Falcone, who was dressed in a pinstriped suit and a high-collared stark white shirt. Talia and Mother stood a few steps back, looking as terrified as I felt. I was pushed toward them, and Mother immediately wrapped an arm around me. The other was already holding on to Talia. I gave Mother an inquiring look, but she was watching Falcone with terrified eyes. Finally, I turned toward him as well. He’d been creepy at his party, but today he looked truly frightening.

Benedetto Falcone, Father’s boss and the head of the mafia in Las Vegas, was in our house, and the look in his eyes turned my stomach to ice. That he was in our living room was a horrible sign. It could only mean one thing: Father had messed up badly. And the way Father was sweating profusely only confirmed my worries.