Rosa shifted on the bed and scowled at Cristiano.

Did she hear correctly?

The bastard was plotting to have her dispatch an ex-capo and his wife. In Sicily, no less, of all places. The fucking birthplace of Cosa Nostra.

Rosa knew her worth. She was more than competent in her line of work, but even a she-wolf with sharp fangs and killer claws like her couldn't take on a swarm of sharks if dropped into the ocean.

For one thing, she didn't speak or understand much Italian. For another, she wouldn't be in her home turf of Marseille. Not to mention, this sort of high-profile assassination would take months to prep, and time wasn't on their side. Not with Mesrine riding on their asses.

Right as Rosa was about to voice her concerns, however, Cristiano rose from the mattress, away from her, and started getting dressed.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"There is shit to be done," he grunted. "I need to find Giorgio."

She leaned over the bed to grab her clothes from the floor. "Let me come with you."

"No, stay here," Cristiano ordered as he walked away, "and learn what you can about the Vitales. I will be back. Later."

She hooked on her bra and slipped into her underwear. "What are you planning to do with Giorgio?"

"Business," he called over his shoulder.

Rosa's heart sank as she sensed the immediate shift in his demeanor. The man who had bared his soul to her moments ago and fucked her raw was no more. A strange, unfamiliar void tugged at her heart.

She protested, "Wait—"

But Cristiano was already gone. His footsteps could be heard across the living room. The front door opened and shut with an echoing wham.

She was alone in the condo.

Disappointment struck Rosa, but she wasn't surprised by the bastard's behavior. Rome wasn't built in a day. A man couldn't change within a day, either. In a way, it was almost expected. Like her, Cristiano was accustomed to operating as a lone wolf. With a sigh, Rosa decided it was time for her to get to work as well. There was no time to worry about her mon beau or his mercuriel moods.

She needed to call Harry and see what he knew about the Vitales. Rosa couldn't use her own phone, though. Otherwise, Mesrine would trace her call. Right then, securing a new phone seemed imperative. It was time to get her ass out of bed.

Within seconds, she got dressed. Rosa paired nude-colored Louboutin heels with a silky, sage green Gucci slip dress. For the pièce de résistance, she added a swipe of wine red YSL lipstick to her lips. After retrieving her trusty Beretta from her suitcase, she strapped it to a concealed holster on her thigh. She then spent another ten minutes rummaging through Cristiano's condo in search of a spare key. Once Rosa found one, she strutted out of the front door and locked it behind her.

Rosa returned to the condo about half an hour later with a cheap-ass pay-as-you-go cell phone. Upon entry, she did a routine sweep through the premises with her Beretta in hand. Each and every room proved to be as empty as she had left them. A mixture of relief and sullenness swirled in her chest.

Relief. Because no one had broken into the condo during her absence.

Sullenness. Because Cristiano was still out with Giorgio. He hadn't messaged her any updates, either. And she had texted him with her new number thirty minutes ago.

Bastard.

Rosa released a huff of frustration and tried to console herself.

No matter!

Out of sight, out of mind!

Rosa pulled out her new phone to dial up Harry's number. His end of the line rang and rang and rang with no answer. She tried once more. Unfortunately, the cranky, old hermit still didn't pick up. She left Harry a terse voicemail, demanding that he call her back as soon as possible.

Fifteen minutes later, her phone chimed. Hoping that it was Harry, Rosa glanced down at the screen, but what she saw made her swear out loud, "Oh... putain de merde."

Oh... fucking hell.

A video message notification awaited on the screen, and Harry wasn't the one who sent it.

Rosa narrowed her eyes. She had yet to respond to Mesrine's death threat. The fucker was probably fuming at this point. His ego hated being ignored. This was likely his way of letting her know that he wanted attention. With a tick of trepidation, Rosa tapped on her phone screen to play the video. She froze when the ten-second clip began to roll, and a wavy-haired, amber-eyed girl appeared on camera.

It was the same little girl from Mesrine's photographs.

Frightened tears streamed down the child's cherubic face as she bawled in French, "Maman! Maman!"

Momma! Momma!

Anxious and outraged, Rosa couldn't look away. Earlier, Mesrine's text had barely fazed her, but the effect of this video was potent and immediate. Distress coiled around Rosa's heart. Squeezing the organ like an unrelenting fist. This child was gutting her. Rosa would give anything to hear Nijah call her "maman."

Rosa felt at a complete and utter loss.

Why did this girl look so much like Nijah?

A crazed sense of hope and helplessness shot through Rosa.

Could she really be—

The video then cut away from the girl and refocused on Mesrine. Like knives, Rosa could feel his gaze cutting into her through the screen. Cold fury burned in the fucker's blue eyes, but, as always, his voice betrayed none of his rage.

He spoke to her softly, gently, "Nijah et moi prévoyons d'assister à un événement très spécial à Palerme. J'espère que vous pourrez nous rejoindre."

Nijah and I are planning to attend a very special event in Palermo. I hope you will be able to join us.

After a pause, Mesrine added, "Un de mes associés à Catanzaro vous fournira les détails très bientôt."

One of my associates in Catanzaro will deliver the details to you very soon.

Rosa's pulse skipped a beat as Mesrine's warning from that fateful cab ride ran through her mind: You cannot hide from me. My men are everywhere.

She set down her phone and chose, again, not to send him a reply. Rosa refused to give in to his tactics even though, unlike last time, Mesrine had definitely gotten under her skin with this video.

Paranoia thumped against her chest.

How many of Mesrine's moles were lurking in the shadows around them?

How many more were hiding in plain sight?

Could Evita or Clarisse be working for Mesrine?

What about... Giorgio?

Cristiano might trust the giant brute with his life, but everyone was suspect in Rosa's book. She made a mental note to always keep her Beretta loaded and within reach, at least, until they

Her phone chimed again.

Speak of the motherfucking devil.

Glancing down with a groan, Rosa read over his latest text: Knock, knock, ma moitié. You have a visitor.

Right on cue, an aggressive rattle sounded at the front door. It was followed by a loud, crashing thwack. Heavy footsteps barreled inside. She was in Cristiano's bedroom. The noise had come from the living room.

Rosa gasped, "What the hell..."

Goosebumps chilled her skin. All five of her senses came alive, switching to high alert, readying for battle. She grabbed her gun and ducked behind a corner to position herself to be on the defensive.

Soon, a masculine figure appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in all black. To her annoyance, Rosa couldn't see his face. The intruder was wearing a ski mask. His facial features were hidden. She couldn't even make out the color of his hair. Glock in hand, he entered the room with cautious steps.

Once he came close enough, she leaped out from her hiding place and kicked his gun from his grip.

The man sucked in a choked breath as she shoved the barrel of her Beretta against his temple.

Calmly, Rosa stated, "If you wish to leave with your balls intact, monsieur, then I suggest you behave and do exactly as I say."

He stayed silent.

"Who are you," she pressed in menacing tones, "and why are you here?"

Again, he failed to answer her. Rosa glared at him.

Was he staying silent out of loyalty to Mesrine?

Or some other reason?

It gave Rosa reason to suspect that this intruder was no stranger to her.

Perhaps, the man wouldn't speak because he didn't want her to recognize his voice?

Perhaps, they had already met in person?

She dragged her eyes over him. Critically. From head to toe. Upon closer inspection, his height and build reminded Rosa of Ama—

Just then, his elbow jutted into the side of her stomach, knocking the wind out of her lungs.

Rosa winced. "You asshole!"

They began to tussle for supremacy. He was bigger. Heavier. But Rosa was quicker. More calculating. He attempted to snatch her Beretta from her grasp. Every time he lunged for her, she danced out of his way, using his own weight and momentum against him to knock his body off balance. At one point, she shoved one of her stilettos into his ass.

Yelping in distress, he flipped around and landed a hard smack across her face. Pain stung her cheek. Rosa's temper flared. Suddenly, she had no interest in toying with him anymore.

She railed at him, "Enough!"

Beretta in hand, Rosa quickly aimed at his foot, pulled the trigger, and shot the masked man. The man howled in pain as blood spurted all over the floors. She didn't want to kill him yet. She still had questions that required answering.

As the man stumbled to the ground, he started crawling toward his discarded gun.

"Non, non," she admonished, "that will not do..."

Right as Rosa was about to shoot him again, two arms hands flung out from behind and ensnared both of her arms in an unrelenting, immobile grip. Rosa's eyes rounded out in shock.

Fuck!

Mesrine's text had only warned of one visitor.

Not two.

She was a fool to let her guard down. Before Rosa could formulate a counterattack, a wet cloth was slapped onto her nose and mouth. She struggled against it. To no avail. The sweet scent of chloroform hit her nostrils. Her thoughts became foggy. Her eyelids drooped. Rosa fought to keep her eyes open. She noticed something peculiar about the hand that was holding her prisoner: A long, black, skinny worm was winding its way along the knuckles.

Non, non, not a worm, Rosa mused in a muddled state, but a... snake?

The room twirled around her. She felt dizzy, nauseous, and tired all at once. So fucking tired. Rosa blinked several times. Her vision blurred one last time.

Then, the world faded away.

***

Rosa awoke on the floor of Cristiano's bedroom. She laid on the ground like a crumpled rag doll. Alone. Confused. Frightened.

Not knowing how much time had passed, Rosa gazed around in a dazed stupor. She saw only Cristiano's bed. Closet. A small dresser and desk.

The masked man was nowhere in sight.

Neither was his partner.

Across the floor, there was, however, a trail of fresh blood leading out the door. Rosa attempted to gather her thoughts despite the thick fog clouding her brain.

Had the two fuckers escaped together?

Or were they still inside the condo?

Rosa struggled to keep her wits about her. To refrain from panicking.

Where was her Beretta?

And where the hell was Cristiano when she needed him?

Ignoring the throbbing ache at her temples, Rosa pushed herself up from the ground. As she stood up, something fell from her lap. As Rosa looked down, her eyebrows flew upward.

A large black envelope now lay at her feet.

Shit.

Could this be the "delivery" Mesrine had mentioned to her?

With trembling hands, she leaned over to pick up the envelope. Rosa tore it open.

What she found inside astonished her yet again.

It was a wedding invitation.

***

Mariposa De León
&
Monte Rienzo

~ VI ANNUNCIAMO IL NOSTRO MATRIMONIO ~

Sabato 15 Giugno
17:00
Palazzo Vitale
Palermo, Italia