The wedding from hell was over. But Rosa had yet to escape the inferno. Mon beau was always on her mind. If there was an art to appearing utterly unaffected while enduring two of the most agonizing weeks in existence, then she was a true artiste. Like a ship refusing to sink in stormy seas, Rosa kept a smile on her face for Angelina's sake. Even though life flipped upside down the second she took the girl under her wing, Rosa refused to spiral for his sake. She had a promise to keep. Suddenly, Rosa found herself leading a double life. Guardian by day. Killer by night.

She kept herself in constant motion, building momentum to outrun the cruelty of le destin.

Fate.

Shit she couldn't change.

Emotion turned off. The void turned on. Such a shift felt quite natural. She'd existed in this state of cold detachment after Nijah's death. She felt nothing. Therefore, nothing could hurt her. Whether or not such a mindset was healthy didn't matter. It enabled her to become an unstoppable force, pure machine, focusing solely on what needed to be done, because anything short of perfection and precision would lead to death.

Her days were filled with snack breaks and naps and storytime.

Her nights were overwhelmed by tense phone calls, secret messages, and violent meetings in undisclosed locations with nefarious underworld contacts.

She vetted countless nannies and bodyguards to find the perfect matches, sparing no expenses, only the best of the best were allowed to watch over Angelina during her nightly errands. She worked tirelessly. Pulling every string. Calling in favors left and right. Strongarming, bullying, and blowing out kneecaps whenever the birds she caged refused to sing. Some of those birdies died. The loyal ones who refused to snitch. Some survived with only a few minor injuries. The smart ones who sang pretty songs. Whether they lived or died, however, Rosa made sure to extract something of value from them.

Every.

Fucking.

Time.

Because each new sliver of intel brought her closer to Vosa.

Non.

Not Vosa.

Harrison Murray.

Fucking Harry.

Through Mrs. Vitale, Rosa had also confirmed Harry's hand in this bloodbath. The old fuck's plans to wipe out everyone at the wedding through Mesrine had gone awry. Thus, he abducted Cristiano's sister for insurance. Before time ran out, she needed to pinpoint his location. Rosa needed to go after Sienna before Harry made the woman disappear again.

According to her sources, Harry and Sienna were no longer in Palermo. They were on the run, and the pair appeared to be en route to London. Admittedly, the chase was taking longer than usual. Not because Rosa lacked the resources or drive to catch her prey. Non. Even without Harry in her corner, she still possessed a decent network of reliable allies. Once more, Mrs. Vitale had been a godsend in her endeavors, providing regular updates on whatever she could dig up.

The reason why this shit was taking forever and a day was because of Angelina. It was damn near impossible to accomplish anything of significance with a three-year-old glued to her side. Ever since Angelina fell into her custody, Rosa felt as though she'd adopted a small, cranky, clingy turtle of sorts. The words slow as molasses and terribly inconvenient often came to mind. Harry had been right about one thing. Children slowed down everything. No wonder the old fuck only snatched Sienna and chose to leave Angelina behind.

No matter how migraine-inducing the girl proved to be, though, Rosa didn't doubt that she'd give her life to shield the little one from harm. Angelina might not be Nijah, but the girl's life had become hers to nurture and protect.

It was what Cris—

Non.

Not now.

She didn't want to think of him. Not if she wanted to see this task through to the bitter end. Falling down that rabbit hole right now might very well destroy her.

Setting her jaw, she chose to be strong. Her promise to him was only half fulfilled. There was more work to be done. Thus, armed with the newfound knowledge of Sienna's current travel destination, Rosa immediately purchased two one-way tickets to London. They arrived at the airport right after lunch. With Angelina's small hand tucked inside her larger one, Rosa led the girl through the terminals.

"Hurry, mon ange," Rosa grumbled, "or we will miss our flight!"

"I am going as fast as I can, Rosa!" Angelina grumbled back.

At the check-in counter, the agent smiled as she checked their passports. "Eve Davies, is it? And Angelina... Davies?"

Both passports were fakes, but they were very good fakes. Hers had been a gift from Mrs. Vitale, of course, and Angelina's had been secured through one of her contacts who worked in the counterfeit industry.

Rosa smiled back warmly. "Yes, that is us."

The agent handed back their passports. "Enjoy your trip to London."

After they walked away from the counter, Angelina glanced up at Rosa. She was frowning. "Why did that lady call you... Eve? You told me your name was Rosa."

Glancing down. Rosa smiled faintly. "Sometimes, mon ange, it is easier to get what we want by pretending to be someone else."

She found herself fixating on the girl once more. It couldn't be helped. The girl still reminded Rosa of Nijah. Her heart gave yet another pained stutter.

"What should I call you, then?"

Maman.

Rosa coughed before answering, "I suppose you can call me... Eve... while we are in London."

"Eve?"

"Oui."

Angelina studied her with a creased brow. "You do not look like an Eve. Or a Rosa."

Smart girl.

"That is because Eve and Rosa are not my names."

"What is your real name then?"

"I will tell you another day," Rosa promised with a wink.

"But not today?"

"Not today."

After they boarded the plane and settled into their seats, Angelina soon nodded off, and Rosa pulled out her phone, sighing as she scrolled through her most recent messages to Cristiano.

Angelina is with me. She is safe.

Delivered.

I could not get to Sienna in time, though. Je suis désolé.

Delivered.

But I will not rest until she is safe, too. This I promise you.

Delivered.

Hello?

Delivered.

Where are you, mon beau?

Delivered.

Have you been hurt?

Delivered.

Stop ignoring me. I beg you.

Delivered.

Answer. Now. Or die.

Delivered.

Je t'aime.

Delivered.

Je te déteste.

Delivered.

Fine. You win. Play dead all you want. But send me a sign that you are well. Please, just please, please be alive. You infuriating bastard.

Delivered.

Infuriating, indeed!

Was it so hard to pick up the fucking phone and let her know that he was still breathing?

At first, Rosa saw no need to panic. Annoyance overshadowed all other emotions. With each passing hour, his failure to reply was becoming downright disrespectful. But Rosa was willing to excuse such maddening behavior, blaming it partly on the chaos that Mesrine had unleashed. Of the unfortunate targets who'd ingested ricin at the wedding, two didn't make it even after receiving medical treatment. Dead bodies didn't disappear on their own, authorities needed to be paid off to keep shit quiet, and shaky underworld alliances from said deaths needed to be redrawn and settled. Cristiano probably had his hands full with unfucking the aftermath.

Then, days went by without a single response. Irritation morphed into concern. Then darkened with fear. One week later, her desperate calls and texts continued to be met with a chilling silence.

Delivered.

Delivered.

Delivered.

But never Read.

After checking in with Mrs. Vitale, she learned that, once the explosives were removed from the villa, Cristiano had disappeared along with Mesrine and his men. No matter how much money Rosa threw at her network of informants, no one could track him down. Cristiano had gone quiet, like a fucking ghost, after the wedding. Even now, his whereabouts remained unknown. Her man's existence became untraceable. Uncertainty haunted her day and night.

Was the bastard playing dead by choice?

Or truly dead and gone forever?

With this terrifying possibility looming over Rosa, she blocked out her worst fears and chose instead to focus on two simple tasks.

Un?

Keeping Angelina safe and happy in her custody.

Deux?

Finding Sienna.

As long as Cristiano's sister and niece required her assistance, their existence bound her to him.

I need you to go in my place.

I need you to go in my place.

I need you to go in my place.

His words kept her sane. Once she fulfilled her promise to him, surely, the bastard would have no choice but to, in turn, keep his promise to her. Cristiano had vowed to come for her. For them. Once he dispatched the pale-faced fucker.

It was raining when their plane landed in London. The cold grayness around them did nothing to lift her spirits. It felt as though the city was in mourning. But Rosa pressed on, taking Angelina to a nearby hotel. As they stepped into the lobby, the girl tripped over her own feet. Again. Poor thing looked exhausted. Rosa bit back a grimace.

Putain.

This wouldn't do.

"Would you like me to carry you?" offered Rosa.

Glancing up with wide eyes, the child nodded gratefully. "Yes, please."

Without another word, Rosa scooped up Angelina, wincing when the girl turned out to be heavier than she looked. But the minor discomfort was a small price to pay. With Angelina in her arms, they could move faster.

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open. Rosa located their room. Angelina's nanny and bodyguard were already inside, awaiting their arrival. Her nanny was named Constance Winslow, a gray-haired woman with stern, aged features and kind eyes. She came highly recommended with decades of experience watching over the children of royalty and presidents. Her bodyguard was named Ronin Yamada. He was once a member of the Yakuza. A trained killer, much like Rosa, who was proficient at drawing blood and ending lives. With or without a weapon in hand.

Amber eyes gleamed with violence. "Keep my little angel safe. Or else."

"I will not let anything happen to her," promised Ronin.

Rosa's expression softened slightly. "If I do not return in the morning, you both remember what to do?"

Constance nodded. "We'll take the girl out of the country and care for her."

"Until Mrs. Vitale can find her a new home," finished Ronin.

At this, Angelina's eyes grew wide. "Are you not coming back?"

A faint smile curved Rosa's lips. "Do not worry, mon ange. Madame Winslow and Monseiur Yamada will keep you safe. No matter what happens."

"Are you going to kill Papa tonight?"

"Not yet," Rosa answered honestly, "but he will be a dead man once I find him."

She planned to gift the fucker a slow and painful death. Unless, of course, Cristiano already beat her to the punch. Last time she checked, Mesrine had a broken wrist and a bloody stump for a foot. If Cristiano hadn't put him out of his misery yet, perhaps, he'd bled to death by now.

"Are you going after Père Noël then?"

"Oui."

"He has Maman."

"That is why I must go."

Tears welled in the little girl's eyes. "Please do not let Père Noël kill you. Or Maman. I-I am starting to like you. Very much."

An unexpected sting hit the back of Rosa's eyes as well. She swallowed, not wanting to lie to the girl if shit went south. "I like you, too, and I will try not to die so I can bring your mother back safely."

The child wailed and ran over to embrace Rosa, clinging tightly to her legs. "I am scared. Please do not go!"

Bending down, Rosa hugged her back, fighting tears of her own. Gazing into the girl's eyes, she urged gently, "Be brave, mon ange. We must never let fear stop us from protecting the ones we love. If I do not kill them, you and your mother will never find peace."

Angelina stamped her little foot. "Non! I want to come, too, let me help you kill the bad man! Please?"

"It is not safe. You must stay here. Your mother will be angry with me if I let anything happen to you."

The girl frowned. "Well, I suppose I do not want Maman to be cross with you."

"Exactly. Now, go to sleep. It is past your bedtime.""

Angelina relented with a scowl. "Very well. I will go to sleep."

Rosa smiled faintly. "Sweet dreams, Angelina. I will come back as soon as I can."

Constance hurried over to get Angelina ready for bed. Armed and ready, Ronin stood by the door like a soldier at war. With one last lingering look over her shoulder, Rosa then turned away. She stepped out of the hotel room, exited through the main lobby, and hailed a taxi on the curb. They started driving toward Highgate. The address was familiar to her. She'd been there multiple times. The house belonged to Harry, and he'd used it often as a rendezvous point with his associates and clients.

As they moved through the city toward the suburbs, she kept glancing at her phone. Anxiety ticked away. Hope died a little more. Nothing had changed. As expected, every single one of her texts to Cristiano remained Delivered but not Read. The man was still as silent as a fucking ghost.

Roaa tried not to let it faze her as the distance between her and Harry grew smaller and smaller with each passing minute. Her Beretta was locked and loaded. Blood was bound to stain the walls tonight.

An hour later, they pulled into a small, unassuming neighborhood of quaint houses. After paying the driver and stepped out, she switched her phone to silent mode. No sense in having it buzz or chime in enemy territory. Like a phantom, Rosa moved toward the back gate and climbed over the wall, wincing as the rough stone scraped her palms. She swung herself over the barrier. Rosa remembered the layout of Harry's property. This particular entry point was the only angle where Harry's security cameras wouldn't spot her.

With cat-like grace, Rosa landed in the yard with a faint thud. Leaves crunched beneath her feet. She crept toward one of the windows and peered inside. Her heart quickened with anxiety. She saw the back of a man's head come into view. His hair was white as snow. No sign of Sienna, though. 

What if she wasn't here? 

Merda. Rosa tried not to panic. The woman could very easily be in one of the other rooms. 

Rosa needed to disable Harry's security systems before searching the premises. But she was also wary of poking the bear too soon and notifying him of her presence once his cameras went black. With a furrowed brow, Rosa studied her surroundings with a shrewd gaze. 

Would it be possible to sneak inside without triggering the alarms? 

Right as she was in the thick of contemplating her next move, a silent notification lit up her phone. It was from Mrs. Vitale. But the phone was in Rosa's pocket, and she was too engrossed in her present task to check it. Thus, the text was left on Read.

He is dead.

***

Dun, dun, DUN!

I'm so tempted to switch POVs in the final chapters because I feel like there's more layers of the story you guys NEED to see! Let me think about how to do this without messing with the current flow of Rosa's POV. Not sure if I'll go ahead with it yet. Hmm. I may rewrite the whole book in dual POV down the line. We'll see if I'm masochistic enough to do it, lol...

Anywho, thank you so much for your immense patience while I went MIA, prepping Diavolo for publishing. For those you who might be interested in checking it out, Diavolo features Mr. and Mrs. Vitale as the main couple. Elyse and Alessandro made small cameos in Rosa, and their story will be launching on Nov. 15th in eBook, paperback, and Kindle Unlimited. 

Pro Tip: Amazon is always doing promos for Kindle Unlimited. If you sign up for a free trial and remember to cancel before your subscription fee kicks in, you can technically read Diavolo for free! ;)

I'm hoping to wrap up Rosa by the end of November, and then I'll get ready to publish it in Fall 2025 after some heavy revisions, so please read the OG version here while you can! 

Much love to you all! <3