And now she had vanished.
It all crashed around him, shaking his trust in the one woman he had trusted more than anything else.
Dante pulled his gun, aimed it at the man’s head, and shot. His finger didn’t leave the trigger, shot after shot ringing out until the gun ran out of bullets and the man’s body ran out of place.
It was time.
Time for him to take the throne.
Time for him to find MrX.
Time for his queen to come home.
Lorenzo Maroni’s countdown had begun.
Amara looked at her first client in the new city, a giant dark-haired man – and she meant giant, even bigger than Dante, who was the largest man she knew – and tried to keep her facial expression serene. Because this guy wasn’t just a giant, he was a scarred, one-eyed giant. And he had a real eye patch over his right eye. She’d never seen anyone with an eye patch.
She suddenly had flashbacks to the bodice rippers she used to read in her teenage years, of sexy, dashing pirates and damsels in distresses. He was definitely sexy, in a rough, dangerous way that as a woman Amara could appreciate.
She opened her door wider, pasted a polite smile on her face, and welcomed him into the office.
“I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place, Mr. Villanova,” she sat down on her comfortable armchair, the view outside the window lush, tropical green.
The man took a seat across her in the matching cream armchair, watching her with one eye such a light hazel it almost looked golden. She had never seen anyone with that shade of eye color either. His other eye, the one with the eye patch, had a wicked-looking scar going under it, from the side of his skull to the edge of his lip, pulling it down in a permanent half frown.
“Call me Alpha,” he spoke smoothly, his voice rough.
Amara felt her eyebrows go up at his name. Well, she’d never known an Alpha either. Seemed like this city was going to be a lot of firsts for her.
“Alpha,” Amara corrected herself. “I’m Dr. Mara Rossi. What can I do for you?”
“May I call you Mara?” he asked, looking around her medium-sized office. After selling her apartment in Shadow Port and grabbing Lulu, Amara had packed up her stuff and asked her half-sister Nerea to arrange a fake passport for her under a fake name that was close enough that she’d still recognize it, just so she could travel to a location unknown. She had ended up traveling down south to the tropical big city of Los Fortis, a place she’d researched well before for any connections to Tenebrae or the Outfit. There were none.
She needed to put her old life behind, everything except her mother, whom she still called every other day through a burner phone, swearing her to secrecy. Her mother, she knew, would keep her secret this time. And though a huge part of Amara wanted to call Vin or Tristan or Morana, she knew a clean break was for the best. Especially from Dante. They were through.
“Of course,” Amara replied to the man, focusing on him. After getting her degree and serving her clinical hours under the supervision of the University counselor, Amara had been a practicing licensed therapist for six months. And she hadn’t even advertised after moving to Los Fortis, so getting the call from this man to schedule an appointment had been a surprise.
“I’m not here for therapy, Mara,” the man told her, and suddenly, Amara felt her palms begin to sweat. His size and form, which she had appreciated a second ago, became more threatening.
She stayed calm, practicing her counting. “Then, why are you here?”
He leaned back in the chair, observing her, before speaking quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Amara swallowed but stayed silent, her heart pounding.
“I want to know who you are,” he put his hand on his chin. “You see, this is my city. I keep a very close eye on anyone who comes or goes from certain high profile locations such as Shadow Port. And this building is mine. I had your documents checked and they’re fake. A very good fake, but fake nonetheless. So, who are you, and why are you in my city?”
Amara felt her breath whoosh out of her slightly. Getting up on her feet, Amara walked on her heels to the desk in the room and took out a file from the drawer. Walking back to the man, she slowly handed it to him so he could see her degrees for himself.
“I’m not here to cause you any trouble, Alpha,” she told him, her voice raspy. “I am a licensed therapist. My name is Amara. And I’m in your city to set down roots. I like the moderate climate and the nearness to the forest. It… it reminds me of home.”
She watched him hand the file back to her without looking. “I can’t read.”
Amara felt herself flush. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, taking the file back.
He shook his head. “I’m good at reading people though. In my line of work, you have to be. Shadow Port doesn’t have any forests. Where’s your home?”
Amara cursed herself for that slip. She hesitated, but seeing his one eye considering her, she answered truthfully. “Tenebrae City.”
He nodded. “You’re a far way from home, Amara. Any particular reason?”
She took in a deep breath, walking to the window, looking out at the city line and the forest beyond it, so similar to Tenebrae except on the other side of the hemisphere.
“I’m pregnant.”
The man stayed silent on the chair for a long minute. “And the father?”
She simply shook her head. How could she explain? The years of knowing him, loving him, being loved by him, only for him to walk in one day, fuck her without a condom, and fake his death with no warning to her. She had had an alert set on her phone for his name, so if anything about him hit the internet, she got a notification. She remembered getting the notification, sitting with Lulu on her lap as she watched a movie, remembered opening her phone, remembered seeing the headline.
Heir to the Maroni empire dead in an explosion.
She remembered the cry that had left her mouth, her eyes unable to believe the news. She remembered calling Morana with shaking fingers. She remembered that he had faked his brother’s death in a fire too. The truth had dawned upon her and it had been cruel. Dante hadn’t told her, not even given her a hint, nothing to prepare her.
And she had been carrying their child already. Although it had been too soon for a test confirmation, Amara had known. Her breasts had become sensitive and she had missed her period, and Amara never missed her periods. They came like clockwork. And Lulu had started poking her nose into her stomach. She had known that day they had made a baby.
And that had changed everything.
“Well,” Alpha stood from the armchair, breaking her out of his thoughts. “In that case, Amara, you’re welcome here at Los Fortis. You and your child will be safe here.”
He pushed a hand into his jeans pocket and brought out a card, putting it on her table. “This is my contact. You have any trouble, or anyone gives you shit, you call me.”
Amara looked down at the card, a plain black piece of paper with silver embossing, and stared at him, touched by his kindness. “Thank you,” she croaked out, emotional that someone had cared enough.
Alpha nodded, walking to the door. “Is the father alive?”
Amara laughed at the irony of the question. Not knowing how to answer, since he was dead to the world at the moment, she simply told him her truth. “He and I, we are doomed to bleed from a wound that will never heal.”