Page 77 of Fatal Sloth

Nausea hits me out of nowhere, and I barely make it to the ensuite before I double over, retching into the toilet. The bile rises in my throat, burning my throat as it spills out of me.

I'm not sure how long I have been hunched over the toilet, when Nico eventually finds me on the bathroom floor, his soft tone cutting through the haze of nausea.

"Hey," he says softly, crouching beside me. He offers me a cold bottle of water, and I accept it gratefully, gulping it down to soothe my burning throat. "We have to leave," Nico's voice breaks through the fog of nausea, and I struggle to focus on his words.

Can I make it downstairs?

I shake my head weakly, feeling utterly drained. It's not like I have an off button, but if he insists on me getting up, I hope I throw up in his stupid, expensive car.

Before I can gather my strength to respond, Roman barges into the bathroom, his tone harsh and commanding. "We have to leave now," he barks, and the sound sends a chill down my spine. This isn't the Roman I know—the one I shared early morning pancake breakfasts with or the one who would bring me ginger ale when I was sick.

This Roman sounds like a monster.

I hover over the porcelain toilet, my stomach heaving with another wave of nausea. Roman reaches down to grab my arm.

But before his fingers can touch me, Nico jumps in front of him, his gun pointed right between Roman's eyes. The sight makes me vomit again, the bile rising up in my throat.

"I told you not to fucking touch her!" Nico's voice reverberates through the small room, his anger coming off in waves.

Roman raises both hands in surrender. "Bring the bin so she can puke in the car. We have to leave, now," Roman says more calmly before striding out of the room.

I can't shake the unease creeping up my spine. So, I try to focus on clutching the bin tightly in my arms. It also works as a shield to hide the blade tucked up my sleeve.

The whole car ride is uncomfortably silent. But it’s not like there is a lot to talk about. Any question that I ask is either ignored or answered with a cryptic reply.

Finally, the car comes to a stop at the docks, a place I'm familiar with, but parked in front of what seems to be an abandoned warehouse tucked away behind the main building. It's a building I’ve never been before. It's hidden out of plain sight from both the main road and the water.

Nico offers his hand, but I wave him off, feeling like a stubborn toddler insisting on doing things myself. I shuffle out of the car. He's like a hovering parent, guiding me inside with a light touch on my back. When we step into the building, I freeze. It looks worse inside than it does on the outside. This place looks like it will crumble at any second. The walls are corroded with so much rust that it seems to seep into every inch of the building, and the air reeks of mold. This can’t be safe for anyone to breathe in, let alone my baby.

I shoot Nico a look, and he just shrugs like it’s another day in the office. I can't help but chuckle nervously. "Well, at least it's got character," I mutter under my breath, walking up a small flight of stairs.

The warehouse isn’t a huge place, but being up high gives the advantage of seeing who is coming in or out.

The sound of metal scraping against the floor echoes in the empty building, as it makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

"Sit," Roman commands, his voice cold and hollow.

I comply, taking a seat on the chair with Roman standing behind me. Nico walks off out of sight, and Rinna stands on the other side of me, facing the front door, like we're waiting for someone to barge through the front door.

43

Sebastiano

The minutes drag on like hours since the first text hit my phone. After, there was just cold silence, like the calm before the storm. But I'm not sitting on my ass and waiting for those assholes to make their move. I've rallied my best men, the ones who'd walk through hell for me, to help me save my woman and baby.

I should've fucking seen it coming. All the signs were there, right in front of my face. But I was too wrapped up in my own bullshit, too blind to see the resentment brewing within him.

And now, it's too late.

The room is tense, every damn eye on me, waiting for my next move. I stand with the weight of their expectations, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. All I can think about is getting to Mia.

Nico, my own cousin, has been eyeing my seat at the top for as long as I can remember, waiting for his chance to strike like a snake in the grass. And who can blame him? If his old man hadn't been taken out, he'd be the one calling the shots right now. It all started with that Russian scum, Orlov Mogilevich. Uncle Gino bought into his bullshit about forging an alliance between the Italians and the Russians. But that slimy fucker double-crossed Gino and put a bullet right between his eyes the day they were supposed to seal the deal. It was a power play, one that set off a shitstorm of bloodshed and betrayal.

My phone vibrates, breaking my thoughts.

Unknown number: Old cargo warehouse. One hour. Come alone, or she dies.

That latter hits me like a freight train. Mia doesn't deserve any of this, and I'll be damned if I let those fuckers lay a finger on her.