Page 132 of Brutal Revenge

I don’t listen. He doesn’t want a woman who stands back three places and bows her head at the slightest provocation. He wants someone who will stand by his side even when times are tough.

He huffs when I open the door and step outside, but that’s the only response he gives. Before we can figure out what’s causing the commotion half a mile away, the lead SUV’s security officer jogs toward us, pale and shaken.

“There’s been an accident,” he says. “A logging truck overturned on a sharp corner.”

My stomach drops. This is exactly why I never travel behind or next to a logging truck. Anyone who has watchedFinal Destinationfeels the same way.

Morbidly curious, I walk forward until the crash site comes into view. A logging truck didn’t just overturn. Its loose logs flattened a dark sedan like boulders rolling over an anthill. There’s no way the occupants inside survived. The once medium-sized Audi now sits as low as a sardine can.

“Do you know who was inside?” I ask, my throat scratchy. I lock eyes with Matteo. “This road is the only access route to the hotel. The occupants could be guests of ours.”

An officer on the scene clears his throat. “Audi is registered to…”—he flicks through a notepad—“Leone Greco. He was staying at the hotel with three of his cousins: Mikel, Roko, and Sansone.” His eyes lift from the notebook. “Do their names ring a bell?”

I shake my head. Our guest list was huge, but since I was responsible for the seating chart, I memorized each name by heart.

“Perhaps they were just guests at the hotel?”

“Perhaps,” Matteo murmurs, joining me near the officer. “Do you have any photos of them?”

“Ah… yeah.”

As the officer scrolls through the album’s app on his phone, Matteo pulls me to his side.

I learn why when the officer shows me a recently printed surveillance image. Despite not seeing them well, the faces of the men my father used to threaten me with are permanently seared into my memory.

“Do you recognize them?”

I swallow hard before once again shaking my head. “I’ve never seen them before.”

Matteo glances down at his shoes to hide his smile before leading me back to our SUV. Halfway there, curiosity overcomes me. “How did this happen?”

The patrolman stops talking to the security officer from the lead SUV before he cranks his head my way. “The truck driver forgot to put the safety pin in. When the truck took the corner, the logs rolled off, killing all the passengers in the Audi instantly.”

He winks as if the situation isn’t what it appears to be before he resumes talking to the security officer. Matteo guides me into the back seat of the SUV just as fast.

As our vehicle navigates through the traffic accident scene that took the lives of the men Matteo would have given anything to kill, he reaches into his pocket. Without hesitation, he hands me something cold, metal, and chilling.

It’s a safety pin.

Thesafety pin.

My breath catches, and I shoot my eyes toward him.

He neither smiles nor gloats like the officer did. Nor does he explain himself. He simply watches me, waiting... no,anticipatingthat I’ll react.

I do, but not in the way he’s expecting.

I’m not angry.

I’m… pleased.

Never in my life has someone stood up for me, and he didn’t do it for alliances or power.

He did it for me.

Closing my fingers around the pin, I align my eyes with the pair peering at me in the rearview mirror before saying, “Please take the long way home.”

The driver dips his head in agreement before he slides up the privacy partition I’m praying makes this half of the SUV soundproof.