Page 47 of Chasing Kit

“Yes.” War’s fists clenched on the expensive leather of the wheel. “Scalia might get away with it, but Sky won’t. In her eyes, he serves no purpose to her.”

I rubbed my upset stomach and leaned back against the seat. “I hope we can convince him to leave.”

He offered a soft, sad smile. “Me too, Kit.”

Silence fell between us, and I closed my eyes, contemplating a future I didn’t yet fully grasp. I was either about to lose a brother and my life would change irrevocably, or I’d drag him out by his hair if I had to. Dad had always been the villain in Sky’s eyes, but now it was my turn.

Finding parking in the city was hell. An hour later, War was cursing, and I realized if this kept up, Dad’s time limit would expire long before we even parked the sleek and overly expensive car.

“Just drop me off and find a spot. I’ll go see him,” I said.

War’s eyebrows furrowed. “No. I need to be at your side.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s my brother, War. I’ll be fine. Please, by the time you find somewhere, Dad will be calling for me to come back.”

War grumbled but nodded. When he pulled to a stop in front of Sky’s building, I jumped out, ignoring the honking cars behind us. War drove off as I raced toward the building entrance. The receptionist, who remembered me from yesterday, took one look and waved me through.

“Your brother said to let you up if you visited again. Here, this is a guest key card for the elevator.”

I thanked him with a grin and rushed to the elevators, hopping into the first one that arrived. I shared the cab with a little old lady holding a toy poodle to her chest.

“Good afternoon. How’s your day been?”

She offered a kind smile. “Very well, thank you. It’s hot out there today.”

I nodded in agreement. Even though it was late September, Louisiana was hellishly hot. How Sky tolerated the heat, I didn’t know. He always complained about anything above sixty-five when he lived in New Gothenburg.

We chatted about little things. Dad had always taught me to be polite to strangers—an ironic lesson, considering he killed people for a living. Why did he instill these social habits in me?

The elevator dinged at Sky’s floor. I said goodbye as I stepped out. Sky’s apartment was the only one on this floor. I knocked, but after a few minutes, no one answered, so I knocked again.

“Sky? It’s me. Kit.” Panic ached in my chest. If I didn’t see him now, I might never get to see him again, and the thought of losing my brother scared the fuck out of me. Fear and anxiety mingled, nausea swelling and my lungs squeezing. I grabbed my phone, unlocked it, and found War’s contact. My thumb hovered over the Call button. Was it stupid to want War right now, even though he was literally on the street finding parking?

“Ki—” Something crashed inside the apartment, and I froze, the beginnings of Sky’s shout echoing through the thick wooden door. He sounded scared. The noise that followed resembled glass hitting a hard floor.

The door wasn’t locked. I shoved it open and stumbled inside, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The apartment was trashed. Furniture overturned, glass shattered over the marble floor, and a vase of flowers spilled and bleeding water across the entry. And in the center of it all, Sky stood with his back to a wall close by the door, his face pale, blood soaking through the shoulder of his white shirt.

Francesca Covolo—or was it Scalia?—faced him with a gun steady in her manicured hands. She was beautiful in the way a blade was, sharp and polished and designed to cut. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant twist and her cream suit was immaculate despite the chaos around her.

“Did you think you could fuck my husband and walk away?” she asked, her voice silken and cold. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out, you little whore?”

“Francesca, please,” Sky whispered. He pressed harder against the wall, terror flashing in his gaze. Neither of them noticed me. “I didn’t know he was married. I swear.”

“Liar.” She took a step closer, the gun unwavering. “Arrigo tells everyone. It’s his little joke. But you thought you were special, didn’t you? Special enough to take what belongs to me.”

I didn’t think. I couldn’t think, not with Sky bleeding and that gun pointed at his chest. I lunged.

My shoulder caught her in the side with all the momentum of my panic and fury. She made a sound of shock, more outrage than pain, and we went down together. The gun skittered across the marble, spinning toward the overturned coffee table.

I scrambled for the weapon, my fingers closing around the grip just as Francesca shoved herself up on her elbows, hair falling loose around her face. Her elegant mask finally cracked to show the animal beneath. She rose to her knees as I pointed the weapon at her.

“Stay there. On your knees,” I shouted.

“Give me the gun, little boy,” she said, holding out her hand, lips curving with a confidence that made my stomach turn. “I promise I won’t kill you and your brother if you do.”

“Don’t listen to her, Kit. She’ll kill us both.”