“Sal kept a sword hidden beneath the bed in case Massioni ever sent some muscle there to work him over for the money he owed. After he died, Chiara left the weapon in place. By some miracle of adrenaline or determination, she was able to fight the bastard off, but barely.”
Holy hell. As he thought of the tiny slip of a woman trying to fight off a healthy Breed male he shook his head slowly in disbelief. The fact that she survived was beyond lucky or even miraculous, but Trygg was right. The odds of her doing it again were slim to none.
Which was, apparently, where Scythe and his specific set of skills came in. Not that it would take a request from Trygg or the Order to convince him to hunt down Chiara’s attacker and make the Breed male pay in blood and anguish.
The very idea of her cowering as some animal attempted to harm her made Scythe's whole body quake with fiery rage.
“So, the Order needs me to find this bastard and tear his head off, then?”
“Just killing him isn’t going to get to the root of the problem. We don’t think this attack is random. The Order needs you to protect Chiara and Pietro while we work to figure out who’s after her and why.”
Scythe could not hold back the snarl that built in his throat. “You know I don’t do bodyguard duty. Damn it, you know why too.”
“Yeah,” Trygg said. “And I’m still asking you to do it. You’re the only one we can trust with this, brother. The Order’s got all hands on deck with Opus Nostrum, Rogue outbreaks, and ninety-nine other problems at the moment. We need you.”
Scythe groaned. “You ask too fucking much this time.”
Protecting the woman would cost him. He knew that from both instinct and experience. For almost a score, he’d kept his feedings down to once a week. His body’s other needs were kept on an even tighter leash.
He’d only spent a few hours with Chiara Genova six weeks ago, yet it was long enough to know that being under the same roof with her was going to test both his patience and his self-discipline.
But the kid? That was a no-go. There were things he just couldn’t do, not even for his brother.
He mulled over Trygg’s request in miserable silence.
“What’s it gonna be, Scythe?”
The refusal sat on the tip of his tongue, but damned if he could spit it out. “If I do this, we do it my way. I don’t answer to the Order or to anyone else. Agreed?”
“Sure, you got it. Just get your ass to Rome as soon as you can so we can go over your plan and coordinate efforts.”
“What about her?” Scythe demanded. “Does Chiara know you’ve contacted me to help her?”
The stretch of silence on the other end of the line told him all he needed to know and he grimaced.
“Savage and Bella are bringing Chiara and Pietro in as we speak,” Trygg said. “They should all be here within the hour.”
Scythe cursed again, more vividly this time. “I’m on my way.”
He ended the call, then threw the SUV into gear and gunned it out to the street.
Chapter 2
“Absolutely not. It’s out of the question.”
Chiara crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the assembled warriors as if they’d lost their minds. They must have, if they thought she would agree to anything they’d just explained.
“I’m not leaving Rome without my son. I haven't been apart from Pietro for more than a few hours since he was born. You think I'm going to start now, when you suspect some animal is out to kill me?”
She shook her head furiously, pacing the conference room in agitation. She’d agreed to keep an open mind when Ettore and Bella brought her to the Order’s command center earlier tonight, but that didn’t mean she was going to let them separate her from her boy.
She turned to face her former sister-in-law, desperate for an ally.
“Bella, please. You know I'd do just about anything you asked. When you and Ettore took Pietro and me from the vineyard to keep us safe from Vito Massioni and his men, I went without argument. But this? There has to be another way.”
No one answered, just as no one had answered any of her other questions and protests, either. She caught the subtle shift of Ettore’s gaze toward the far side of the meeting room where a Breed male who wasn’t part of the Order stood. He wasn’t a stranger to her, although she could hardly claim to be completely comfortable in his presence, despite the fact that some weeks ago she and Pietro had taken shelter in his safe house in Matera along with Bella and Ettore.
Tall and broad, immense even for a Gen One, as he was, Scythe was a wall of muscle and menace. His all-black clothing was a sinister complement to his long ebony hair and close-trimmed beard. Even his eyes were black. His intelligent, unreadable obsidian gaze seemed to see everything, know everything.