my ruined clothes, Donatella would see the roadmap of violence carved into my flesh-the bullet holes from the Chicago docks,

cked up my shattered arms, and the room spun violen

rasped, my

hed brow. The doctor froze, a pa

tone conveyed respect but absolute urgency. "But there

commanded, stepping

confession letter from a loyal Soldier who was ordered to betray him. It's hidden in his secret apartment in Greenwich Village. Marco and S

at a battered, hysterical girl anymore; she was looking at a

f her wrist. "Take my armored Cadillac. Two of my best Soldiers wi

ther and Donatella's heavy perfume-a borrowed fortress. Gia sat beside me, her hands trembling as she clu

the mask of the Falcone princess and breathe as the Enforcer I truly was. A black mourning wreath hung on the h

ehind, flanked by the two massive Romano Soldier

ht there," a

d in wearing my tailored men's suits, slipping him hundred-dollar bills. Now, he

I said, keeping my voice steady desp

crossing his arms. "No one go

e," I hissed,

crazies, no scammers looking for a handout. Mr. Angelo's *real* sister, Miss Sofia, is a

the poison Marco had slipped

alls, touching my weapons, breathing my air. The realization settled over me like a suffocating shroud. I was