Chapter 91: Dead Nico

After dancing with Cassian for a while, I finally begin to relax.

He tells me stories about things that happened while I was away from the family, most of which involve him getting into trouble and somehow convincing everyone else that it wasn’t his fault.

Naturally, I call bullshit.

He retaliates by reminding me of the time I broke Uncle Lorenzo’s favorite whiskey bottle and blamed it on the housekeeper’s cat.

"In my defense," I say, "that cat looked guilty.

Cassian laughs, throwing his head back.

God, I’ve missed this.

For a little while, I forget about the bruises on my neck, the tension between our families, and the infuriating man I married. I am simply Nerissa again, dancing with the brother who has always made me feel as though the world might not be such a terrible place after all.

Unfortunately, the peace doesn’t last.

"Having fun?"

I turn at the sound of Lysander’s voice.

My husband stands beside us, looking as immaculate as ever. His expression gives absolutely nothing away, but his eyes briefly settle on Cassian’s hand resting against my shoulder.

"Immensely," Cassian answers before I can speak. "Your wife is excellent company."

"How fortunate for me."

"Very."

The two exchange smiles that would fool absolutely no one.

I sigh.

"Are you two going to start measuring your dicks, or can I finish enjoying my evening?"

Lysander looks at me.

"We have to leave.

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Nerissa."

"And here I was thinking you might have learned to ask rather than issue commands."

His jaw shifts.

Cassian chuckles beside me. "Good luck with that, brother-in-law."

Lysander gives him a look.

"Thank you. I’ll need it."

I bite back a laugh.

"Fine," I say, turning to Cassian. "I’ll see you soon?"

He kisses my forehead, his expression softening.

"Take care of yourself, Ris."

"I always do."

"I know." He brushes a stray strand of hair away from my face. "That’s what worries me."

I smile and hug him before stepping away.

Lysander places a hand against my lower back, guiding me toward the exit. I glance over my shoulder once, catching Cassian watching us with an expression I cannot quite decipher.

Then the crowd swallows him.

I want to go tell Victoria and Bella I’m leaving but guess I’ll have to text them.

Outside, the night air is cooler, and I breathe it in gratefully. The noise of the party fades behind us as Lysander leads me toward his ridiculous, ridiculously expensive car.

I stop beside it.

"Are you going to tell me why we’re leaving so early?"

"No."

I stare at him as he opens the passenger door.

"Get in, love."

"Charming."

"I’m told."

I climb inside, muttering several very unflattering things about my husband under my breath.

He closes the door before I can add anything else.

The drive home is quiet.

Lysander keeps his attention on the road, one hand resting on the steering wheel. The city lights slide across his face as we pass through the streets, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the occasional crease between his brows.

I consider asking him what is wrong.

Then I remember who I’m married to.

If he wants to tell me something, he will. If he doesn’t, I could interrogate him until sunrise and still get nothing useful.

So I settle back into my seat and watch the city pass.

When we finally arrive at the mansion, I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for the door.

I pause, glancing at him.

"Aren’t you coming inside?"

"I have something to take care of."

I give him a small, unimpressed smile.

"Try not to murder anyone before breakfast."

"I’ll do my best."

I step out of the car and shut the door. He waits until I reach the entrance before driving away.

I watch his taillights disappear beyond the gates.

Then I turn toward the house.

Whatever business he has tonight is none of my concern.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as I walk upstairs to my bedroom, remove my jewelry, and begin taking off ny dress.

Still, when I finally crawl into bed, I find myself wondering where my husband is going and why he looked as though he couldn’t wait to leave.

Lysander’s POV

I head to Nico’s house with one thing on my mind.

Ending this.

I grip the steering wheel, my jaw tightening as I drive through the quiet streets. The party is behind me, along with the endless smiles and meaningless conversations. I should be home, in bed, enjoying the rare peace of a night without someone trying to put a bullet in me.

Instead, I’m on my way to murder a man.

A few days ago, I sat across from Nico and offered him a chance to dissolve his engagement to Isabella. I gave him every opportunity to walk away without losing face. I even made it clear that I was willing to compensate him for whatever business arrangement he thought he was entitled to.

He refused.

Apparently, the old bastard believes my sister is a possession he has every right to keep.

I warned him but he chose not to listen.

Now, I’m switching tactics.

Death tends to be rather persuasive.

I hate that it has come to this. Despite everything, Nico is a man with connections, influence, and enough money to make troublesome people disappear. Killing him will create problems I would rather avoid, especially with the questions his death will raise among the people who do business with him.

But Isabella is my sister.

She is over twenty years younger than the man she is expected to marry, and he has already shown enough of his character for me to know exactly what kind of life awaits her if I allow this arrangement to proceed.

I’ve seen what happens to the women Nico claims to love.

Three wives, theee dead women and now he wants Isabella.

Not while I’m breathing.

I slow the car several miles from his estate and pull over in a secluded spot. The engine dies, leaving me surrounded by silence.

I sit for a moment, staring through the windshield.

I gave Nico the easy way out.

He refused.....If anything, this is entirely on him.

I step out, lock the car, and begin the long walk toward his estate.

The night air is cool against my face. I keep my hands in my pockets and my head down as I approach the perimeter, studying the property from a distance.

Nico has money, but he has never been particularly clever about security. He hires men who look intimidating, pays them well enough to discourage questions, and assumes that their presence alone makes him untouchable.

An amusing mistake.

Getting past them is surprisingly easy.

I know where to look, which routes to avoid, and how to move without drawing unnecessary attention. Within minutes, I’m inside the estate and making my way toward the house.

My pulse remains steady.

I’ve done worse things than this. The only difference is that tonight, I’m killing someone I would have preferred to leave alive.

I enter through an upstairs window and move quietly through the corridor. The house is dim, most of the lights switched off. Somewhere downstairs, a television murmurs in the background.

I follow the sound of voices until I reach Nico’s bedroom.

The door is slightly ajar so push it open and immediately regret having eyes.

Nico is in bed with a woman young enough to be his daughter, his attention entirely occupied by whatever desperate performance he believes will impress her.

Disgust twists in my stomach when I notice the medication beside the bed.

Viagra.

I almost pity the woman beneath him.

Nico has always been a disgusting excuse for a human being, but there is something particularly revolting about watching him fuck like this while expecting everyone else to treat him as a respectable man.

The irony would be funny if my sister’s future weren’t hanging in the balance.

I close the bedroom door behind me glad that neither of them notices.

Nico’s back is turned toward me, his face buried near the woman’s shoulder. She has her eyes closed, apparently unaware that her evening is about to become something she will never forget.

I draw my gun, the silencer is already attached.

I take one final breath.

This is not about revenge. It isn’t about pride, business, or the fact that Nico has spent years believing he can do whatever he wants without consequences.

This is about Isabella.

My little sister deserves to live without looking over her shoulder, without wondering whether the man beside her will become violent when the doors close and the guests leave.

I won’t let that happen.

I raise the gun, aim and pull the trigger straight to his head.

Nico goes still immediately, his body collapsing forward onto the woman beneath him.

For one suspended second, the room is silent, then she opens her eyes.

Her gaze moves from Nico’s unmoving body to the blood spreading across the sheets.

Her mouth opens and a bloodcurdling scream tears through the room.

I lower my weapon and step back as she scrambles away, dragging the covers over herself with trembling hands.

I turn, cross the room, and slip back out through the window.

By the time I reach the side of the house, I can already hear shouting inside. Footsteps thunder through the corridors, and security guards begin rushing toward the bedroom.

Too late.

I move away from the building without running, keeping my head down as I leave the estate.

I continue walking until the lights of Nico’s property disappear behind me. Several miles later, I finally reach the spot where I left my car.

I unlock it, slide behind the wheel, and sit in the darkness.

It’s done.

Isabella is safe.

At least, she will be once the consequences of tonight begin to unfold.