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“What’s next?” Lex asks, looking at Maeve. Killian opens the car door, gesturing for me to enter.

“In order to collect the bounty, we have to send photo confirmation, then wait for someone to inspect.”

“Who?”

“The person who holds the bounty,” I explain. “I’m a damn good hacker, but I could never figure it out.”

It would’ve been a lot easier to break into their banking system, take the bounty, and kill the hit. But unfortunately, there were safe locks upon safe locks preventing me from accessing who held the bounty. My father was smart—he picked someone outside the city responsible for payment. He knew we’d try to sabotage it.

“There’s a burner number,” Maeve says. “We call it and wait.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t go past the sixty minutes,” I quip, and she glares. No jokes—got it. “I’ll be fine,” I cajole. “Just have to hope there’s no traffic.”

“Get in the car, kid,” Killian demands, leaning over the edge of the door. “And try not to piss your sister off. If she kills you, there goes our plan.”

Valid. Climbing in, Lex takes the driver’s seat, Killian in the passenger's seat. Maeve slides in next to me, her violet-and-juniper scent settling my nerves.

It’s the scent of my big sister, my protector, saving me again. She saved me as a kid from a nanny I barely remember, from my father’s rage that would’ve tainted me, and now, death.

Gripping her hand, I grin. “Only the O’Briens can turn a death sentence into a sibling-bonding experience.”

She snorts, shoulders deflating. “If you don’t come to family dinners now, I’ll take it personally.”

“Noted.”

It’s a short drive toward the center of Little Italy. Right on the edge of Bruno and De Luca’s territory, where my father first started digging into their profits. Standing before the giant chains and the lush flowers behind them, we’re smack in the middle of a few buildings and businesses.

Silence hangs in the air. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and Killian pulls out his gun. Maeve and Lex follow, while I look around.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Where’s your weapon?” Lex asks me, and I smirk.

“Unless you want me flinging a little pocket knife, I don’t do weapons.”

The capo looks at Maeve, expression shocked. “I understand why Sloane and Collins never learned to shoot—but him, too?”

“I tried,” she mutters, eyes narrowed on the empty streets. “He has a gun; he just never wanted to use it.”

“Mio Dio.”

Killian grabs the front of my sweatshirt. “Stand behind me.”

Really not going to argue that. I take a step behind the Reaper and hear the locking of a gun’s safety going off. Many different guns.

Three people appear in front of me. One has a shotgun over his shoulder, while the others are holding handguns of various sizes. As the street light shines over their heads, I groan under my breath.

“Seriously? Ennis, Hank, and Walter? All of you came out for this?”

Killian sighs, clocking his gun. “Friends of yours?”

“We’ve run into each other over the years.”

These three have hunted me in some city over the course of my exile. I’m not the type to stick around and be killed; I did enough to get loose and run to the next city. But they always tracked me down again.

“We finally found you,” Ennis coos, swaggering closer. “Remind me to send a gift to Gabriele for the information.”

Walter snorts. “Must’ve finally pissed the man off if he sold you out. I thought you two were buddies?”