Point of No Return

Killian

I was face to face with a woman who had died fifteen years ago.

Allegedly.

Somewhere along the way, all I’d learned about her had been tangled up in a web of lies. Tonight, I’d tugged on one of those threads, and there was no going back, assuming she didn’t unload that shotgun on me.

Caterina Bianchi, the wife of Andre Bianchi, the mother of Leonardo and Serafina Bianchi.

Her expression and body language suggested she was warring with herself about whether to shoot me for saying I was in love with her daughter—with an age difference of twenty-two years—or keep me alive long enough to get answers. I had killed her son, after all. She knew that much.

Would Sera be thrilled when I told her that her mother was alive? Or would she be enraged that she had faked her death all those years ago?

Caterina swallowed hard. “I should put a bullet through your heart.”

“You could.” I gave her a look I would give one of my men who had stepped out of line. “But I’m here for a reason. Would you