(KRYSTAL'S POV)
I always forget how close L.A. is to Vegas.
The second we got on the plane at six in the fucking morning, I was out cold. One second I'm sleeping, the next Val's hand is on my thigh, gently shaking me awake.
"Hey," he murmurs. "We landed."
I blink at him, disoriented.
"You're lying," I groan.
He smiles. "I wish."
Now we're in a six-car convoy cutting through the streets of L.A., tinted windows, black SUVs, men spaced out with military precision. It's all very intimidating, very mafia-core, very normal for my life now.
I'm in the backseat with Val. Alone.
Thank God.
Because I really don't have the emotional bandwidth to sit in a car with either of his brothers right now.
Raffaele hasn't spoken to me since the last time I lost my temper and lashed out at him.
And Angelo… Angelo is complicated.
