I Will Revel in Glory

by Stunich, C. M.

  She slips into a pair of swinging doors with the words Employees Only on them.

  I know from the floorplans on Sin’s iPad that this particular hallway leads to the kitchen. There’s a single elevator for room service, a pair of employee restrooms, several storage rooms, and a commercial kitchen that’s not currently functioning. The restaurant is a new addition to the casino, a mafia-added extra that wasn’t here before, and it isn’t open yet.

  There’s also an exit that leads to the rear parking lot.

  “We’ve got guys on the back door,” Crown tells me. “I’ll let you know if they come outside.”

  Only, I’m sure they’re not going outside. They’re obviously sneaking off to fuck. I know passion when I see it; it’s a special skill of mine.

  They could be using the service elevator to get upstairs. That’s a distinct possibility.

  An employee breezes past me as I pretend to be interested in the nearest slot machine, holding a tray of drinks for starry-eyed gamblers in her hands. She skips right past the employee doors.

  I feel my palms start to get itchy, the way they do when I’m looking for trouble.

  “They’re in there, probably with their pants down—literally. I want to check out the situation.”

  “Absolutely not,” Crown growls out, and then I hear a small blip in my earpiece.

  “Go on.” It’s Cat’s voice. “I want to know if they took the elevator or not. Hurry your ass up.”

  Oh shit.

  My boys are going to be furious, but I did promise I would follow orders, right?

  Cat’s orders are absolute.

  I push through the doors and take off down the hall at a quick clip. If I get caught by an employee, I’ll just claim that I got lost looking for the bathroom.

  The elevator is silent when I pass by, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t already use it. I decide to check the employee restrooms, but don’t see anyone in either the men’s or the women’s bathroom.

  “There’s nobody outside yet,” Crown confirm, his voice tight with frustration.

  “Almost done,” I murmur back, keeping my voice low. I duck into a storage room to look around, but that, too, is empty. I step back into the hall and keep going.

  The kitchen is just ahead of me, barely visible behind the large metal doors with their porthole windows. On my right, there’s a hallway that hooks around the corner and leads outside.

  I decide to check that direction, just to be sure, and that’s when I spot them.

  Giulia’s back is pressed to the wall, her dress rucked up around her hips, and Alvise’s favorite capo is plunging his cock into his boss’ wife like he’s on a mission.

  I pause as Cat’s laughter rings out in my earpiece.

  “Excellent. Let’s get in the back door and grab ‘em both.”

  He doesn’t tell me not to step in. He doesn’t tell me not to move.

  I stare openmouthed at Giulia as she kisses and nuzzles the side of Cosimo’s neck and he fucks her with these annoying grunts, stabbing his dick in her over and over again. They’re both so helpless right now … Literally caught with their pants down.

  I reach into my clutch and pull out Queenie’s knife, unfolding the blade before I start to move. I’m not even fully conscious of what I’m doing. I’m moving on instinct and that blinding need for revenge.

  I’m so quick about it that by the time Crown starts yelling at me, it’s too late.

  Giulia notices me a split-second before I plunge my knife into the side of her lover’s neck. Her eyes widen as Cosimo gurgles, already choking on his own blood. I’ve severed his carotid, and it sprays out in a disturbing arc. In movies, when people get their throats slit, they just bubble a little crimson and collapse.

  In real life, that’s not what happens.

  The heart keeps pumping, and red liquid sprays everywhere as Cosimo drops Giulia and stumbles back, his bare cock already covered in his own blood.

  “You little barbarian bitch!” Giulia shouts, her dress still lifted up to expose her perfectly waxed and bare cunt. She manages to snatch her lover’s gun from his belt before he falls into the wall opposite her, clutching at his neck and then falling to a twitchy mess on the floor. He’s passed out; he’ll soon be dead.

  I slam into Giulia, knocking her off-balance but failing to get the gun from her hands. I reach for the back door, but it’s locked. Shit. Why is it locked from the inside?! I turn around just in time to see her aim at me, and one of my lessons from Beast kicks in. With my left hand, I slam my palm into the gun, pushing it aside. With my right, I throw a punishing blow at Giulia’s face, and then my left hand comes up under hers, attempting to yank the weapon away.

  She’s good though.

  Better than Gaz, that’s for sure.

  Giulia manages to keep the gun, and then shoves at me with both hands; I’m forced to either let her pin me to the back door or maneuver around her. Doesn’t give me a chance to grab my own gun, but I sidestep her and then reach back, grabbing at her face and shoving the back of her head hard against the door.

  I yank the Magnum from my clutch and toss the purse aside, but Giulia is already in the process of aiming at me with her own gun. I am not about to get shot again, so I turn to run the short distance down the hall, slipping in the blood at the last minute and going down hard.

  It’s a fortunate mistake as Giulia’s first shot flies right over my head, and I scramble around the corner toward the kitchen. The guys should be storming through that back door at any moment. Doesn’t matter if it’s locked. They’ll find a way in.

  I only need to buy time.

  I burst into the kitchen covered in blood, thankful that it’s still under construction and empty of employees. We don’t need any rando bystanders caught in the crossfire.

  Giulia follows me inside. Whether because she suspected that I’d go in the opposite direction or because she’s a maniac, I don’t know. All I know is that she’s firing her gun at me, and I’m diving behind one of the steel counters like a kid in Jurassic Park, scrambling around the corner of the counter as I hear footsteps.

  “You cunt,” she hisses, her breath panting and frantic. Maybe she actually loved Cosimo Balotelli? Who knows? I don’t particularly care. I hope she did. I hope his death hits her like a freight train to the chest the way Queenie’s death did me. “I should’ve given you to my men to play with and then jammed the heel of my stiletto into your eye socket.”

  Creative.

  I give her props for that even as I aim my own weapon around one of the counters. Unfortunately, I don’t see her anywhere.

  “We’re on our way, Gidge. Hold tight.” It’s Crown. I think he’s been talking to me for several minutes now, but the buzz of the adrenaline chased away his words. I feel strength surge through me at the sound of his voice, and then I’m crawling in the opposite direction on all fours to peer around that end of the counter.

  Nothing.

  I still my breathing as best as I can and wait, listening for any possible sound. Footsteps. Panting breaths. Clinking silverware.

  I start to wonder if Giulia hasn’t left the room already.

  There’s a prickle on the back of my neck. A gunshot goes off as I throw myself instinctually around the corner. The bullet buries itself into the wall two feet from where I was crouching. I stand up then slide over the counter on my belly, looking down to see if I can’t see her.

  Damn it.

  I drop back down and put my back to the counter, listening for movement.

  Figures the don’s wife would be a badass.

  Fuck.

  All I can hear is my heart beating, and the chatter from the other side of my earpiece.

  From the sound of it, the boys have run into trouble on their way in from the woods.

  Shit, shit, double, triple shit.

  I shove up to my feet and start to run, weaving through the convoluted shape of the kitchen and hoping that Giulia is having as much trouble getting a clear sh
ot on me as I am her. Also, thank fuck that I wore flats instead of heels. Trust me, this outfit would’ve looked a million times hotter with a pair of black stilettos, but I would’ve had to kick them off already in order to haul ass.

  Giulia surprises me by knocking into me just as I reach the swinging doors, and we both go down hard, scrambling at one another for a chance to fire off an easy shot. She pulls the trigger on me, and a bullet buries itself into the floor.

  She’s got a silencer on her weapon, but it’s still loud, and I’m having trouble hearing Crown’s voice as he yells at me. The heel of my hand comes up, slamming into Giulia’s face as she tries to fire another shot.

  Another miss.

  I end up dropping the Magnum so that I can grab both of Giulia’s wrists, shoving the aim of her own weapon away from my face. She resists, her teeth gritted, angry tears streaming down her face but failing to smear any of that careful liner or mascara she’s wearing. Must be pretty expensive stuff. Even the blood of her lover hasn’t managed to wash any of it away.

  Because I’m club, because I’m just a dirty animal, I allow Giulia to lower her hands just enough that I can lift my head up and bite down on her wrist hard enough to draw blood. She lets out a violent exhale in place of a scream, but I’ve disrupted her grip enough that she drops her own gun.

  She rolls immediately away from me, reaching for the weapon, but I’m on her back, wrapping an arm around her neck. Our scrabbling sends the pistol spinning underneath the nearest counter. Meanwhile, I can feel the cool metal of the Magnum on my left side, but I don’t dare reach back for it and unsettle my own balance.

  Giulia digs her now bare feet—she was wearing heels—into the floor and then kicks violently, spinning our bodies to the side and then sliding right back between my legs. She’s up, and I’m rolling over just in time to see her snatch a knife from the counter.

  Without a word, she drops down, driving the knife toward me, and I just barely manage to roll to one side. The Magnum is right there, but as I go for it, Giulia slashes at me with her newfound weapon, drawing blood all down my right hip.

  I stumble a bit and my hand hits the gun, knocking it even further out of reach. I’m forced to engage Giulia as she comes at me with the knife again. I end up kicking her in the chest and sending her back several feet.

  I’m barely able to find mine before she’s coming at me again. There’s no time to bend down and grab the gun, so I grab a knife of my own off the counter and hold it the way Grainger showed me, all of my fingers nice and tight around the grip.

  We’re both panting now, covered in blood that mostly isn’t ours. I ignore the fire of agony in my right hip, more concerned with keeping my attention on Giulia. My eyes flick toward the Magnum. It’s right fucking there on the floor, but if I go for it, she’ll come for me, and she’s fast.

  Just like a viper. Ready to strike.

  “You,” she says again, with a small laugh. I’m surprised nobody’s come in here yet—mafia or club or otherwise. It’s just us. Just me and my almost mother-in-law.

  “Me,” I agree, smiling prettily at her. It must look hideous, with her lover’s blood all over my face. “How was it, by the way? To have your man start to die while he was still inside of you? Must’ve been traumatic.”

  Giulia’s dark eyes narrow, her carefully coiffed hair coming loose to tumble in straight dark hanks around her shoulders. She’s pushed her dress back down, but we both know she’s commando under there.

  What she doesn’t do is rush me in anger. I’d been hoping for that, a messy, wild thrust of her knife that I could sidestep and then grab the Magnum. Instead, she goes to circle me, but I won’t let her. I don’t need her moving closer to the gun while I’m pushed farther away. Instead, I hold my ground until she’s bold enough to try for an attack.

  She thrusts the knife toward me, and I decide to drop my own, using my right forearm to slam into hers as I spin my body to the side and then grab her wrist with both hands. Giulia jerks back from me, but I don’t release my grip and we stumble together into a nearby counter.

  I can still taste her blood in my mouth as I throw my head back and slam my skull into her face. She grunts, and I do it again. Her grip on the knife loosens slightly, and I’m able to slam her hands on the edge of the counter, dislodging the weapon.

  I turn before she can react and throw a hard punch that hits her right in the throat. Giulia’s clever as fuck though because she drops down to the floor and hits it hard, lunging forward to grab the knife and then turning to swing it at the backs of my legs.

  Sharp pain lances across my calves as I throw my own body forward, hating that she’s closer to the gun than I am, but desperate to keep myself out of her reach. I spin around and grab my own knife, rising to my feet and brandishing it at her once again.

  She very carefully gets up. Giulia might not be looking at the gun, but we both know exactly where it is. First person there will likely win this fight.

  “Did you love him?” I taunt, and she just laughs at me.

  “Love him? He was a hot fuck and that’s it. Don’t kid yourself.” Giulia says the words, but I don’t believe them. Because I saw the way she looked at the rose he gave her—like it truly meant something. I might not understand a lot in life, but what I do know is this: love and heartbreak. Give me a PHD in that shit because I know all there is to know. “We used to talk about how tight and hot your sister, Posey, was, how good it felt for Cosimo to sink his cock into her while she screamed. It got us both off.”

  I have to swallow past my rage, suddenly realizing as I do that my earpiece is missing. It must’ve gotten knocked out in the melee. Fuck.

  She’s trying to hurt me the way I’m trying to hurt her, and the worst part is that it’s working. Between the two of us, I’m much more likely to lose my shit and react emotionally to the situation.

  I force myself to shut those thoughts down.

  Just in time, too, because Giulia throws her knife at me and dives for the Magnum. It’s in her hands and she’s taking a shot just before I drop down on the other side of the counter. She knows where I am, and we’re near the front of the kitchen now. I don’t have a lot of places to go. I’ve got walls on two sides of me.

  Instead, I decide that it’s do or die.

  I need to make a bold move, and I need to do it now.

  I hop over the counter, surprising her, and our bodies collide. We crash to the floor together, and then I’m throwing the knife down and it’s glancing off bone. I do it again. And again. I’m hitting her, but in non-vital places. At the very least, she’s lost the gun again.

  I jerk back and then drop the knife into her belly, the blade sliding through her flesh with this horrendous popping sensation. Can you really go to hell for killing the devil? I wonder, scrambling back and looking for the Magnum. It’s gone. I can’t find it. Where did it go?!

  Giulia is groaning and rolling onto her side as I stumble to my feet and look around for the other pistol. Instead, I see a metal serving cart that looks like it was either being repaired or being put together. One of the metal supports is lying beside the mess of parts, and I pick it up, tapping the end of it against my palm.

  My breathing is so loud, my heartbeat so ferocious, I can barely hear anything else. Even Giulia’s moans are low and hard to hear. She’s already grabbed onto the nearest countertop and is trying to drag herself to her feet.

  I walk right up to her and swing the pole, hitting her with it and dropping her to the floor.

  “Fucking biker filth,” she groans, blood spattered everywhere. I’ve cut her arms to ribbons. “It was the right choice, killing your whore of a sister and that monstrosity of a baby that was inside of her.” I lift the metal pipe—or whatever it is—up and swing it down on Giulia. Again. Again.

  I’m beating her with the pole like I’ve completely and utterly lost my mind.

  With a growl, I throw the pole as hard as I can, and it slams into the wall. As soon as I do, panting an
d shaking and bleeding, I look at Giulia and see that she’s still very much alive. That’s when I catch sight of the Magnum, half under the edge of a stove. I walk over to it and pick it up.

  “You’re nothing,” Giulia groans, pushing herself into a sitting position. She turns to look at me, and there’s so much fire in her eyes, I almost feel bad about what I’m going to do. “Nothing. Just an uneducated, white trash whore. What do you really think you’re going to get out of this? Accolades from your mongrel father? I’ll tell you what you’ll get: nothing. That club will use you and toss you aside like so much garbage.”

  I lift the weapon up in one hand, using the other to swipe some of the blood away from my mouth. The doors behind me open, and I can feel the presence of my men like a tempest.

  “This is for Queenie,” I say simply, and then I pull the trigger, putting a single round right through Giulia Wolfe’s forehead.

  Beast grabs me immediately, turning me around so that he can look at me.

  “Where are you hurt, wife?” he asks, but I’m too pumped up with adrenaline to remember. Am I hurt? Did she get me?

  I can’t seem to pull my gaze away from Beast’s. His expression is tight with concern, but underneath all of that is love. It’s endless and devastating in its purity. How long has it been there? When did he let himself drop into the void that calls itself true love, that boundless velvet sky where you and your lover are the only stars?

  “I’m not hurt,” I reply woodenly, looking down at the feeling of hot fingers on my hip. It’s Grainger.

  “What the fuck do you call this then?” he growls out, but his angry tone is laced with that same awe-inspiring depth that Beast holds in his face.

  “It’s shallow,” I reply, but I’m not sure that it is. Mostly, when I look up and meet his umber gaze, I just want him to keep touching me. My heart is thundering, and I’m dripping crimson all over the floor, but mostly, it’s not my blood.