by Bella J.
Matteo inhaled deeply. “Ah. There’s nothing like the fresh smell of the ocean.” Theatrical bastard. “Wouldn’t you agree, my love?”
My spine tingled with warning and I snarled like a fucking animal as I watched him hold out his hand and help Layla out of the car.
The second my gaze met hers, I sucked in a breath. “Layla.”
She bit her lower lip, her eyes weak and tired, dark circles painted at the tops of her cheekbones. It was only when she looked down to the ground, turning away from me, that I saw the black bruise on the side of her face.
I erupted. Without thinking, I reached for my gun, my legs launching me forward. But a hand grabbed me, pulling me back. “Dante, don’t.”
My glare cut to Matteo while struggling against my brother. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
He feigned a look of confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I swear to God, Mancuso, I will gut you from nose to navel.”
“Oh,” he turned Layla’s face toward him, “are you talking about this little mark?” He pulled a pouch from his pocket. “She got a little greedy trying to snap this away from me with her clumsy little ass. Tripped and fell over her own damn feet.”
“Is that the drugs? The heroin you’re blackmailing her with to get her to stay with you?”
“Oh, please, Dante. Layla is with me because she wants to be.” He placed his arm around her body, and her shoulders slumped forward. “Tell him, babe.”
I jerked free from Antonio’s hold, never taking my eyes off her. There was so much pain written all over her face, and it sliced straight through my soul.
“Tell him,” Matteo snapped, startling her. Her eyes pinched closed, tears slipping down her face. I could see her shudder all the way from where I was standing as she wrapped her arms around her chest.
“Stop this, Mancuso. Leave her the fuck alone.”
Matteo pulled her harder against him. “Tell him!”
“I’m with him.” Her voice broke, her body shivering uncontrollably. “I’m with Matteo.”
“Why?” Matteo dragged out the word as if he was talking to a child.
Layla whimpered, tears streaming down her pale face. “Because I want to be.”
Matteo smiled wickedly. “See. Told you.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t handle seeing her in so much pain. It was killing me, and I had no other choice but to react.
I pulled out my gun, but not before Matteo dropped the pouch, grabbed Layla at the back of her head, and pushed the muzzle of his gun against her cheek. “Put away your gun, Dante.”
“If you hurt her, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Huh? You’ll what? Kill me?” He snorted. “Unfortunately, my bullet will be in her skull before you even pulled your fucking trigger.”
Layla cried, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Stefano,” my father called, “stop this. Stop this right now. This has gone far enough.”
“Release my cargo, and it can all end now.”
I snapped my glare in his direction. “This won’t end until you let Layla go.”
Stefano sighed. “All this drama over a girl?”
“A girl you kidnapped. A girl you turned into a fucking addict!”
“Talking about an addict,” Matteo turned the attention back to him, “I promised this beauty a reward. After all, she’s been doing her job really well.”
“What job?” I demanded.
He cocked a brow. “Fucking with your head, of course.”
“The only thing fucking with my head right now is the uncontrollable urge to carve your goddamn spine out.”
Matteo tsk’d. “So violent. No wonder she came to me, all alone and pregnant, begging for me to make her disappear off your radar.”
I scowled as more pieces were added to the puzzle. “That’s how you got hold of her, isn’t it? You knew where she was all along.”
He loosened his grip on her hair and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. “All because of her daddy, selling out his own daughter for a buck.”
Layla continued to cry, biting her bottom lip.
Matteo gestured to one of the guards to pick up the pouch he dropped. “Take your reward, darling.” Layla hesitated. “I said take it!”
Both Lucio and Antonio aimed their guns, the bodyguards in front of Stefano doing the same. It was fucking anarchy, guns pointed in every possible direction. But Matteo just pressed his gun harder against Layla’s cheek, making everyone painfully aware that he had the upper hand.
I inched forward. “Let her go, Matteo. If you don’t, I guarantee you no one will walk away from this alive.”
“Shhh,” he cooed as Layla sobbed, shaking as she took the pouch from him. “Let’s show secret daddy here what you really are. What really runs through your veins.”
“Stop this, now!”
Thunder rumbled in the background, lightning cracking through the night sky. The storm was about to erupt above us, as it was about to rage between us and the Mancusos.
“Go on, Layla,” Matteo urged, knowing all too well he was holding all the cards. The fucker was right. I couldn’t do shit without Layla getting hurt or killed, and it was driving me insane. Not being able to tear her away from him was the worst kind of torture.
In horror, I watched as Layla pulled out the needle. When I saw the way she stared at the vial with hunger in her eyes, I realized how much trouble she was really in. How far and deep she had already fallen. The drugs had complete control over her. It steered her every action, manipulated her with the promise of escape.
Her gaze shot up to meet mine. “Dante.”
I shook my head. “Don’t do it, Layla. Fight it. You have to fight it.” Fuck!
She leaned her head to the side, remorse carved all over her face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Don’t.”
“Is he safe?”
I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t fucking breathe. “Yes. Our son is safe. So you don’t have to do this.”
She closed her eyes, and I saw a moment of sheer relief drop over her face like a veil—then pushed the needle into her arm.
The heart she had returned, the heart she had with her all this time, cracked into a thousand pieces, slicing through my insides. My soul screamed, yet I didn’t make a sound as I watched the woman I loved succumb, allowing the poison to carry her mind far away from reality.
Matteo laughed. “Isn’t it a sight, Dante? It’s almost as good as seeing her come with my cock buried inside her pretty little cunt.”
That was the moment the animal in me broke through its cage, forcing me to storm forward, so possessed with the need to kill that I no longer cared about Matteo having an upper hand.
My voice roared, thunder echoing in the distance. Red spread from the corners of my vision, an inferno of fury raging inside me, catapulting me to the object of the bitter hate that turned me into a mindless demon.
It was one moment which seemed to play out over a thousand heartbeats. Matteo turned his gun, aiming straight at me. But I was no longer in control. My sanity, my humanity, my fucking life had been torn from me the second she pushed that needle into her flesh.
“Dante!”
I heard the shot. And then I saw the crimson.
Every sound went on mute. Every action took place in slow motion, and for a second my mind couldn’t make sense of what was happening.
I blinked. I breathed. And then I screamed. “No!”
My legs felt too weak to push me off the ground, so I scampered across the asphalt to where my father lay bleeding.
More gunshots echoed around me as I hunched over my father, crimson oozing out of his chest. “Dad. No.” I placed my hands over the wound, blood seeping through my fingers. “Jesus. No!”
Antonio slammed into me, his hands over mine as we tried to stop the bleeding. More gunshots sounded around us, but I lost all grip on reality. Every fucking second felt too
surreal. Everything was wrong.
My dad’s eyes fluttered open and closed as he struggled to breathe. “Save her, Dante.” His whisper came out with a gurgling sound, and he coughed violently, choking on his own blood. “Save her.” His eyes closed. My heart stopped.
“Dad!” Antonio yelled. “Dad, no!”
Thunder. Lightning. Gunshots. Chaos.
All I could do was watch as my father let out his last breath, life being ripped out of him within a single moment. And then I screamed. I fucking cried out as reality slowly started to infuse with the excruciating pain of watching my father die. This was not how it was supposed to happen. My father dying was not part of the fucking plan. In fact, I was the one ready to die for the people I loved. I wasn’t ready for anyone else to die except the fuckers who thought they had the power to play God with all our lives.
I looked up, sound starting to return, the chaos and mayhem pulling me back to the here and now. And then I saw her. Layla. Her limp body being dragged by the man who would die by my hand.
“Matteo!” I roared, and then I was on my feet, running toward them.
He struggled to get Layla in the car, and when he aimed his gun in my direction, it was too late. I was already there, knocking the gun out of his hand before I flung my fist, my knuckles connecting with his jaw.
Layla fell against the seat of the car, flaccid and lifeless. I felt the pain straight through to the marrow of each bone as I witnessed how helpless and fragile her body was against the drugs. To them, she was nothing more than a pawn, a weapon to use in this war against us. But to me, she was everything. To me, she was the world, and by using her, Matteo had fucked with what was mine.
In other words, he had to die.
Matteo scurried off the ground, but I kicked my boot into his spine. Like a useless piece of shit, he tried to crawl away from me, but I planted my heel into his back once more. Behind me, I knew the war was raging on. But I only had one goal which drove my every action. One score to settle.
With a snarl, I grabbed the back of Matteo’s jacket before hurling him around. He tried to fight back, but he was no match for the wrath which had taken possession of me. My hate demanded violence. It craved carnage. Every drop of blood that spat from Matteo’s face was ecstasy to me.
I slammed my fist into his face. Again, and again, and again.
If you have to slit the throat of every motherfucker who threatens your woman, then you do it with a goddamn smile on your face.
I pulled the knife from my sleeve, the blade glinting with evil intent. Straddling the son of bitch whose blood now coated my hands, I embraced everything about this moment. I knew it would be a memory I would cherish for the rest of my fucking life. A memory of revenge.
I leaned over him. “Tonight, this war ends with you being sent to the deepest pit of hell.”
He smiled through bloodstained teeth. “I guess I’ll see her there, then.”
I balked, the blade still in hand. “What?’
He laughed maniacally. He just laughed and laughed like a crazy person who knew his time was up.
I jerked him up by his collar. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your little whore just injected herself with an overdose of heroin.”
The wind was knocked right out of me, my spine nothing but layers of ice. “No,” I whispered.
“Oh, yes.” Matteo continued to laugh, blood pissing from his nose and mouth. It wouldn’t stop, the sound of victory that echoed through his laugh. It wouldn’t fucking stop…until I sliced the blade of my knife through the flesh of his throat.
A menacing laugh turned to a dying gurgle of blood. But it didn’t sate my bloodlust. Not even the sight of blood bubbling out of his torn flesh was enough. I lifted the knife, then screamed as I pushed it into his chest, feeling the blade hit bone. It was fucking euphoric, watching the life drain out of wounds inflicted by my knife.
I wanted to cut him open. I wanted to be true to my word by slicing him from nose to navel, but Lucio’s voice pulled me out of my murderous haze.
“Dante! He’s dead.” He pulled me off Matteo’s corpse. “He’s dead, man.”
I searched around me and caught sight of Stefano staring at me before looking down at his dead son. There was nothing. There was no sign of any kind of emotion on his face while he took in the image of the bloodied body of the only child he had left.
When his eyes met mine once again, that was when I saw it. The threat. The promise. The vow for revenge.
I grabbed Lucio’s gun, but when I aimed, Stefano had already jumped into the car. And with screeching tires, he drove away.
Lucio grabbed my shoulder. “I think your girl needs to get to a hospital.”
I rushed over to her still lying on the back seat of the car. Lucio was behind the wheel, starting the engine by the time I closed the door.
“Layla.” I grabbed her chin. “Layla, wake up. Wake up, baby.”
I leaned down, but the sound of my rapid heartbeat made it impossible for me to hear hers. “Please, Layla. Hold on. Just hold on.”
Hold on, Layla.
Please…
Chapter 21
Dante
I couldn’t lie. It had been hard adjusting. Ever since that fateful night, my life had never been the same. None of our lives.
I tried the best I could to move on. To forget the flashing images and relentless memories which did not give up on their pursuit to torture me. Every morning, I would sit at my bedroom window and look out at the sunrise. It was the only time I allowed myself to miss her. Only for those few minutes, I would let my heart bleed for her. After that, I would gather the strength to face the day by staring into my son’s eyes.
Rafe.
My son.
The reason I had to move on.
It had been weeks, yet it still felt surreal. I had a little boy, a boy who not only carried a part of me and a part of her inside him but who was also a symbol of what Layla and I shared.
I had missed so much. His first smile. His first word. His first step. And for a while, I resented how I would never have those memories. But I understood. I understood why Layla had felt the need to run, to protect our son from me, from our family. If I had been told the same lies, I wouldn’t have done it any differently. I would have done everything in my power to keep him safe, which was exactly what she had done. How could I begrudge the choices his mother made when it was her instinct to protect which dictated her actions? So for that, I thanked her. Deep down, I thanked her for only wanting to put our son first. Before herself. Before me. Before us. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
I sat on the bench watching him run around. The sound of his laughter filled the gap in my heart Layla’s absence had left behind. It made the longing worthwhile.
“Daddy, look. Birds.” He jumped up and down with excitement. It wasn’t something I could describe, the way I felt whenever he called me Daddy.
That was probably the day I missed her the most, the day I had to tell him who I was. It was something I wanted to do with her at my side. A moment I wanted to share with her. But unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way. It was something I had to do on my own, and I expected it to be difficult—especially for him. It took me two days to decide which was the best way for me to tell him…until Karina had finally convinced me there was no “best” way to tell a four-and-a-half-year-old that you were the dad he had never known. For Christ’s sake, I was a total stranger to him. All of us were. Even after Layla had taken him to Kate, he was sent to a children’s home to live like an orphan among children he didn’t know. The trauma this tiny boy had to go through…goddammit, just thinking about it made every muscle in my body go taut with anger. It made Matteo’s mutilated face pop into my head, the image soothing away my rage. That was one memory of that night I chose to hold on to. The memory of revenge.
Yet after preparing myself to experience the crying and confusion of a small boy, Rafe surprised me by merely st
aring at me for a few seconds, and then uttered the words which made the tainted heart inside my chest swell.
“I’ve always wanted a daddy.”
That moment made my entire world shift on its axis. The foundation my life had been built on was shaken by five little words—the words of a boy I had now devoted my entire existence to.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Antonio took a seat beside me, his eyes fixed on Rafe chasing the birds. “You two have been spending a lot of time here lately.”
“Yeah. Rafe loves the garden.”
Antonio placed his hand on the bench then glanced around. “I love what you did with it. You know,” he waved around, “the whole re-doing of the back garden.”
I snorted. “Re-doing?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, well. You should thank Karina. She did all this.”
“Our sister will make a good mother someday.”
“She sure will.”
Karina was a godsend through all this. Rafe had immediately taken to her, and even though she couldn’t fully take his mother’s place, she had done a fine job being a substitute while he adapted to his new surroundings. New family.
“How is he doing?” Antonio asked while watching Rafe play.
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. “He misses her.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“I just wish I knew how long it was going to take.”
Antonio placed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t rush it. Give it as much time as it takes to heal.”
I sighed. “I know. I’m trying.”
“You’re doing good, brother. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
I smiled as I glanced at him. “Thanks.” I sat back. “And how are you doing?”
He took a deep breath before pulling his hand through his hair. “Okay, I guess. It all happened so suddenly, with Dad’s death, it’s going to take a while to get a handle on everything.”
“Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
He shifted. “I’ll find him, Dante. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”