by Bella J.
We’d never claimed to be saints. To some people, there was no such thing as a big or small sin. Wrong was wrong. But in my opinion…who in the name of ever-loving fuck thought that way? How could one argue there was no scale when it came to wrongdoing? That was like saying a rapist had done equal wrong as the man who cheated on his wife. Bullshit. No matter who said what, I believed sin could be measured. And it was because of this I knew the Mancusos were far higher on the wrongdoing scale than we were.
Yes, we bought illegal firearms.
Yes, we sold illegal firearms. Those were our family’s devil horns, but our halo was the fact that we supplied said illegal firearms to countries who fucking needed it. Countries where civil war was a reality. Countries which needed someone to break the fucking law, and to be sinners in the eyes of man so they had means to survive. So, yes, we weren’t saints. We were dirty bastards who couldn’t afford to have a conscience so the less fortunate had an evenhanded chance in this unfair thing we called life.
This was our city. We ruined. We ruled. But what set us apart from people like the Mancusos, we didn’t just take. We gave back to those who needed it most. We protected those who couldn’t protect themselves.
I glanced at my father sitting in the passenger seat. The drugs. The ruined lives. It was fucking with him in the worst kind of way. These were our people who needed our protection. Drugs soiling the streets meant we weren’t doing our jobs, and my father took that personally. All of us did.
But right now, this went beyond personal. They took what was mine. Touched what was mine. Harmed what was mine. And now…they had to die.
“How are you doing, son?”
I checked the rearview mirror, Antonio and Lucio driving behind us. “Oh, I’m fucking peachy.”
“Stop the bullshit, Dante. I know you’re angry, hurt, and probably confused as hell.”
I snorted. “Confused? Now, why would I be confused? Two days ago, I was living a bachelor’s life, and now I’m on my way to put some bullets in a few Italian cocksuckers’ skulls. Oh, and of course, I’m a father now too…apparently.” I shrugged. “Nothing to be confused about at all.”
“Sarcasm. It’s always been your best line of defense.” He looked out his side window. “But I’m afraid this time it’s not going to work.”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. The anger was simmering, threatening to erupt, to destroy everything in its path. But it needed to be contained, controlled until it could be unleashed on the fuckers who deserved it.
“Rafe,” I heard my father say. “The name, it means counsel of the wolf.”
The murderous thoughts inside my head stopped, the hate silenced.
“Rafe,” I whispered. “Rafe.” Layla managed to hide a part of my heritage in his name. My son. My boy.
Oh. My. God.
I had a son. I actually had a son. This was no longer just me and Layla. I was no longer going to try to save the woman I loved. I was going to do everything in my goddamn power to get back the mother of my child. It wasn’t about me anymore, about how desperately I wanted her back, safe here with me. It was about him. Rafe. How he needed his mother. How I would storm through the gates of hell to make sure he didn’t have to live a life without a mother. Without a father…without me.
I stepped on the gas, swerved around corners, and ignored every red light the best I could. My father hated speed, but he knew now was not the time to preach about it.
“Is Castello’s team there?”
My father looked at his phone. “Yes. Everyone is in position.”
“Good.”
More speed. More determination. More deadly contemplations. With every breath and every beat of my blackened heart, I embraced the hate, the rage, the undeniable vehemence of my lust to kill every motherfucker who did her wrong. I would not rest until I slaughtered each and every bastard who dared to lay a finger on my woman.
As we approached the entrance of the harbor, I didn’t slow down. The boom lifted, and I raced inside with screeching tires, Antonio close behind.
“Dad.”
We glanced at each other.
“This ends tonight.” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “I’m ending this war tonight.”
He nodded, his eyes conveying his approval. Like me, he knew this had gone on for long enough. They had ruined enough lives. But their worst mistake? Trying to ruin my life. Her life. Our life.
As we approached the warehouse, about half a dozen SUVs parked outside, I felt the adrenaline pumping through my veins, crashing against bone.
Switching off the ignition and getting out of the car happened all at the same time. The dark, heavy clouds which started to cover the colors of sunset created an even more ominous feel. It was like I could smell the mayhem, the chaos…the death in the air. For years, I had killed and disposed. I embraced the darkness of the hole which was left in my chest after Layla ripped my heart out. But when she came storming back into my life, she reminded me of the man I once was. How I had loved her with all my heart. And for the one night we had shared together, I cherished every moment because it felt good being that man again…for her. But tonight I would be the heartless son of a bitch again, only this time it would be for her instead of because of her. Kill and dispose.
Antonio got out of the car. “Lorik just called. He’s got Karina safely out of town.”
“Good. One less thing to worry about.” I looked around. “Where’s the cargo?”
Lucio joined us. “It’s inside the warehouse.”
“And the Mancusos?” I hardly finished my question when a convoy of Bentleys came driving toward us.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Lucio reach for his gun, but I stopped him. “Not yet. Not until we know Layla is safe.”
“Oh, come on. I’ve been psyching myself up the entire way here.”
My response was a glare which silently told him to cut the crap.
The cars stopped, one next to the other. I buttoned my suit jacket, my shoulders squared and my hatred raw. I hoped to God they weren’t under the impression that we were here to negotiate. It was simple. They had to give me back my woman…and then we torched their fucking drugs.
Antonio stepped in next to me, menace swirling around us as if the devil himself had joined our little carnival of conflict.
“You ready?”
I inhaled deeply. “Oh, I’m ready.”
My dad stepped up front, but I grabbed his hand. “This not your fight, Father.”
“Whenever it concerns one of my children, it’s my fight.”
He turned back, and we all watched as Stefano emerged from the car. Antonio let out a low snarl next to me, and my fists balled at my sides.
“Lorenzo,” Stefano started, “mind telling me what this is all about?”
“You know what this is about.”
He looked at me and my brother before turning his attention back to my father. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Where is she, Stefano?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
It had only been two minutes, and I was done waiting.
I brushed past my dad, glaring at Stefano. “Layla. Where is she?”
His eyebrows knit together. “Please tell me this isn’t all about jealousy.”
“Where is she?”
“My dear boy, you have to accept that Layla is with my son now.”
“Bullshit!”
Stefano remained cool and aloof while he stood a few feet behind his bodyguards. “Clearly, you still need to learn how to accept defeat.”
My jaw clenched, and my heart was about to claw its way out of my throat.
“Where is she?” I stepped forward. My deadly intent was obvious, and his bodyguards moved toward me. It took all but a split second for Lucio and Antonio to flank me, weapons in hand.
Stefano grinned. “Come, now, gentlemen. There’s no need for violence. Just give me my cargo, and we c
an go our separate ways.”
“Not before you give me Layla.”
He frowned. “Do not test me, boy. Lorenzo,” he spoke to my father but didn’t take his eyes off me, “I would advise you to tell your son to back off, and to leave the business side of things to us.”
“Layla is not business!” I snapped. “She is not business. She is fucking personal.”
Stefano studied me, his eyes raking over my face, nostrils flaring. I was pissing him off. Good.
I cocked my head. “Give me Layla, and you can have your precious cargo.”
“Oh, come now, Dante. You and I both know you’re not planning on giving me my cargo.”
Smart motherfucker.
The sound of a car grabbed our attention, and I bit down on my cheeks as I watched it approach us. Even though my attention was on the car, I was hyperaware of every man currently taking part in this standoff.
Stefano righted himself and straightening the sleeves of his jacket. “It seems you’re having difficulty accepting that Layla has moved on with my son. Maybe he can convince you.”
The car stopped, and my heart beat wildly inside my chest as I watched Matteo get out. If hate had a moment in time, this would be it. The sight of his ugly motherfucking face made me want to rip out his goddamn spine through his throat. It took every shred of self-control not to end him right there and then.
My hand itched, the weight of my gun at my back making me aware of how much I wanted to put a bullet in his skull. And the smug grin he had on his face as he got out of the car made the urge to kill him even stronger.
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.