Bloodbath

by K. A. Merikan

  He aimed straight at the goon’s chest and pulled the trigger. The impact sent the man back, and straight to the floor, but just as Mark was turning around to shoot Samuel as well, his laser focus was broken by Charlotte’s scream.

  Samuel shoved her at Mark, and all of a sudden, it was her safety that he had to take into account on top of his own. There were two more adversaries he needed to deal with, and her presence made that so much harder. Conflicting ideas of protection and attack were muddling the trail of thought that should only be taking him split seconds.

  He was being too slow. Even as he chose to push Charlotte back into the cell in hope she’d stay there, he knew it gave Samuel’s men an advantage over him.

  Brute force cut him down like a bulldozer. Mark’s bed cushioned the fall, but when his wrist got trapped between the hard metal frame and the goon’s body, he let go of Samuel’s gun, dropping it to the floor. He would have tried to fight the man off somehow, but a large, unforgiving hand closed on Mark’s head and pushed it down hard against the headboard. Thoughts rattled inside Mark’s skull as the world spun before his eyes in colors far too bright.

  The man felt bigger and heavier than he’d looked, pushing at Mark with raw strength. Two more punches rained down on Mark’s back, but when the bastard looped his arm around Mark’s head, Charlotte’s scream brought Mark back to reality. He knew exactly what the man wanted to do now. He’d seen Domenico and Seth perform this move as part of Seth’s training. If he let the goon get a steady enough grip on his head, he’d be done for, dead from a broken neck.

  Instead of trying to push the man away or punch, Mark reached back to the bedside table and grabbed the first thing he got his hand on. A lamp. Mark curled his fingers around its base and smashed it against the fucker’s head. It weakened the man’s grip for just long enough that Mark managed to pull out of the lock.

  In one swift move, Mark snapped the cable out of the power outlet and looped it around the goon’s neck. It took the man by surprise, but the moment he realized he was at a disadvantage, his nasty features scrunched up in fury. Too late. Mark was already pulling, strangling the fucker with all the force he had in him.

  Even with so much of his focus dedicated to staying alive, Mark couldn’t miss the way Charlotte kept calling his name. Samuel rushed into the cell, chasing down Charlotte as if she were a frightened animal running from a tiger. He backed her into the corner in the toilet. She tried to distract him with the long curtain, ripping it off and throwing it at him, but it was no use. The moment Samuel put his hand on her, she was swung over his shoulder, and he carried her out of the cell, ignoring her loud screams.

  Mark shouldn’t have allowed himself the distraction though.

  The goon used his sheer size and force to pull out of Mark’s grip, and rolled off to the bed with the cable still around his neck. But Mark was one step ahead of him, and as the man rose from the floor, Mark stood up on the bed and wrapped his arm around the goon’s neck. He held the head tightly, locking it under his armpit, and despite his strength on its own not being enough, he used his weight to facilitate ample force, just like Miguel had taught him. Mark leaped off the bed, holding the man’s head in a deathly grip.

  The goon’s head twisted, and his neck made a nasty crackle that had Mark’s stomach turning. As soon as the massive body became dead weight in Mark’s hands, Mark let go, and the lifeless collection of flesh and bone tumbled to the floor.

  Without thinking, Mark dove his hand under the dead man’s jacket, fishing out the gun still remaining in its holster. He didn’t even have the luxury to think until he stood up, raising the firearm and ready to use it. And then everything came to a standstill when his gaze zeroed in on Charlotte, who stood with her back to Samuel, curled up as much as she could while the man was holding her close with brute strength. Her fair mane was tossing about, but some of the strands stuck to her reddened cheeks while she sobbed, trying to flinch away from the sharp tip of a large jackknife pressing against her side. Above her, Samuel’s head was dark with a flush of anger. For the first time, he seemed serious, for the first time he saw Mark as a threat to his plans, and he was about to use the one asset he still had without failure.

  Samuel was desperate. Even if he now got Mark to hand over the gun, he was the kind of man who would slit Charlotte’s throat, just for the sake of distraction.

  “Stand down, or I’ll rip her open like a h—!”

  Mark took the shot.

  He couldn’t risk aiming at the bastard’s head, as that would have been too close to Charlotte, but Samuel’s shoulder stuck out like a bullseye, and Mark didn’t miss by an inch. As soon as Samuel flinched back with a scream, Charlotte leaped out of his clutches, and Mark pulled the trigger again, only to find out there were no bullets left in the magazine. He sometimes complained at the uselessness of Dom’s approach to knowing the exact weight of a weapon based on the number of bullets left, but now he knew exactly why his mentor insisted on it.

  Had Samuel’s goon already used the handgun today? What the hell was going on outside?

  There was no time to answer those questions. Mark charged at Samuel, who attempted to open the door in panic.

  Despite being featherweight in comparison to Samuel Moreno’s grown man bulk, Mark managed to get him down in a flash. Moreno tried to punch Mark back with his injured hand, but the movement seemed weak, almost lifeless, and when a flash of understanding went through the man’s so-often-cruel brown eyes, Mark’s hand came down, wielding the gun like it was an ax. The hard steel grip punched Samuel’s skull, making the man’s gaze lose focus, but he still struggled aimlessly, pushing at Mark’s flesh in desperate attempts to get free.

  He would not be going anywhere. Mark was not a pushover, and he would not have Charlotte taken away from him! He smashed the gun against Samuel’s head time and time again, baring his teeth at the fucker. He didn’t blink either. He watched every second of Samuel’s soul crawling out of the man through the broken bone on the side of his head. Mark was not a kid, and he wouldn’t be underestimated.

  He sat back on top of Samuel’s chest, heaving and still steaming with rage, but Samuel Moreno was already dead.

  Mark looked up at Charlotte, but his heart sank when his ears picked up footsteps approaching outside. Of course someone would have heard the shots. When that thought hit him, he was surprised it took so long for anyone to react.

  “Hide under the bed,” he said to Charlotte, scrambling up from the dead body.

  He would save her. He would make it work.

  Chapter 20 - Domenico

  The shorter tunnel from the wine cellar to the villa led them into a storage room. The entrance, disguised as the back of a heavy-duty shelving unit made of steel was additionally hidden away behind two large cardboard boxes, which Dom needed to push off the lowest shelf in order to exit the narrow tunnel. They only managed to all leave the secret passage before explosions shook the floor under their feet.

  There was surprisingly little commotion to be heard beyond the door, and just a few men ran past shouting about explosions close to the walls surrounding the property. When the coast was safe enough, Dom looked out into the corridor, relieved to see they were in the area that was mostly camera free. A smile stretched across his lips when he realized that Mark was not far away.

  Dana had done her job well. With explosives set off along the perimeter, most of Toro’s manpower would have left the house, which minimized the risk of confrontation. Miguel went after Nero Moreno, as he’d declared earlier, and it seemed like a matter of personal pride for him.

  They didn’t need him at the moment, with this area of the house deserted. The men left in such hurry they left the armory door wide open, tempting Domenico with its assault rifles, fat magazines full of bullets, and other goods that would come in handy later. He even spotted infrared goggles!

  The one man they did encounter didn’t quite measure up to Domenico’s skill level, and getting rid of him was as eas
y as taking care of your opponent’s pawns at the start of a game of chess. Still, Domenico knew better than to underestimate potential adversaries, so he checked every corridor before they entered and had Seth keep his eyes on their back, so that no one could follow them unnoticed. They heard some gunshots, but since no other actions followed, it was safe to assume that whoever had been engaged in the standoff, was now injured and no longer part of the game.

  Domenico slowed down at the sight of a guard sitting dead in a puddle of his own blood in the corridor leading to Mark’s quarters.

  Seth took a deep breath and gave Domenico a questioning look. Dom acknowledged his worries with a nod, and they rushed all the way to the room where Mark had lived since their arrival. A bad feeling was spreading in the pit of Dom’s stomach, but he knew he’d deal with whatever hid behind the door. Domenico hoped that they weren’t too late.

  His gaze involuntarily trailed to Seth’s face, which reflected the same helpless worry he felt. With a gesture, he asked Seth to hide behind the wall, and he moved to the other side, pressing his back flat against the cold plaster. Slowly, he knocked, firearm ready to use the moment someone emerged.

  His heart slowed down in preparation for combat, but no one answered, and that was even worse than having to hide from an onslaught of bullets. Domenico swallowed, sensing a hot droplet of sweat trail its way down his spine. He didn’t want to see what surely awaited him inside of that room, but as heavy as the weight of guilt was on his chest, he owed Mark at least that moment of recognition. Of someone closing his immovable eyes and a little bit of dignity in death.

  Mark and Seth both agreed to follow Domenico here, and as much as he appreciated them for it, he knew neither of them had felt like they had a choice in the matter. Any loss of life was on Dom.

  Tormented by the wait, he pushed the door open and entered, gun-first, only to see a black muzzle pointed at his face.

  Domenico’s lungs expanded, and he pushed away the gun, ducking to the other side without thinking. His one hand grabbed the assailant's wrist hard enough to make him drop the firearm as Dom leapt forward, cutting the man’s legs from under him with a single kick.

  Mark dropped to the floor with a yelp, scrambling to get up as soon as he fell, but he froze when their eyes met.

  Seth was right behind Dom, rushing inside with his gun up, but his shoulders sagged when he took in the scene in front of him.

  The carnage didn’t compute in Domenico’s mind yet. Three bodies, blood all over the floor, a broken lamp blinking pathetically, as if it was about to die. The girl was nowhere to be seen either.

  Domenico allowed himself to breathe and roughly pulled Mark up, embracing him as peace slowly returned to his heart. His gaze trailed to Mark’s right hand, untouched, even if smeared with a reddish shade, and he smiled. “Good. You remembered to keep your finger off the trigger. Not broken,” he said and gave Mark a kiss on the cheek, drunk on relief.

  “What happened here?” Seth asked, staring at the body of a man with half of his face bashed in. “Is this… Samuel Moreno?”

  Mark looked between them, breathing hard. “I had to. Fuck. Fuck. There were three of them, and they wanted to take Charlotte away, and I couldn’t let them.” Mark stepped back from Domenico, looking into his eyes with a steel-hard expression. “I’m not letting go of her.”

  Mark’s defiance took Domenico by surprise. He swiped his gaze over the whole room, taking in the mangled bodies of three big men. Still taken aback, he pushed on the door, dragging Samuel Moreno’s barely recognizable head over the tiles.

  “You did all this on your own? Did I get that right?”

  Mark licked his lips, rocking from his toes to his heels. “Y-yes.”

  Seth’s eyes went wider, and he stared at Mark without a word.

  Domenico frowned, examining Mark in more detail, from his slightly hunched posture to the bruise starting to form on his forehead. He hadn’t come out of the fight unscathed, but the preconceptions of his size and age must have given him just the advantage he’d needed.

  “I’m a really good teacher,” Domenico said, squeezing Mark’s shoulder. “Impressive. It really is,” he continued, unsure how he felt about all this.

  Seth took a step over Moreno’s outstretched arm. “Where is she then?”

  Mark straightened up but it didn’t make tension leave his set shoulders, and Domenico was struggling to assess what angle to take when talking to him now. “You can come out,” Mark said, and a pale, trembling hand reached out from under the bed.

  Domenico took a deep breath, watching the girl slide out of her hideout. She looked back at them from behind a curtain of the palest blonde hair. She moved as if she hadn’t been more frightened in her life, and even when she stood up, her body seemed so frail it could break from even the tiniest gust of wind.

  Mark’s young face had the same determined expression, but when he glanced at Charlotte, a softness appeared in his eyes that Domenico hadn’t yet encountered in Mark. He has seen it reflected back at him though. When he and Seth were together.

  He chewed on his lip, torn on this whole issue, but if Mark was so determined to keep this flimsy girl at his side, could Domenico make him give up on her? Of course, there was the stab of anger at Mark defying his instructions, but hadn’t Domenico defied his own orders when he chose to run away with Seth?

  He might not enjoy a woman around—one that wasn’t even as strong willed and focused as Dana was—but he was positive that it would eventually blow over. Mark wanted to be a prince, to feel useful. To feel like a good person. If he was allowed that, he might eventually come to his senses, but if Domenico opposed him after Mark had risked his life to save the girl, it was more likely his irrational devotion to her would grow even stronger.

  “I’m not letting her be taken anywhere,” Mark said, squeezing her hand. As strange as it was, the conviction behind his words made him seem physically taller. Domenico couldn’t help but appreciate Mark’s determination, no matter how misguided it was. When Dom looked at him now, he didn’t see a stubborn kid but a glimpse of the man who Mark would eventually become. Standing up for what he believed was right, even if it could cost him dearly.

  Domenico glanced at Seth, who watched the young couple with softened eyes. When he met Dom’s gaze, it was as if he too was wordlessly supporting Mark’s plea.

  Domenico cleared his throat and spoke in English, so as not to alienate the girl. “You mean... you want her to stay with us?”

  Her frightened gaze made him groan. He wanted to include her as a spectator, not ask for her opinion.

  Mark cleared his throat. “No. We’re going together. Her parents have this massive house. I’d have a place to stay at first, and we could be together in England.”

  Domenico almost took a step back, steadying himself against that blow. He didn’t think of himself as a very emotional man, but the sense of betrayal was already worming its way through his heart. Was this how Tassa had felt when he found out about Domenico’s defiance in the face of orders? “You choose her over us?” he asked quietly.

  Mark ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not like that. The two of you changed my life. I just… being with her is about something else than the relationship I have with you.”

  Just like no matter how much Domenico loved his mother, he still chose to risk never seeing her again if it meant being with Seth. How could he pretend that he didn’t understand Mark’s feelings?

  Still, it hurt that Charlotte could pull Mark away from their little family after the short time the two had spent together. “You know what this means? We will likely never speak again.”

  Charlotte sniffed and rubbed her eyes, so Mark quickly pulled her closer before looking back to Domenico.

  “You will let us leave?” It sounded like Mark hadn’t expected that decision. What did he imagine then? That Domenico would throw the girl into the river in cement shoes and make him stay?

  “I’m sorry to interrupt
this tearful scene, but I think we need to have a chat,” said someone from the corridor, prompting both Dom and Seth to raise their firearms and pull away from the entrance.

  Charlotte shrieked and ran to the sofa, hiding behind it in utter fear. The voice was heavily accented, and the raw, low sound of it had shudders running down Domenico’s back.

  The door was left wide open when all three of them backed away from it, ready to shoot the intruder dead, but as the footsteps approached, it became clear it was not one but two people walking in heavy boots.

  Domenico gestured at Seth to duck lower behind the fallen coffee table, but he remained standing to have the clearest shot. His heart trembled as he watched a faint shadow form on the floor outside the room.

  But it was Miguel, not Nero, who walked in first. Hands tied in front of his body, and with a gag in his mouth, his black eyes spoke of rage so endless it was about to spill out and cover the whole room in darkness.

  Nero was right behind Miguel, with a fat gun pointed at the back of Miguel’s head. It didn’t take him long to register the bodies scattered around the room. “I see you’ve crashed my party. You Italians are such naughty men,” he said, leading Miguel inside by the waist and likely pressing his hips against him too.

  “Your brother started it,” Domenico said, pointing his gun at Nero, but the bastard was smart enough to align his head with Miguel’s, so there was no chance for a quick kill. All that remained for Domenico was to wait and be ready.

  Nero took his time to answer. “Did he take the girl?”

  “No, he’s making your shoes sticky,” Dom said, hoping this would be enough of a distraction to sway Nero’s focus.

  But no, Nero pushed Miguel farther into the room and kicked at the door, revealing the crushed head. The red blood stuck to the sole of his boots like a stain that would likely never go away. “Oh, snap,” said Nero in a mocking tone. “You got me there. I wouldn’t have recognized him if you hadn’t told me. Even uglier than when he was alive.”