by S. M. Soto
I chuckle darkly. “Turned out good for her, didn’t it?”
Matteo’s eyes narrow and a smirk tugs at his lips. It’s filled with hate. With malicious intent. “I trained you to make you stronger. To keep you alive. To ready you for this life.” he drags his gaze up and down. “I see none of that has helped. You’re still weak. Still fucking soft and you want to know why? Because you’re like your mother,” he seethes. “You thought you could win and were invincible, but you’re not! The fact that you think you can keep both of them safe is irresponsible! You’ll never be prepared for the disaster. You’ll think you have every angle figured out, every man on her, but the minute she’s taken from you? The minute they both are? You’ll realize how weak you were and how even though you tried, even though you gave it your all, it still wasn’t enough to keep them safe. Now, get back to work and kill the rest of Grigori’s bloodline. I want an example made of his men, and if you can’t do that? I’ll make an example out of you, figlio.”
With that, he calmly slips out of his office, the smoke trailing behind him and I realize we’re no longer talking about me and Sophia. We’re talking about my mother.
His words unsettled me. I was doing everything I could to keep an eye out for Finlay, to keep an eye on the underworld, to protect my girl from anyone who may try to harm her, but my biggest fear was history repeating itself. My biggest fear wasn’t dying. It wasn’t losing my men. It was losing Sophia and our baby. And he was right. It did make me weak.
Sophia was my weakness. She made me irrational, more prone to human mistakes than I’d ever been before I met her. And I refused to let them see my weakness. Having a baby—a fucking kid in this life will surely put me in an early grave with worry and concern, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting this little piece of life. A piece of Sophia that shares not just half of her characteristics, but mine too. I don’t know when it happened, when she managed to burrow so deep in my heart, it only beat for her, but she did the impossible. She made me feel. She made me love.
And if anyone tries to take that from me? I’ll fucking murder them.
That’s exactly why I’m doing this. Ending the Bratva bloodline before they have a chance to end mine. I’ll protect them from any peril, anyone who even dares speak ill of my girl or threaten her. And right now? Everyone in the underworld of Chicago and beyond is a threat.
“Kill him, then we leave. We’ll handle the rest of them later.”
Lorenzo gives me a look. One that says he wants to say more. About how stupid I’m being, about how taking them all out now, before things escalate further is the smart thing to do, but I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t think about anything but Sophia out at that park, in danger. Wisely, he keeps his mouth shut. I raise my Glock, fire off a single bullet into Sergei’s head and start making calls.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Clarence asks from beside me as we creep around the block, coming up on Lincoln and Webster, my sights set on the park before us. Gunfire echoes in the distance. With each pop, the tension builds, and my anger rises. I can feel the tendons and muscles in my body cording with anger. I scan my eyes around the neighborhood, lingering on the brownstones we’re creeping around, no doubt people inside have already called the authorities. I have that settled though. I couldn’t take the chance of Finlay or anyone else in the underworld planting men in those brownstones and having eyes on my girl. Earlier, when I made calls, I had my men slip inside each building, each home, ready to take out any threat or anyone that served as a potential threat. When I glance back at the park, a tremor runs down my spine at how deserted it looks, save for the hulking men carrying weapons.
I knew this was going to happen. The minute Matteo told me she was going to the park, leaving the estate, I knew Finlay would strike. He’d be stupid not to. After some calls, I made more arrangements—reached out to all my contacts. Our men would go with her, but what they didn’t know? I brought in more security. They were instructed to stay unseen unless something happened. Reaching out to Ricky’s brother, Wulferic Porter was easy. He wanted revenge, the whole MC did. And if this was their gateway into making those men pay for Ricky’s death, he said he was in. The rest of the team was able to get to Finlay’s strategically placed snipers in time. That motherfucker was more prepared than I thought. Too bad for him, I know what lengths he’s willing to go to—he’d do anything to get his hands on my girl. He didn’t realize I’d go through more to keep her. To protect what’s mine.
“Two steps ahead, Clarence. Always.”
We storm the park, and I scour the grass looking for my girl. Clarence, Kameron, and Jose break off toward Garrett and the rest as backup. When I don’t spot her right away, but I find the group of Wulferic’s men huddled together, protecting someone, I know she’s there. I fire off round after round into unsuspecting men. Bodies drop to the grass. I keep going until I’ve eaten up the distance between me and Sophia. When I finally spot her, anger surges through my veins at the scene unfolding. I break into a run, my gaze riveted on her.
She gets knocked back, and I sprint harder as I watch her fall almost in slow motion. Reaching her just before her body smacks the ground, I haul her up, my fingers curling around her bicep, yanking her toward me. And when she looks up at me, time slows. I let her see how angry I am. How worried I was about her.
What the fuck were you thinking? It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t have time to scold her right now.
With my sights set on Finlay, I feel the blood in my veins boiling with anger when he speaks to me, his gaze roaming over my girl.
“I could end it all right now, put a bullet in her and be done with it.” Finlay laughs darkly, as his men close in on our group. He has a decent amount of men and firepower with him, but what he wasn’t banking on? Me.
Loosening my hold on Sophia, I subtly scoot her behind me and push through the guys, eating up the distance between me and Finlay. I feel Sophia tug on my arm and take a step forward, probably trying to get me to stay back.
Not fucking happening.
I’m ending this shit once and for all.
“I told you once before, I was going to enjoy killing you. That hasn’t changed.”
He threatened her life—my fucking son’s life—time and time again; after today, he’ll never have the chance to do it again. Not going to fucking happen.
A cruel, sadistic grin spreads across Finlay’s face as he tosses his weapon onto the grass somewhere beside him and cracks his neck from side to side, taking a fighting stance. It would be so easy to shoot him, point blank, right now and end it all. But where’s the fun in that? I want to feel his bones crunch beneath my skin. Feel his blood coat my hands. Bloodlust swims through my veins and a calm settles into my bones. Now, this, inflicting pain upon him with my fists is what I live for.
Pocketing my gun, I charge him, ramming my body into his and start swinging. I land a right hook against his cheek and bash my other fist into the side of his body, relishing in his hiss of pain and the crack of his ribs. We sail to the ground, and Finlay swings out, jabbing me with his fist and bashing his elbow in my face. Like a flip switching inside me, a haze of rage consumes me, stealing over my vision as I rain blows down on his face, holding him down with my weight. Blood coats his face from his busted nose, the split skin above his eyebrow is leaking in a steady stream, and both his top and bottom lips are busted. When Finlay slows his struggle and his fight beneath me, I raise my fist back, ready to lay him out once and for all when a strong grip latches onto my fist and tugs. Following the momentum, I roll off Finlay and growl when two of his men charge me.
Shooting to my feet, I turn to the first guy and swing, landing a solid blow to the temple that jars him. I swing back around to the other guy and jab him square in the face, his nose crunching beneath my fist. My left arm sails toward the side of his head, landing a left hook. He stumbles back, and I use this opportunity to jab my booted foot against his knee and snap his leg. Wh
en I turn back around to finish off the other guy, his fist sails toward my face and another man appears. Ignoring the pain of the blow against my skin. I swing, relishing in the crack of bone and the spurt of blood. My fists rain down on him and the other guy, and for once, I’m not so upset I was tortured as a child—nothing could’ve prepared me more for this.
I fight off the three men at once and I dart my gaze down, ice flooding my veins when I don’t see Finlay sprawled across the ground any longer.
Fuck. Where did the bastard go?
Not really paying attention, I scan the area for Finlay and the distraction is enough that one of them is able to get his arms wrapped around me from behind and the other two manage to use my body as a punching bag. I tighten my ab muscles taking each strike as they swing on me.
My blood roars violently through my veins, so strong I can hear it. Just over that, I can hear someone yelling out to Sophia. The urgency in his tone is enough to have me breaking out of the hold and reaching for my gun, done with this shit. Cocking back the slide, I fire off two shots in quick succession and whirl around slamming my elbow into the man that was holding me and firing off another shot into his head.
My eyes scan the bloody chaos surrounding us and a soul consuming anger spreads through my chest and into my veins when I spot Sophia on the floor, and Finlay pointing a gun at her. It all happens in slow motion. The way the earth shifts and tilts as I try to run after her to make it in time. I don’t hear anything save for the blood roaring in my ears. Just when I’m close enough to Finlay that I can practically taste the smell of his blood when I kill him, he fires off a shot and the strangest thing happens. My chest squeezes and iciness travels down the center, making it hard to breathe. My heart stops beating altogether and when I steel myself to look down at Sophia, I expect to see blood. I expect to see my heart ripped out of my chest alongside her. Images of my mother’s cold body, her lifeless eyes slam into me, but when I look, that dagger sifting through my organs freezes when I see Matteo in front of her body.
Instead of going to my girl like I know I should—this time, I do what I should’ve done when we were in England, I come up behind Finlay and press the barrel of my gun against his skull. Lorenzo growls as he steps forward, snatching the gun out of Finlay’s hand. He’s not getting away this time. This time he’s mine. Mine to torture. Mine to kill. My thoughts fill with all the ways I’m going to make him pay. All the ways our men, lthe famiglia, are going to make him suffer.
I feel the fight leave Finlay’s body, and when it does, I glance toward Sophia, finding her leaning over Matteo, saying something to him. I shove Finlay away toward Monte, Clarence, and the rest of the guys. Once they have a solid hold on him, I swing the butt of my Glock down on his face and his body goes slack. I instruct the guys to take his unconscious form and head back to the estate.
I close in on Sophia, and can’t help but glance down at Matteo. A shot to the chest is as close to a death sentence as one can get, but I try not to dwell on it too long, my main focus is Sophia. When I get a good look at her head and the blood matted to her skin and hair, I just about lose my shit. I grit my teeth, my upper lip curling with rage.
Through narrowed slits, I scan our surroundings and take in the line of Finlay’s men resting on their knees, held at gunpoint. Jose and Monte glance at me in silent question and all I give is a single nod of my head. I scoop Sophia into my arms and start barking orders when I hear the sound of sirens. As we walk away from the carnage surrounding us, I hear five distinct shots and when I look back, I’m not surprised, but still satisfied. Finlay’s men are now dead, as they rightfully should be, for laying a hand on my girl.
I turn back around, settling Sophia in the vehicle, keeping my tumultuous thoughts to myself. If Matteo is dead, shit is going to get real. Not only that, once the authorities stumble across the bodies littered through every square inch of this park, they’ll come knocking at our door. It doesn’t matter that we have half the department in our pocket and on our payroll, innocent bystanders already witnessed most of it, and we’ll have to be ready.
After Dr. Chang gives Sophia and the baby a thorough examination, that unbearable weight crushing my chest finally lifts, and I breathe a little easier. They’re both okay and that’s all that matters.
With a soft peck on Sophia’s forehead, I caress her cheek with the pad of my thumb and relish in the smoothness of her skin. She looks up at me with those bright green orbs, fatigue circled under her eyes.
Giving her some time to rest, I walk out of the room with Dr. Chang, and I’m not surprised when I see Alexis round the corner, but before she’s able to burst into the room, I stop her.
“Under no circumstances is she to get out of that bed unless it’s to pee, got me?”
Alexis works a swallow, but she nods before bursting inside. I puff out a sigh of relief in knowing Sophia will be able to spend time with Alexis and not concern herself with anything else. Her friend is still wary of me, probably because of who I am and what I do. Not that I blame her.
Dr. Chang and I walk away from the door and down the hall toward the medical room.
“How is he?”
“Alive. For now,” he replies, no need to bullshit me with promises that he’ll be okay. Because anything can happen. He may be stable now and alive, but that could change and I’ll be prepared when it does.
“They still working on him?”
Dr. Chang nods. “They’ll be in there for a while. The bullet barely missed his heart, but it did puncture his lung. They were able to get it out, but he’s still not out of the woods yet.”
I’m not surprised. I thought as much.
“You can’t let anything like that happen again. Today was a close call. For all of you. I don’t see anyone coming out unscathed if this happens again.”
I don’t like someone trying to tell me what to do. Lecturing me. But this time, I don’t argue or even get angry, because he’s right. This time was too close of a call. And if Matteo hadn’t jumped in front of the bullet in time, they’d both be gone. I’m giving her time to heal and focus on the baby right now, but once she’s better, we’re going to have a long chat about her safety and I can guarantee, she won’t like it.
“I know,” is all I can manage to say.
Once my father is in the clear, I’ll check on him, but right now, I have more pressing matters, and he’s currently strapped to a chair in the basement. With the grime of death from earlier still coating my skin and clothes, I bypass the foyer and slip down the hall of the west wing and nod to the two soldiers guarding the door that leads down into the basement. I wasn’t taking any chances this time around, and if placing two of my father’s soldiers—Luca and Vincenzo—in front of the exit to keep anyone from slipping in or out is what I have to do to ensure Sophia’s safety? I’ll fucking do it. I slip past them, down the concrete stairs and stop at the heavy metal door that leads inside. Alberto and Francesco—more soldiers from the Outfit—stand vigil in front of this door too and nod as I brush past them inside what is known as our execution room.
I wouldn’t normally be so trusting. It goes against every fiber of my being to let anyone but me guard these basement doors, but after today, after the Capo has taken a bullet, the famiglia will want revenge just as much as I do. All out of loyalty to my father.
That’s how I know these men will guard these doors with their lives.
Finlay is strapped to a chair, much like Danilo was the last time I was in here. I haven’t been back down here since that night. Since I let the darkness consume half my soul as I chopped, grated, and dismembered a body and wrapped the bloody pieces, sending each one off to the other families and enemies. One would think having your tongue cut out of your mouth is enough to kill you. And normally, it is. With all the blood one loses, but this time, with Danilo, it wasn’t.
I close my eyes remembering the way Danilo choked on his blood and made these gurgling noises until he went completely silent. I thought he was de
ad, but he was only unconscious. Blood loss will do that to you. So when I went to work on his body, cutting through skin and tearing through bone and his eyes flung open, his agony staring me deep in the eyes, it was like that black ink, that familiar darkness, was spilling inside of me. Tainting me from the inside out.
He couldn’t even scream for help, for me to stop. All he could do was let out the mewls of absolute horror as I ripped through bone and tore through his skin. Nothing blackens a man’s soul more than dismembering a man who is still very much alive. But being down here, especially with this bastard, I’m oddly looking forward to the many methods of torture I plan on inflicting upon him. I can’t wait to spill blood and listen to his screams. It won’t be like Danilo’s. It’ll be much slower. Drawn out. I want Finlay to feel pain on a cellular level. I want him to beg for his life. And I want to hear every second of that begging.
I walk around him, gathering my thoughts, breathing through my anger until I stop in front of him. As I stare down at him, I picture a pregnant Sophia hurt. I picture her afraid. I picture her too weak to fight back. I see all the bruises they left on her skin. All the ways he tried to touch her. Touch what was fucking mine. He tried to get rid of my child. My fucking son. A growl reverberates in my chest and the sound rouses him. I clench and unclench my fists, the bloodlust swimming something fierce through my veins.
My nostrils flare, and I work to keep my temper under control. I need to be calm for this. If I let my anger drive me, I’ll end up snapping his neck and killing him too quickly.
“Isn’t this a bloody sad turn of events,” Finlay rasps, chuckling darkly, one eye swollen shut and dried blood crusted all over his face. By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll look a lot worse. There will be nothing left but bone once I’m through with Finlay.
“Indeed, it is.”
I watch him, already thinking of what I’ll do to him first. He’s already taken a beating from my fists today back at the park. I’m wondering if we should go another round, unleashing my anger on every square inch of his face and body. I can just as easily find another way to torture him today or save it for tomorrow.
