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“She’ll die if you kill me.”
“So you said.” I get ready to squeeze the trigger.
“Let’s talk about this,” Garibaldi says, an oily smile on his lips. “How much do you want? Five hundred million to walk away. A billion? Rights to the city? Please.” He starts to sob. “Don’t do this. You can have it all. My entire business.”
“It’s not about business,” I reply. “You made it personal.” Then I pull the trigger.
He falls, wounded, his moan of pain a bitter symphony to my ears as my men wipe out his guards. “I’ll save her,” I say, taking the key gripped tightly in his hand. “Then you die.”
In this moment, as I search for Jess, I understand the true strength that comes from love. It’s not the absence of fear, but the knowledge that some things are worth more than vengeance, more than pride.
It’s the realization that in choosing her, I’ve chosen to be a better version of myself.
And as I move forward, driven by the beacon of hope that is the love we share, I know that no matter what lies ahead, I’ve already won.
The tracker’s persistent beep guides me through more damp rooms until I’m standing before a nondescript door that feels more like a gateway to hell than just another room in this godforsaken place.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a frenzied rhythm fueled by fear, anger, and an unyielding determination to save Jess.
Without hesitation, I unlock the door, my every sense on high alert. The scene that unfolds before me is one I’ve replayed in nightmares since the moment I knew Jess was taken.
There she is, the center of my universe, her vibrant spirit dimmed by the shadow of a gun pressed against her temple.
And behind that gun, her father, a man whose betrayal cuts deeper than any enemy’s blade could.
“Let her go,” I say. “It’s over.”
He snorts loudly. “I let her go and you kill me. Fuck you, Alessandro. Tell your men to stay out.”
I wave my crew back from the doorway.
“She’s your child,” I spit out the words like venom, my gaze locked on him, the man who’s supposed to protect her above all others. “You’re supposed to take care of her, you fuck.”
“She is my property. I can do what I want with her,” he retorts, his voice cold and devoid of any paternal warmth.
It’s a declaration so vile it sends a wave of disgust crashing through me. “She’s a nasty ungrateful fat little bitch, just like her mother. Now she’s going to watch you die and she’s not going to do anything and you know why? Because I know her. She’s a weak pathetic girl and I’m a fucking winner. Me. I win, you bastard.”
“You don’t have to die,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. It’s a plea for him to see reason, a chance for him to walk away from the edge of the abyss he’s teetering on. “I will let you go.”
His response is a sneer, the arrogance of a man who’s gambled everything on a losing hand. “Put the gun down, or she dies,” he demands, his confidence unshaken even in the face of his impending downfall.
Jess gives me a slight nod. I know exactly what she’s trying to tell me.
With a heavy heart, I lay my gun down, a silent vow to Jess that I’ll do whatever it takes to save her.
Her father laughs. “You’ve changed for the worse. The old you would never have trusted an enemy. She’s weakened you,” he taunts, mistaking my surrender for weakness.
He points the gun my way. “Goodbye Alessandro.” Then he pulls the trigger.
TWENTY-FIVE
Jess
“No,” I scream, a raw burst of defiance, as I wrench the gun upward. The bullet tears into the ceiling, sending plaster cascading down onto my head. My heart is a wild thing in my chest, adrenaline igniting my blood.
The accusations, the venom dripping from my father’s words, accusing me of weakness, ignite something fierce within me, a rage that’s both terrifying and exhilarating.
“Weak? Pathetic?” The words echo in my skull, not as labels I accept, but as challenges I refuse. My body is a tight coil of energy, every muscle tensed for action. I’m not the frightened child I once was, trembling under the shadow of his disapproval.
