Page 149 of The Don’s Omega

Ignoring his vitriol, I take the stairs two at a time, leaving Carlo to watch the others. The upstairs hallway is dim, a runner on the hardwood, oil paintings on the walls. The last door on the right is closed so I open it.

Elio is on a narrow bed, on his side. His face is bruised, purple spots darkening along his left cheekbone. There’s a split in his lower lip, swollen and crusted with blood. His knuckles are raw, both hands, the skin torn across the ridges. There’s a red mark across his throat that looks like a handprint and anger rises in me. It’s obvious he fought hard, but he’s half the size of the thug downstairs.

I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed. Elio is unconscious, his chest rising and falling in shallow movements. One hand rests protectively over the baby bump, and his hair is matted with sweat and blood. Furious that Salvatore dared to lay a finger on him, I clamp my jaw so hard my teeth ache.

I put my hand on his throat, gently, avoiding the bruises. His skin is warm and his pulse steady under my fingertips. He doesn’t stir, which worries me.

“Elio,” I whisper. “Tesoro. I’m here.”

Nothing. He’s out cold. It’s obvious he fought with everything he had. His torn knuckles and split lip tell me that much. Elio is tough, but he didn’t grow up in this world. He’s not used to brawling with thugs who have fifty pounds of muscle on him. I push down my rage because what matters now is to get him to a doctor so he can be checked over.

Then I’ll handle Salvatore.

I make a quick call for Dante to come to Salvatore’s home. Next, I gather Elio carefully, one arm under his knees and one behind his shoulders, and I lift him. His head falls against my chest. He’s light and I feel sick thinking about him going up against that guy downstairs. He must have been so scared. So hopeless. I was supposed to protect him, but I failed him.

I carefully carry Elio down the stairs. Carlo has Turi at gunpoint near the wall, while Salvatore stands beside them, his hands at his sides, looking angry and defiant. His expression changes when he sees Elio in my arms. Something like shame flickers in his eyes as he takes in Elio’s unconscious form. But the moment he realizes I’m watching him, the defiant mask slips back into place.

I meet Carlo’s gaze. “Dante will be here in a minute to take Elio to Dr. Quirino. Salvatore comes with me, his muscle stays here. Make it so he can’t follow.”

“You got it.” Carlo drives the butt of his gun into the base of the guy’s skull. The burly man goes down like a felled redwood and hits the floor face-first.

On my way past them, I kick the guy in the ribs two times. Hard. That’s what he gets for beating up my pregnant omega. Lucky for him I’m a reasonable man. He’s just a soldier doing his job. The blame for what happened to Elio lies with Salvatore, or he’d get way worse than a kick in the ribs.

Carlo grabs Salvatore by the back of the neck and marches him toward the door. Salvatore doesn’t resist. Carlo zip-ties Salvatore’s hands and puts him in the back of our SUV. Five minutes later, Dante drives up and we carefully put Elio in the back of his vehicle. I kiss Elio softly and leave him in Dante’s capable hands.

****

The warehouse is chilled, the scent of the sea outside permeating the dimly lit room. Carlo puts Salvatore in the chair and cuts off the zip-ties. He’s not going anywhere. There’s nowhere to run. The older man sits with his hands on his thighs, his back straight, staring at me with an obstinate expression.

I pull a chair over and sit across from him. “Talk. What the hell is this all about, Salvatore? Why the fuck would you come after my omega?”

Salvatore is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “I think you know why.”

“I have no idea what you were hoping to accomplish. If this was a grab for power it’s the lamest grab I’ve ever seen. You thought you could beat up or murder my omega in your house and get away with that?”

He scowls. “I never intended to do anything at my house.”

Carlo frowns. “Then why were you holding Elio there?”

Salvatore grimaces. “Elio showed up uninvited. You think I’m so stupid I’d bring him there on purpose?”

“All I know is he was there and it’s obvious your man worked him over.”

Salvatore laughs harshly. “Trust me, the little asshole gave as good as he got.”

“Good,” Carlo growls. “How dare you put your hands on Marcello Foschini’s omega. You must’ve lost your mind, old man.”

Glancing at Carlo, Salvatore sneers. “Of course I dare. Foschinis bleed and die just like any other mortal.”

I clench my jaw, holding my anger back. “Is that what you want, Salvatore? For all Foschinis to bleed and die?”

His face twitches. “I want justice, that’s what I want. Justice for my son.”

“For your son?” Carlo repeats.

Salvatore snarls, “That’s right. Revenge is my right and my duty.”

“And you think hurting Elio and my unborn child will give you that?” I give a confused laugh. “I’m not sure how you came to that conclusion.”