Page 140 of The Savage

Blessed reinforcements, though a little too late.

Cesare appears out of the dark on my left, cold as winter, already firing to finish off what I think are stragglers.

Right before fresh gunfire erupts.

Fuck. Reinforcements aren’t one-sided. Apparently.

Rafa appears on my right, grinning like the lunatic angel of death he is. Dante strides through smoke and blood like he’s late to dinner, putting single bullets where faces used to be.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ Rafa calls. ‘But better late than dead, huh?’

“Sure. Whatever, pretty boy.”

He grunts and I grin.

Another five minutes of fire and shouts and bones breaking and the remaining men break.

They don’t get far.

When it’s over, the street and alley resembles a slaughterhouse, stone slick with blood, the air thick with cordite and iron. My men hold the perimeter as Cesare gives quiet orders. Rafa wipes blood from his jaw, still smiling.

And then – movement.

One of Vittore’s men, not dead enough, lunges like a fucking zombie off the sidewalk.

At Giada.

I cross the space in a heartbeat. Slam into him. His blade flashes and I catch it, twist, feel tendons pop as I redirect the knife into his ribs. His scream is wet and high.

‘You don’t look at her,’ I snarl. ‘You don’t breathe near her. Not in this life or the pathetic afterlife you’re headed to.’ I put the gun under his jaw and end him.

Silence crashes down.

I turn back… and Giada is caught in vicious tremors that shake her whole body.

Her eyes are fixed on me, but she’s no longer here. She’s somewhere else. Somewhere far and terrible.

‘Giada?’ Panic freezes for a split second before I’m charging towards her, catching her shoulders. ‘Giada!’ My hands and eyes frantically search her body. I swear to fuck, if she’s been hit, after all we’ve been through⁠—

My thought chokes to a halt as I complete the search, telling myself to breathe because I can’t see any blood. But if she’s not hurt, then why⁠—?

‘No,’ she whispers. Then louder, breaking. ‘No – no—’ Her hands fly up and she clutches her head.

‘Giada?’ My hands tighten on her shoulders.

I feel my brothers and soldiers edge in, equally tense.

She gives an inhuman little screech as her pupils blow wide and her breath shatters.

Then she says it.

One name. One truth. ‘Madre Superiora.’

And she screams.

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