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“How the hell do you know?”
His expression was cold. “I know a dead body when I see one.”
Carmine sat in the dirt, his eyes stinging with tears. He looked around frantically, hoping it was a vicious nightmare he would soon wake up from, and spotted a smug smile on Katrina’s lips.
The sight of it made him lose control. “This is your fault!” He looked between Katrina and Michael. “You killed her! You made her do this!”
“Who cares?” Katrina snapped. “She’s a slave!”
The moment those words met his ears, all logic fizzled away. “No, she wasn’t a slave!”
“Carmine!” Corrado warned.
“She was a Principessa!” he said, ignoring his uncle. “Salvatore’s gonna kill you when he finds out!”
Grabbing the garden shears from the ground by his leg, Carmine flung them at Katrina and struck her in the side when she tried to move away. Deranged, she grabbed a shovel and ran toward him. He scurried backward and tried to get to his feet as she raised the shovel above her head. Corrado reacted swiftly, pulling his gun from his coat and aiming it at his sister with no hesitation. The sound of the gunshot ricocheted off the walls in the small enclosure, and Carmine recoiled at the deafening noise. The horses reared up again, spooked by the gunshot.
Katrina gasped as the bullet ripped through her chest, her footsteps halting as she swung the shovel in reaction. It slammed into Carmine’s shoulder blade, sharp pain running through his left side. Katrina sputtered and dropped the shovel to clutch her chest. Another shot rang out, hitting dead center between her eyes, and she dropped to the ground.
A frantic Michael screamed, lunging for him, and Corrado reacted once more. Ducking, Carmine covered his head when the gunshot rang out, blood splattering in his direction as the bullet ripped through Michael’s skull. He fell forward with a thud beside his wife, limp on impact.
Carmine dry heaved again as Corrado fired a few more shots into their bodies, his finger casually pulling the trigger as if it meant nothing. As if they weren’t people. As if they weren’t his family.
Glaring, Corrado yanked Carmine off the ground. He staggered a few steps as he gained his footing, his legs trying to buckle under his weight. He swayed, trying to hold everything in, but the annihilation sent shockwaves through him.
Corrado returned his gun to his coat and pulled out his cell phone as Carmine sat on the small stool. Putting his head between his legs, he covered his face with his hands and took deep breaths. He counted to ten, trying to calm down, but his ears rang and head pounded as Corrado spoke calmly into the phone.
One.
“There’s been an incident.”
Two.
“I burned two, sir.”
Three.
“A confrontation escalated.”
Four.
“I had to act.”
Five.
“My sister and her husband.”
Six.
“I take full responsibility.”
Seven.
“I’ll get a place ready.”
Eight.
“And I’ll accept any consequences . . .”
