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I couldn’t breathe. I gasped, but it wouldn’t come. I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs.
And then my wide tear-soaked eyes found Diego, and a coldness I’d never felt before slipped inside me.
It froze the core of me and turned the blood in my veins to ice. I’d never understood how Nico could do the things he’d done, how he’d been able to torture people, murder them.
But now I understood.
More than that, I felt it: The cold desire to tear a man apart piece by piece.
It might have looked like the only weapon I had was my bare hands, but in that moment, I didn’t feel human. I was muscles, and teeth, and claws, and thanks to Vito, I had a wicked knowledge of how to use every part.
I lunged at him, baring my teeth like an animal, but the arm still wrapped around my waist held me back. A strong arm. An arm so much like his brother’s, it threatened to thaw me right through. But I needed the cold. I needed it to keep me from feeling, from letting the horrible truth sink in. The truth that Nico—the man I loved—was gone.
“No,” I cried, pulling against Gabe’s hold, but he held on tight, and heat seeped back into my veins.
It was too late. The cold was gone.
“Stop,bella,” he said, holding me tighter. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“That’s good advice, Gabriel. Perhaps, you aren’t as much of a loose cannon as your brother is… er,was,” Diego said, glancing pointedly at the inferno with a disgusting smile.
Gabe shrugged. “I’m full of good advice. In fact, I’ve got some for you, Diego.”
“Do you?” He cocked an eyebrow indulgently.
Gabe nodded, nudging my head to the left with his chin.
My heart skipped a beat and my lungs stuttered as I caught sight of shadows moving soundlessly along the walls.
“Run,amico. My brother doesn’t die that easily.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Nico
Diego had his back turned, his shoulders squared in naïve confidence.
I was done creeping in the fucking shadows.
I could see Vito and all the others slipping in through windows all over the unexploded sections of the building. They’d take care of Berlusconi’s men.
Diego Berlusconi was mine.
I strode forward, not bothering to soften the thud of my footsteps, daring anyone stupid enough to try to take a shot at me.
“Berlusconi!” I hollered as the man swung around at the sound of my steps.
Diego’s eyes widened, but only momentarily. He raised the gun in his hand.
He was fast. But I was faster.
I shot him straight through the hand, making him drop the gun while he screamed bloody murder.
“Gabe’s right,” I said. “Better men than you have tried to kill me, and I’ve sent every one of them to hell.”
I took aim for a second time and shot him in the knee.
He dropped to the ground amid fresh screams, landing awkwardly on his uninjured leg.
