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I want to hate him. De Marco stands for everything I detest: crime, corruption, deceit.
Yet, as I stand here pointing my gun at him, I don’t know if I could pull the trigger. And not just because of Ella’s feelings for him.
There’s something uncannily familiar about him. I’m trying to place the emotion, and what I find is disturbing me. My stomach churns with unease, and my throat constricts.
The reaction Gualtiero De Marco triggers is eerily similar to what I feel for my brothers in arms…
That’s bullshit! The man represents all that’s wrong with humanity. How can I feel brotherly towards him? I don’t understand.
We keep staring at one another. There’s bewilderment in his eyes too.
So I’m not the only one confounded by this?
I know for sure we haven’t met before, so why do I have this sense of knowing him? What am I missing?
I wonder how long we’ve been in this stare off. Time seems to have lost all meaning.
Is my inner turmoil as visible to him as his is to me?
My mind is blank. This isn’t good.
Say something, Aiden. Move this along… Ella needs you.
The thought of my fiancée finally jiggles something.
What if his men are going up to our room right now to retrieve her and I’m wasting my time here?
As if on cue, my phone pulsates in my pocket; it’s still on vibrate from when I turned the sound off in the taxi.
Shit, this will be Ella. Not a moment later, it vibrates again.
She must be wondering what’s taking me so long, or is someone trying to get into our room and she’s calling for help?
Fuck. I pray she stays where she is and doesn’t open the door. I should have left her with a gun. Why didn’t I think of that?
My focus should be clear where she’s concerned, but I’m making amateur mistakes.
“What do you want?” I finally ask.
De Marco chuckles. “I would have thought that was obvious. I’m here to take back what’s mine.”
“Have you ever asked yourself what Ella wants? She ran away from you for a reason. She doesn’t want to be part of your life.”
“We had a little misunderstanding, that’s all. We’ll get back on track,” he dismisses, but he’s not at all that convincing.
“Ella will never accept your lifestyle. She will always try to get away from it… and hence from you. You stand no chance. Why not accept what makes her happy?”
De Marco laughs menacingly. “Let me guess, that would be you? I don’t think so.”
“Whether it’s me or not, the choice should always be hers. And yes, lucky for me, she has chosen me.”
De Marco’s jaw clenches, and his finger on the trigger twitches. “Yeah, the truth hurts, doesn’t it?” I tease, wanting to provoke him into some kind of action. I’m not entirely sure what else to do.
I stare at him blankly, amazed to be lost for words. This doesn’t normally happen.
Then a thought crosses my mind, and I jump on it.
“You have a chance to redeem yourself in her eyes. You had them before, but you didn’t take them. You are running out of opportunities.” He looks at me, stunned, and again we’re left standing silently, pointing guns at each other.
