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33
Damian raised the gun, fired into the target at the end of the lane. The motion was automatic, his feel for the target instinctual. He’d had the firing range installed at the Westchester property while he’d been in the hospital recovering.
It was the best investment he’d ever made.
He’d checked himself out of the hospital well in advance of doctor’s recommendations with vague assertions of the work he had to do. He couldn't tell them the only work he had in mind was finding Aria and killing the men who had taken her from him — Primo himself if necessary,
He would happily accept Aria’s wrath — even her hatred — over her death.
It had been three weeks since the shootout on Capri. Three weeks of blood and surgery. Three weeks of wondering what she was doing every moment of every day.
He emptied the chamber of the gun and pushed the button to bring the target up the lane. There were several holes in the silhouette’s head.
He lowered the weapon, wincing as pain shot through his chest.
He welcomed it.
Blood was seeping through his bandage again, another useful reminder of what Malcolm Gatti had done to him and Aria. And he was sure Malcolm had been behind it. There were rumors that Stefano Anastos had gone underground — too much of a coincidence given the language spoken by he men who had taken Aria.
Anastos had been a small time player in the organized crime families vying for business after the fall of the Syndicate. It made sense that he would join forces with what was left of Primo’s organization.
But Primo wasn’t strategic enough to enlist their help — that had Malcolm Gatti written all over it, a belief that was validated when Damian found a tracking device in the bag Aria had left behind in the house on Capri.
Damian’s fingers itched for a trigger at the thought of Malcolm and Stefano holding Aria. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about what they might be doing to her.
That was a recipe for madness.
He started cleaning his weapon and thought instead about what he would do to them when he caught them.
And he would catch them.
He’d brought New York under control for the time being and had officially accepted the Syndicate’s offer of partnership. He was still getting used to the idea of the brotherhood, and they’d given him a wide berth in consideration.
Farrell had visited him once in the hospital, as had Nico, accompanied by Angel. Damian had been surprised how happy he’d been to see them, although of course, he hadn’t let on.
In the end accepting their offer had been easy. He was going to get Aria back if it was the last thing he did, and he would accept any and all terms to see it done. Nico and Farrell had agreed to offer him the full breadth of the Syndicate’s resources. They’d said it was a matter of honor — an attack on one was an attack on all — but seeing the way Nico looked at Angel made Damian think it was about something else as well.
He didn’t know if he would come to see them as his brothers. But he knew Aria was his woman.
His family.
He knew it from the hole that had opened up in his heart when she’d been pulled over the side of the terrace on Capri. Knew it from the ache in his body when he woke up without her every day. When he went to sleep without her in his arms.
They were two sides to the same coin. To halves of the same whole.
No one can free you…
He’d once told her he couldn’t save her. He knew now that he’d been wrong.
He could save her. He would.
Anyone in his path would die.
The End
