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Malicious.
A goddamn maniac like his father.
That part had always existed inside him, simmering beneath the surface.
“What have you done, Enzo?”
“He’s lost his fuckin’ mind!” Sammy yelled.
Enzo and I snapped our attention to him. I stepped in front of Enzo, stopping him from attacking his little brother. I glared at Sammy, trying to tell him to shut the fuck up with my eyes.
“Fucking came face to face with this prick,” Enzo screamed as he wiped his chin with a bloody fist.
“What the hell are you doing to Sammy?”
“I had to know if he knew, so I used an Exacto blade beneath his fingernails.” His eyes took on a dark, sadistic gleam.
“You tortured your own brother?” I looked at the sadness and anger all over Sammy’s face.
Sammy’s forehead creased. “I didn’t know a damn thing!” he yelled before dropping his head back with a frustrated groan.
Enzo drew his revolver from his hip and walked back to Marco. When he raised his gun, aiming it at the ground, I put myself between them.
“Think about what you’re doing, Enzo,” I said. I needed him to think rationally for two fucking minutes. “How do you even know it was him?”
“Fucker admitted it. And he told me that the Irish prick shot Atheist. So get out of the way, Gia,” he commanded. “There’s no other way this can end for him. So move.”
I shook my head.
“Suit yourself.” He shot between my spread legs, putting a bullet into Marco’s head and sending a spray of blood against my calves.
Sammy screamed.
I screamed.
Enzo was silent.
Thick crimson spread around Marco’s head and crept around my bare feet. I hopped from one foot to the other, trying to get away from the blood, leaving red footprints in my wake. My ears were still ringing as I backed away from him.
Enzo stepped closer to Sammy, whose eyes were wide with panic. “Where does your allegiance lie, little brother?”
“I...I...”
I held my breath, because if he said, “I don’t know,”he would be next.
“With you,” he finally said.
Enzo’s revolver hung at his side, twisting in his anxious grasp. I stared at Enzo. At the hard set in his jaw. At his dark and angry eyes. He reminded me of the Enzo I met so many years ago at the docks.
His hand went to my throat, the barrel of his gun grazing my cheek. I smelled the gunpowder. He leaned into me and backed me into the desk’s cold wood. He squeezed my throat before dropping his hand from my neck to the hem of my skirt, where he clutched with a frustrated exhale.
“I want to fuck you, and I don’t care if he watches,” he gestured toward Sammy with the barrel of his gun. His words didn’t surprise me like they surprised Sammy. Enzo didn’t care who saw us together. He liked the power and possession of people seeing us. Or the risk of it, at least. I was his to show off, and he loved when people knew exactly who I belonged to.
Him.
“Leave her alone, Enzo,” Sammy said, and my breath hitched as I mentally cursed him for saying anything. He didn’t need to come to my defense. It’s what Enzo had always done. Fucked out his frustration, and he was overflowing with it. Sammy’s words stopped his hand from creeping up my thigh. His eyes widened with something I’d never seen.
“Fuck,” Enzo snapped. “What the hell am I doing?” He turned around and cut the ties that held Sammy to the chair, but Sammy looked too stunned to get up. He looked as if he was afraid to leave me with Enzo, but I was certain I could handle him, even in all his Viglione glory.
