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His eyes lance through me, piercing me with blame as his grip tightens. My vision swims, goes in and out of focus. My lungs are on fire, but all I can think about is that I did this. I led Daniil to his death, led the Kozlovs to their graves.
My uncle squeezes tighter, his face inches from my own, taut with concentration, watching as life slips from my body.
This is it. This is how I die.
I close my eyes, giving in to the dark pull that promises to set me free. Grateful for the peace that I’m slowly sinking into.
And then a howl from the depths of hell rings out, and I know my time has come.
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
DANIIL
It’s too late.
A scream rips from my throat, grief shredding my insides.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so horrifying in my life, and that says a lot. Emilio has his hands wrapped around Bianca’s neck, her lifeless body in his merciless grasp. I fall to my knees, my heart splintering as the world around me turns black.
And then I catch it. The faint movement of her hand, clenching and unclenching.
Holy fuck—she’s still alive!
Adrenaline floods my veins as I slam into Emilio with the force of a thousand armies. We roll together, but I end up the victor. Straddling him, I swing for his jaw and observe with glee as his head snaps to the side, blood spraying from his nose like a broken fire hydrant.
I refuse to use my gun on him. It’s too easy. I want to leech the life out of him slowly and painfully with my bare hands, in the same way he almost took Bianca from me. I want him to suffer like she’s suffered.
Out of my field of vision, Bianca’s coughs and sputters assure me she’s alive. Relief floods my system, but I can’t give her my attention yet because Emilio is thrashing wildly. He’s not going to go down without the fight of his life. And neither am I.
The motherfucker thought he was so clever drawing us into the house with the intention of ambushing us. As if it’s our first rodeo; we don’t rule the East Coast for nothing. Leo and I were stealth, entering from a secret side entrance, the night-vision goggles made it child’s play to take out Emilio’s dumb-ass guards with a silenced pistol. We dropped them one by one before anyone realized we had even breached the house.
Leo is hunting down any final Zegas roaming the halls.
Emilio thinks his men will save him, that he still has a chance.
He’s wrong.
“See how it feels?” I spit in his face. “Not so good.”
Emilio’s bloody face tenses as I pin him down with an elbow against his throat.
In the background, I’m vaguely aware of Bianca whispering my name. That’s the only reason I haven’t poked out Emilio’s eyes. I want her lucid, to enjoy watching his death as much as I will enjoy orchestrating it.
He grunts as I get my arms around him in a choke hold that has him thrashing for air. I smile watching his panic mount as I restrict his airflow. “I underestimated the joy it would bring me to kill you like an animal. My only regret is that I can’t bring you back to life and then kill you again.”
His eyes glaze over, sweat drips down his neck as I increase the pressure against his carotid artery.
“Daniil!” This time Bianca’s voice is stronger, insistent, she warns me but it’s too late. Something sharp and deadly sinks into my thigh, just above my hip. White-hot agony shoots through me, and I momentarily lose my grip.
Emilio pounces as soon as his knife does its damage. His fingers dig into my injured thigh and with a triumphant growl, he twists so hard my vision dims. It’s all I can do to stay conscious as fire shoots through my body, the pain causing me to seize up. In that moment, Emilio gains the upper hand, flipping me over and pinning me down, the blade tip digging into my neck.
“Not so fucking tough after all.” Emilio smiles down at me like a deranged Joker coated in his own blood. I struggle against him, attempting to reach my holstered gun, but every movement causes the blade to notch deeper. “You’re not walking out of here alive,” he hisses. “You or that bitch niece of mine.”
“I don’t think so, tío,” Bianca’s voice rings out clear across the room. From the corner of my eye, I register a blur of motion, and then a sickening crash as something heavy breaks over Emilio’s head, splintering in hundreds of pieces and raining down on me. A vase of some kind. I take advantage of the chaos to sucker punch Emilio in the face. His head snaps back once again. He loses his hold on the knife pressed to my neck, and in that one moment, the world turns upside down.
From above, Bianca’s face comes into view, brandishing the knife that Emilio just lost his grip on. Without hesitation, she reaches down and slits her uncle’s throat from ear to ear. A red arc spurts from his throat, covering my face with the coppery, warm liquid. As much as I’m rejoicing in Emilio’s spilled blood, this is Bianca’s moment. I roll out of the way and allow her to finish him off.
“This is for underestimating me,” she seethes, and kicks him in the stomach, a gruesome gagging noise echoes in the room. He’s flipped onto his back, gripping his neck as he takes his final breath. “And this is for killing my family.” A stab to the heart. “And this, this…” she growls, “is for trying to kill the man I love.” This time she delivers a swift kick to the balls, but he doesn’t react. He’s gone. His lifeless body splayed on the floor between us.
