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Uri.
His attention is diverted. No. He has another table turned, his gun in hand as he peers to the right to attempt another shot at my brothers.
Rising to my feet, I press the barrel of my gun against the back of his skull, and he freezes at the contact from the cool metal.
In a split second, my gaze flicks from Vito’s, to Matteo’s, over to Torres’s dead body lying amid the blood and carnage, before I settle on the bald man before me. Without wasting another moment, I pull the trigger, watching as the giant crumbles to the floor in a heap.
My chest heaves with the adrenaline coursing through my veins as silence finally settles over the room.
“You good?” Matteo asks, rushing from behind the table, blood smeared over his crisp white shirt as his angry eyes take in the mess around us.
I shake my arms out, trying to release the tension that’s wound up tight within me, but it’s a little harder than I expect. Without answering my brother, I step over the lifeless bodies as I make my way to Torres, crouching at his side when I reach him.
The bullet hole in his skull will forever be seared into my head. None of this was necessary. No one needed to die today, and especially not Torres, but here we are, sitting in the middle of a blood bath once again. Only this time, we’ve lost one of our most loyal and trusted men.
I sense someone moving toward me, but I don’t look up. Vito pats on my shoulder. “Torres will be taken care of with pride and honor, brother. Someone, get word to his family, a display of respect is necessary. Whatever financial support he provides to his family will be met by us.”
“Yes, sir.” With that, someone races down the stairs.
These deaths… they never get easier. We can honor and respect the dead man before me, but it still won’t bring him back to life. Some may say these are the consequences of the life we’ve chosen, but I would call that bullshit.
With a sigh, I rise to my feet, moving back to the bar on autopilot as I reach for a random bottle of liquor that hasn’t been destroyed, unscrewing the lid and bringing it to my lips.
“What are you doing?” Matteo asks as the liquor burns down my throat, and I scoff.
“Drowning my fucking sorrows, brother. Drowning it all.”
18
WREN
Istand locked in place, glaring at the back of the De Lucas’ heads as they all storm from the room. Fuck. I never wanted anything to do with the bullshit my mother and father were involved in, but being away from everything for the past six months has left me itching to sink my nails back into the gritty lifestyle.
I was a fool for thinking I could have a low-key life, not needing the blood or outlet to project my rage. I can’t stay cooped up in the house forever. I won’t survive it.
Nonna clears her throat from beside me, pulling me from my thoughts. “You look like your eyeballs are about to fall out of your head.” She quirks a brow at me as I exhale harshly.
“They just might,” I grumble, placing my hands on my hips as I lower my chin to my chest, attempting and failing at taking a deep breath as she moves closer to me.
“You need to burn off some steam,Bella.” That’s an understatement.
Tilting my head to the side, I offer a tight smile. “I need to burn something, that’s for sure. Maybe Matteo’s bedsheets? That might make me feel better,” I offer with a shrug, and she chuckles at me in response before heading for the door and waving for me to follow her.
“Come on.”
I don’t miss a beat, upping my pace to catch up with her before I fall into step beside her. I’m slightly hopeful she’s going to show me to Matteo’s room so I can get my hands on those bedsheets, but as she steps past the door to my room, she comes to a stop at the one just past it.
There is no way that man has been sleeping this close to me, I know it. My gut would know.
My assumptions are right when she twists the handle and opens the door to reveal a gym. I can’t decide if this is better or not, but the way my shoulders relax and my heart rate slows, I know this is by far the winner.
Directly facing us at the door is a full-length window overlooking the side of the garden, while three treadmills line the wall to the left, followed by three bikes, and three rowing machines. To the right of us are a wide variety of weights and equipment to help build muscle that I’m familiar with from the gym back in Philadelphia.
I’ve seen a few of them at Featherstone Academy too, but that was a lot more about being physical like sparring on the mats or in the ring. It didn’t matter, just getting blood was the end game.
“This might work for you. At least this way you can burn off whatever is going through your head without stepping outside and causing mayhem with the men permanently on guard,” Nonna says with a soft smile, and I offer her one of my own.
“I like you more and more every day, Nonna.” I reach out before I can think better of it, squeezing her shoulder in appreciation. What catches me off guard even more is the way she places her hand on top of mine for a moment, rooting me to the spot as I blink at her.
