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“That one is for Niccolò, who I know would love to be the one to end your miserable, pitiful fucking existence.”
Feeling safe enough to turn away from the monster that Gabriel Amato is, I turn back toward the man who is now trying to get out the door.
Him, I shoot right in the head.
I don’t give a single shit about him, and the world is better off without him in it.
I step around his lifeless body and unlock the door, slipping out of it to find the rest of the captives down the hallway already.
“What’s the code?” one of the women yells.
She stands in front of the door, her fingers hovering above the numbers on a keypad. I glance at where two men are restraining Niccolò as he shouts obscenities and thrashes in their arms.
He’s our only shot. Our only fucking shot. And he’s drugged up to the heavens.
I walk up to him as screams sound in the distance. The guards are probably coming down the stairway on the other end of the compound. There’s no way they were able to get that fire under control by the time I alerted them. No fucking way.
The men hold Niccolò, and I grab either side of his face and force him to look down at me.
“Niccolò,” I say, running my thumbs over his grown-out stubble. “Niccolò, please.”
His eyes dart back and forth, widening as they latch onto mine. Recognition registers on his face, and I nod.
“I need your help, Niccolò. You have to try, baby. I need a code.” I look at the four-digit pad on the door and then back to him. “Four numbers. What would your father use?”
There’s no way I’m going to get anywhere.
There’s not a chance in hell.
He looks at me, and tears roll down his cheeks as he says a few words I can’t make out. He’s no longer thrashing but goes eerily still as he looks at me, mumbling something and shaking his head.
Fuck.
A loud crackling sound echoes in the small space, and before I can even think to move, part of the ceiling above us caves in and crushes a few of the people at the end of our pack.
Smoke fills the air as a chorus of screams and coughs sound throughout the small space. I turn toward the door, frantically searching my brain for what it could possibly be.
Then, Niccolò’s shouts behind me, “Sofia.”
Sofia? What and how…?
“Holy fuck,” I say as I punch in the birthday I’ve known since I met Enzo.
Sofia’s birthday is the same as our anniversary. I was worried about having our wedding on her birthday, but it was one of the only weekends that month that worked for Enzo’s fucking schedule.
I punch in the last number, and it flashes green.
“Holy fuck!” I scream again as the mechanism unlocks, and I open the door.
I cough, my lungs seizing when the fresh air barrels through the opening.
How the hell did he know that?Much less communicate it.
My heart thunders in my chest, and as my eyes make sense of the light, I see at least a dozen patrol cars, firetrucks, and ambulances speeding down a long gravel driveway one after the other.
I drop to my knees, shaking violently with another cough, and just as the others rush around me, all screaming and crying and heaving in large breaths full of fresh oxygen so loudly I can physically hear them, I collapse onto my back and see nothing but the blue sky and white clouds above me.
Placing my hand protectively on my bump, I feel my sweet baby kick for the first time and burst into a fit of tears.
