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No, no, no, no. Noooooo.
For a second, I stood immobile, as if by not moving, whatever fate was pending wouldn’t materialize. As if I could avoid what my heart already felt to be true.
Moretti’s gaze turned back to me, sinister and vile, strong and unaffected.
With no time to think, I threw myself over the desk, tackling Moretti to the ground, landing two blows straight to his nose before another gunshot rang in my ears. I heard it first and felt it second. My shoulder stung like a bitch, but there was no way I was allowing this fucker to win. Not when Elena was going to suffer the consequences of my failure.
Grabbing the barrel of his gun, I twisted it with all my strength, relishing in the sound of his trigger finger breaking, before taking his gun and pulling the trigger while aimed at his head.
Blank. No more bullets in the fucking gun.
My hand flew to my leg, taking out the army knife stashed in my boot, stabbing it right through his hand and onto the wooden floor.
Moretti screamed like a little girl, thrashing in pain while pinned to the ground.
Those footsteps were now a running march, and we had to get the fuck out of here.
“You fucking traitor!” He yelled, trying to pull the knife out of his palm. I didn’t give him a second thought while I pulled myself up and ran towards Toni.
My world stopped right at that moment as I took in his face. His eyes were wide open but eerily still. I calmed my racing heart and my breathing to a standstill, waiting for a sign of his heaving chest.
Nothing.
Before kneeling beside him, I looked out the door and saw the line of men rushing towards the study. In a cold and rational movement, I placed my fingers on his carotid and stood still for a moment as the rest of my world crumbled into darkness.
Dead.
My twin brother, my other half, was dead.
The swarm of soldati was at the door, I had no time to process what the fuck had just happened. No time to mourn. No time to crumble as the best part of myself lay lifeless on the enemy’s floor. And it was my fault.
With God knows what strength, I stood back up, broke the large window, and ran through the snow.
Chapter 8
Elena
I woke up in the middle of the night with a foreign weight pinning my body down while a harsh shiver shook me from the cold fingers that wrapped around my waist like a vice.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I looked down and saw Giancarlo was taking up most of the space on my bed, his head lying on my stomach while his arms locked my legs in a tight grip.
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he gripped tighter and nuzzled his head further into my middle.
His legs drew up, landing him in a fetal position with the bottom of my body in the center.
“You shouldn’t be here. You gave me up.” I said, my voice as harsh as the abandonment feelings still rushing through me. “Get out.”
Before I could start to peel my legs away from his frozen grip, his body shuddered violently. His massive frame shook with quiet sobs. I stopped breathing, listening to him, taking in every deep inhale of despair he took before his body quaked again with pure dejection.
My bent and broken heart shattered further as I witnessed Giancarlo falling apart as if some form of humanity still existed inside him.
Mafiosi men don’t cry. Mafiosi men don’t even have emotions. They are ripped from their hearts from a tender age, replacing that gap with bloodlust and an endless craving for power. Mafiosi men can’t afford to show vulnerability.
Yet, this ruthless devil sobbed in my arms, hugging my body like it was the only lifeline left for him to hold on to.
My throat clogged up as I watched him let go of all of those rules and just feel.
My hand found his hair, stroking his strands as I tried to bring him some solace. Tears sprinted down the sides of my face as I heard him choking back the agony that had turned a killer into a mere mortal with real feelings and a heart neatly tucked in that broad chest of his.
