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I watch them peel out of here, Giovanni swerving like someone who’s never touched a steering wheel a day in his life. If the police cars on their way saw that, they might ignore the call about gunshots and turn around to give him a ticket instead. Quickly, I cross the street to the building the knife wielder indicated and head around back. No matter how stupid the Gatto shooter is, I doubt he’s dumb enough to try slipping away out the front.
I get to an unmarked back door just as it opens, and a figure dashes out. Before he can make it far, I grip the man’s neck and shove him back, gratified by the sound of his skull smacking hard against the brick wall. He swears and goes for the gun strapped to his side, but I pin his arm quickly, pressing my elbow into his windpipe.
“U—undertaker,” he chokes.
“Then you do know who you just pissed off. Good. Introductions won’t get in the way of making you fucking bleed.”
I can see him more clearly under the glow of the small motion sensor light above the door he just exited. This man’s eyes are wide, fearful, and winged by wrinkles. He’s older than most—no matter their family, mafiosos rarely reach this age without making a name for themselves. But I don’t recognize him, which tells me he’s new and not a seasoned Gatto. Probably just some ex-military civilian desperate for a quick buck. Easy prey for the Gattos.
He might not be one of them, but I still want to fucking kill him. My violent impulses are raging. The Undertaker in me ready to take my vengeance and drown out my anger with blood.
“Please,” he manages, despite me increasing the pressure on his neck. He doesn’t struggle anymore, clearly aware of who has the upper hand. “I’m sorry. Anything you want, I’ll get it for you! J—just let me go. I didn’t know I’d be shooting at a woman. If I had, I wouldn’t have—“
“Bullshit,” I grit, slamming him back against the wall again, hard enough for a rib to snap and the air whoosh out of him. “You still took the shot,stronzo.”
“C—can’t we just let this go? I missed anyway!”
I give him a grim smile. “You’re lucky your aim is shit. If you hadn’t missed, we wouldn’t be talking because corpses don’t talk.”
He fights for breath. I’m close to snapping, but Percy’s annoying rightness is like a thorn in my ass.You gonna spare that fucker because Sybil would want you to, Boss?
She would want me to spare him. What she said yesterday about the endless loop of violence that revenge causes made that perfectly clear. Right now, she’s sitting in my apartment, surrounded by shattered glass, in shock with a bad ankle.
And pregnant with my baby, who should never learn what I’ve had to do in the past.
I pull back my elbow finally, and the older man wheezes and gasps for breath until his face is a little less blue. I yank the gun from his side and kick it away, making a mental note to have one of my men grab it later.
“Y—you’ll let me go?” he coughs, eyes bugged.
I fix him with a look. “Hiding your body would be an inconvenience. Don’t cross my path again.”
“I won’t! God, I won’t. I—if you want, I can pay you back—“
“Get the fuck out of my sight before I feed you your testicles.”
The man hurries away like a rat in the night. I kick the gun further under a nearby parked car before watching the police lights pulling up onto my street, the wails grating on me. Seems best to slip into my building by its back entrance this time.
I still want that man’s blood. I want them to fucking pay for putting Sybil in danger. No way in hell will I ever let myself lose her. I still see my father’s agony over losing my mother so long ago, and I know I would be just as broken if I could never hold her again.
I crave violent vengeance, but I crave her far more.
Chapter 21
Sybil
It's almost impossible to see what's happening in the street below. It also probably doesn't help that I'm so high up or that I'm scarcely brave enough to peek outside in the first place.
There aren't any more gunshots, thank God. Still, I sit and listen with my heart in my throat, curled up on the floor, which is where I moved to after Nico left. I feel safer down here, below the window ledge, where I can watch the elevator. I stare at the shattered glass, shivering in the autumn chill now seeping into Nico's dining room.
Please be okay down there.
How did they find his apartment? Has this happened to him before? Does he just have fucking snipers after him these days or something? Or maybe…I grimace. This must have something to do with Johnny Big Man showing up. It can't be coincidental that it happened just after he left. Despite how much the mobster irked me at the end, I find myself hoping he's okay. He clearly meant it when he said the Gattos want his head.
It grows quiet for what feels like an eternity, and I finally release another big breath and shift, trying to get up from the floor. As I do, a small shard of glass digs into my arm. I hiss and pull it out as I sit back on the couch, rubbing the lightly bleeding cut as I continue waiting.
I fucking hate waiting.
It seems like I can still hear a slight ringing in the air from the first gunshot. I've heard gunshots before, but I've never experienced it likethat. I eye the rest of the windows in Nico's place with residual unease.
