The corridor goes quiet. The gunfire stops. Footsteps approach, deliberate and fast, and I hear Massimo's voice barking orders, his men securing the building, doors being kicked open, the sharp efficiency of the Syndicate doing what it does.
He appears in the doorway.
His chest heaves and his eyes are wild and when they find me standing over Lorenzo with blood on the concrete and a weapon in my steady hands, his entire body goes still.
I look at him and every lie he told me and every truth he kept to himself sits between us. But so does every night he held me and every morning he kissed me awake. I'm not ready to forgive him. I'm not ready to lose him either.
Our eyes meet across the room.
I'm holding the gun. He's holding his breath.
Twenty-Three
Massimo
Lorenzo Ferraro lies on a concrete floor with two shattered knees and a future that looks nothing like the empire he planned.
Pride swells inside for the woman standing over him with a gun pointed at his balls.
I can't move. My feet are planted in the doorway and my pulse is hammering so hard my vision darkens at the edges. The woman I left shattered at a restaurant table is standing over Lorenzo Ferraro with steady hands and blood on the concrete and I don't recognize her. No. I do. I've just never seen her at full power before.
Her blue eyes harden for the fraction of a second she gifts me with her gaze. The pulse in my neck jumps with the pressure exerted against my heart in that one look. She clears her throat like it’s a chore to force words out.
“I’m done letting others control my life, Massimo. I don’t have anything else to say.”
Exhaustion hits me as I peer down at her. For thirty of my forty years I’ve fought for my place in this world. Blood, bullets, and balls have kept me alive. But the defeat in her tone knocks the wind from my lungs. She might as well turn and put a bullet into my heart.
I inhale deeply and live in her scent.
Men enter the room and Luca who stands at my back directs them to secure the area.
Kon's voice carries from the corridor, low and commanding. Luca pulls out his phone, coordinating with Rafael and fills him in on the shooting. The machinery of the Syndicate moves with the precision I've spent fifteen years building with my brothers, but none of it matters right now. The only thing that matters is three feet of concrete between my body and hers.
I walk toward Sloane. Each step feels heavy. Glass crunches under my shoes. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh white light across the blood pooling beneath Lorenzo's ruined legs. His breathing comes in ragged, wet gasps and I step over him without looking down because the man on the floor is no longer relevant.
The woman in front of me has my full attention.
I stop three feet from her. Close enough to see the fine tremor running through her jaw, the muscles working beneath her skin as she fights to hold the composure that carried her this far. Close enough to see the mascara gathering at the corners of her eyes where tears pressed but didn't fall. Close enough to smell the acrid trace of gun smoke clinging to her fingers and the fading scent of her perfume underneath, warm and familiar and mine.
Her knuckles are white around the grip of her weapon, her fingers locked in place. I realize she's not holding the gun because she needs it. She's holding it because letting go means admitting it's over and she's not ready for the adrenaline to stop.
"Sloane." My voice comes out rough, scraped raw. "Give me the gun,tesoro."
The moment she trusted me with her body, she became my world.
Mine. All mine.
There were no words of love between us then, but my life became hers that night. My soul belonged to her and with it came my blood and loyalty. I’ve worked hard to protect her, but I see now that I should not have taken choices away from her. It was bad enough I tricked her into marrying me. If I want to keep her I’ll have to work for her hand and her heart until the day I die.
Her blue eyes find mine. Red-rimmed, exhausted, fierce. For three heartbeats she doesn't move. I watch the battle happen behind her eyes, the warrior receding, the woman surfacing. She recognizes me and I hope to God she knows she is safe.
I lean into her space and make sure her beautiful eyes lock on mine. “No one will touch you,tesoro. You have my word. You are safe.”
Her fingers loosen. One by one. Her index finger releases the trigger guard. Her middle finger uncurls from the grip. Her ring finger. Her pinky. The gun sits in her open palm and I reach forward and take it, the metal warm from the heat of her hand.
I engage the trigger lock and pass the weapon behind me without looking. My eyes don't leave hers.
“Santi will want that back.”