Page 59 of Marked By Mayhem

“Who? I’m sorry–” He knows. FUCK. I’m doomed. I attempt to sidestep the conversation, to steer it back to safer ground. But Mauro persists, his proximity becoming threatening now. The walls of the room seem to close in, and I feel a desperate need to escape.

As I rise from my chair with the intention to leave, Mauro's hand shoots out, grabbing my arm with force. Panic courses through me, the realization dawning that the plan didn’t work out as I had thought. I struggle against his hold.

"Why the rush, Ella?" Mauro's voice, now a sinister purr, reverberates in my ear. "I thought we were just getting to know each other better." The club's dim lights cast eerie shadows as I glance around for an escape route. The charming ambiance now feels like hell.

In Mauro's grip, panic begins to take over and I quiver. I steal a glance around, searching for any sign of help, but the oblivious patrons continue their jobs, not even looking in my direction.

The air hangs heavy and I feel like screaming. I feel a rising surge of anger, not just towards Mauro but towards the helplessness of the situation. The pulsating jazz music increases the uneven thudding of my heart.

"What’s the rush, woman?" his voice, a sinister whisper, echoes in my ear. "Are you hiding something, or is it just the thrill of the game you are playing with me?" I need Tommaso. Mauro, sensing my attempts to break free, tightens his grip, further restricting my movements.

"You know what I'm talking about, don’t you?" His voice, now tinged with frustration, cuts through the dissonant noise of the club. The glint in his eyes remains unyielding. And I can see the monster in them. The killer who has the blood of innocents on his hands.

I meet his eyes with a steely silence, a refusal to be drawn into his paranoia. His voice is louder this time when I don’t respond. "You can't fool me. You know exactly what I'm talking about! Answer me!" His words echo in the dimly lit space, bouncing off the walls like accusations seeking validation. The throbbing beats of the club music provide a relentless backdrop to this. Mauro keeps demanding a response.

"He sent you here. This is a fucking trap, isn’t it? He is planning something. Something big. And you're a part of it."

I maintain my stoic silence. Mauro's grip on me loosens as I notice something different in his eyes. Fear. "You're protecting him. But it won't work. I'll find out where he is, one way or another." With each second of my silence, Mauro's anger amplifies, and the questions become more frenzied.

"Do you think I'm naive? Do you think I don't see through your fucking act?!" I gasp as he bellows near my ear.

“I don’t know what you are talking about?!” I spit at him.

"Tell me! Do you know where is he?! Are you in this with him?!" His breath is rotten and makes me gag. “He must be paying you or fucking you really well if you are here with me,” he spits out.

Asshole. I claw at his hand with my nails and try to jolt free. He pulls me harder against him and I am about to scream when the doors slam open. Tommaso’s footsteps freeze mid-way when he notices me.

Chapter Thirty-Two

TOMMASO

Ilook into her eyes, anxious and feverish. Fuck him. I will fucking kill him. Panic claws at my chest, but I can't afford to lose my composure. Not now.

Ella's eyes meet mine, a silent plea for help. Mauro laughs, the sound a grating reminder of the dangerous game we're entangled in. His grip on Ella tightens and I feel my anger rising. How dare he lay his hands on her.

"Ella, my dear, it seems your knight in shining armor has arrived." Mauro's mocking tone echoes through the room. I resist the urge to reach for my gun. Shit.

Shooting now could hurt Ella, and that's a risk I'm not willing to take. I take a step forward, my gaze locked on Mauro. Ella, caught between us, looks torn, her desperation evident. No. I can’t.

I can't risk her safety, not even for the satisfaction of seeing Mauro pay for his sins. Ella's eyes widen with desperation and fear. Mauro chuckles and pulls her harder against himself.

"Tommaso, the son of Tiberio, the great heir of his clan, hesitating to pull a trigger. How touching." His words drip with mockery and he narrows his eyes at my gun. I clench my fists, the internal struggle raging within me.

I need to find a way to get Ella out of this without resorting to violence first. Shooting is not an option, not with Ella in the line of fire. Then, Ella’s eyes suddenly brighten with a spark of determination as if a thought just struck her mind.

In that fleeting moment, she shifts her hand slowly to her pocket, retrieving the small, fancy, purple pocketknife that I had seen in her closet a few days ago. She had said it was a safekeep.

Mauro, oblivious to the impending danger, continues his taunts with a grin. "You can threaten all you want, but you can't change your fate now. Or hers. She's mine now."

My jaw tightens at this, but before I can react, Ella makes her move. In a swift, calculated motion, she brandishes the knife and drives it into Mauro's eye, the metallic clash cutting through the air with a buzz.

Fucking genius. Time seems to slow as the room erupts in chaos. Mauro howls in pain, jolting back and releasing his grip on Ella. I'm caught between shock and a surge of pride at her bold move.

In that instant, as pain contorts Mauro's face, my finger tightens on the trigger. The gunshot rings out, clean and swift, merging with the loud music of the club. The bullet strikes him in the head, and he crumples to the floor with a thud. It’s done. It’s over. I exhale but Ella seems to be having trouble breathing.

I look at her, soaking in Mauro’s blood. Stunned and pale. She doesn't speak. Her usually composed demeanor is shattered, and her lips, usually poised, are now slightly agape. Mauro's blood is all over her pink dress.

The club's ambient sounds seem to fade into the background. Ella just stands there, her eyes wide and unblinking, absorbing everything that just happened. Her legs are shivering and she is shaking violently.

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