Page 59 of Sold To My Ex's Dad

Luca’s voice cuts through, sharp and commanding. "Move in!" he orders, and his men spring into action. They’re swift and efficient, pulling us apart. Donnie is pinned down by two large men, his face a mask of shock and rage as he struggles against their iron grips.

As I’m pulled back, my breaths coming in harsh gasps, I watch as Luca approaches his son, his expression a complex tapestry of anger, relief, and a father’s deep-seated pain.

I stagger toward Allie, my leg screaming with each step, but relief floods me seeing her unharmed. "Are you okay?" I manage to grunt despite the sharp pain.

"Yeah, but you're not," she responds quickly, her voice laced with concern as she catches sight of the blood soaking through my pants.

"It's nothing," I insist, trying to downplay the severity as she swiftly pulls off her apron to fashion a makeshift tourniquet around my thigh. The fabric tightens, staunching the flow, her hands steady.

"Just hang on," she commands, securing the knot with a final tug.

I glance back at the remains of the gunfight in the room. Luca stands over his son, disappointment carved into every line of his face.

With a swift, resounding slap, he silences Donnie, pinning him with a look that could cut steel. "You disgrace the Amato name," Luca spits, his voice thick with contempt and sorrow. "Is this the son I raised?”

I nod to Allie, and she gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. Her voice is soft but firm. "Paramedics are on their way."

Luca approaches me, his face etched with regret. "Patrick, I'm at a loss for words. I don't know how to apologize for this madness," he starts, his voice heavy with disappointment.

I glance over at Donnie, who's being hauled off by two of Luca's men, along with the others who were shot. "What's going to happen to him and the rest of them?" I ask.

"They'll be dealt with within the family," Luca assures me, his tone firm. My son will face the consequences, severe ones. This I promise you." His gaze then drifts across the dining area's wreckage, a grimace forming as he takes in the damage.

He exhales deeply, meeting my eyes again. "Patrick, your establishment ... this shouldn't have happened here. I know you'll rebuild, and it'll be better than ever. I'll make sure of that. One of my people will contact you soon to discuss compensation for the damage."

The distant wail of police sirens cuts through the air. Luca glances toward the sound, his expression tightening. "That's my signal to leave," he says with a resigned nod.

I respond with a nod of my own, wanting him to leave.

He pauses at the threshold, turning back with a faint smile.

"Try to enjoy the rebuild, Patrick," he advises, his voice tinged with a bitter irony. "Ambitious men like us seldom get a moment's peace."

As he steps away, he adds over his shoulder, "And congratulations on the twins."

The door closes behind him, and I turn to Allie, seeing the same confusion mirrored in her eyes.

"How the hell does he know about that?" she asks.

I grimace as the reality of the ruined restaurant sinks in. The dream I built from scratch now looks like a scene straight out of a crime thriller—bullet holes pock the walls, broken furniture is strewn about, and stains darken the once pristine floor. The sight tightens something in my chest.

"Is everyone okay?" I call out to the waitstaff. They confirm they're unharmed, rising from their hiding places. Despite the devastation, that's something to be grateful for.

A sharp spasm of pain jolts through my leg. Allie's by my side in an instant, her hands gentle but insistent as she tries to ease me into a chair.

"Patrick, you need to sit down," she urges.

I nod, allowing her to guide me, but my gaze remains fixed on the devastation around us. "I don't know how we're going to come back from this," I admit.

Allie squeezes my hand. "We will," she says firmly. "We've got each other, and that's what matters right now."

Her confidence bolsters me, and I draw a deep breath, trying to see past the destruction.

The sound of sirens grows louder, and relief washes over me—Allie's safe, her face lined with worry, but she is unharmed.

Adrenaline drains from my body, and exhaustion grips me. I feel myself slipping toward unconsciousness. I fight to stay alert with thoughts of Caleb, Allie, and our unborn twins swirling in my mind.

They're my anchor, my reason to keep fighting.

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