Page 33 of She Found Me

BOOM! A third blast to the surrounding walls on the right.

Once the fire turns into smoke, Martelé men appear, running towards the house, machine guns firing frantically in front of them. I shoot them one by one, not missing, each bullet reaching its destination, every man taking a hit. Bodies drop to their deaths on my front lawn. But they keep coming, one after another. It’s like a conveyor belt of armed men.

I reload my gun over and over. Sweat pours from every part of my body, the sound of gunfire intensely vibrating my eardrums. I’m aware of explosions and shouting throughout the house, but I daren’t take my focus off my job in hand for a second. After what feels like an eternity, Martelé men stop coming through the blown-out walls. When I stop shooting, everything is quiet. Too quiet.

“Marco Guerra.” Al Martelé says my name sarcastically as he presses his gun into the back of my skull. The cold metal against my hot sweating head feels quite soothing.

“Al Martelé,” I reply with the same sarcastic tone. “What took you so long.”

“Stand,” he orders. “Put your gun down.”

I release my gun and place it on the windowsill. As I go to stand up, I feel the familiar sensation of a bullet piercing my skin and tendons. Falling forward, I catch myself on the window.

“I said stand the fuck up,” Martelé orders again.

But I can’t. My legs cannot hold my weight. I have been shot in both heels. My Achilles tendons are blown to smithereens. My inability to get up has the men behind me laughing. I quickly throw my upper body around, grab Al Martelé, and pull him to the floor. I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze with every ounce of energy I have left. I’m beaten and shot again until I can no longer hold my grip. Al rolls around on the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

“Tie… him to a fucking… chair!” he orders, spluttering as he tries to catch his breath.

Martelé soldiers restrain me tightly and uncomfortably to a chair. I know I am in for a few long hours of torture. I made my peace with death a long time ago. Living a life like mine, you have to. Unfortunately my body has been trained to withstand hours of torture, which, when you want to die, isn’t a good thing. It’s not that I don’t feel pain, but that I have trained my body not to react to it. Therefore, my blood pressure and heart rate will stay the same, and there will be no verbal or facial reaction. My breathing won’t change, nor will the quickness of my reactions.

The next moment Van is brought into the room, not looking his best. He is tied to a chair next to me. I was hoping he had somehow managed to escape. No such luck, obviously.

“Ahh, wonderful. Now you are both here, we can start our meeting,” Al says, still sounding hoarse from my strangulation. “I have some exciting news to tell you both. The Martelé have now taken over the whole of Itay.” Al laughs.

Vans grunts. I keep quiet.

“We have now claimed the last of your territory, and once you die today, Marco Guerra, the Guerra bloodline will die with you. No more Guerras.” He claps his hands in excitement.

This has been a worry for the Guerras for the last few generations. Each line has become smaller through death. Last in line before me was Leonardo Guerra, who needed to marry and have children, but as he and his wife died, that line ended there. I am only Leonardo’s cousin, but still Guerra blood. I needed to have had children before I died for the line to continue.

“Van, I know the Alboni family have been very loyal to the Guerras through the generations. If you prove yourself, I may be able to find some work for a man like you.” Al lights a cigarette as he speaks to Van.

“I’d rather die,” Van spits.

“That can also be arranged,” Al growls back. “Back to my exciting news. I have a new business partner.” Al gestures towards the open door. “I think you already know Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo enters with smuggest grin I have ever seen.

My body automatically lunges towards him in anger. Al and Lorenzo laugh as I fall face-first to the floor, still fastened to the chair. I’m left there for a few moments while they all have a good chuckle at my expense. The men continue to talk about their takeover plans. But I switch it off to focus on my own thoughts. I’m trying to pinpoint the exact time it all went wrong. Where I made my first mistake. What I could have done to change this outcome—when I hear a name that pulls me back to the present moment.

“Mia. Yes, that was all my idea,” Lorenzo admits confidently.

My eyes bulge. “You bastard,” I spit. Unfortunately, although my body has been trained to not respond to physical pain, I have no control over emotional pain. That must be what their plan is. Torture me with emotional pain that actually feels like physical pain.

“The plan did, however, take an unfortunate turn, but the results were what we wanted in the end,” Al explains.

“Yes, that was unexpected,” Lorenzo agrees.

Van pushes for more information on his sister. “What do you mean? Unexpected?”

“The plan was to kidnap Mia and hold her hostage in return for Marco surrendering enough territories over to the Martelé that the Martelé would be a majority leader. We had seen how much Mia had become to mean to Marco,” Lorenzo explains.

My mind is goes crazy. So many questions. What happened? Why did she die?

“What changed, Martelé?” I demand.

“That is still a mystery.” Martelé frowns and rubs his chin. “We assumed you had worked out our plan and intercepted or Mia had fought back after her kidnapping, then in turn, the car lost control, and she blew them all up. It couldn’t have gone any better for us, really. Mia dying meant we got more than we could have imagined.”

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