Page 75 of The Don's Soulmate

In a blur of motion, Ettore leaps out from his hiding spot, slicing towards the man's wrist. The assassin jerks back, but not before the knife cuts his hand, making him drop the gun with a clatter. Ettore kicks it away.

Weaponless now, the man roars and charges at Ettore, massive arms swinging. Ettore ducks and weaves with astonishing speed, avoiding each blow while landing sharp jabs with the knife's hilt to the man's ribs and gut. The man stumbles back, winded. He falls to his knees.

Ettore walks over to the staggered assailant, closing the distance between them with merciless intent.

"Game over," Ettore growls, his knife gleaming in the harsh store lights. The assassin's eyes widen with terror, aware of his imminent defeat.

"Damn you, Ettore Mancini," he gasps, but his words are cut short as Ettore finishes the deadly dance with a final, decisive blow.

Blood splatters across Ettore’s neck as Ettore plunges his knife deep into the assassin's chest. The man gurgles, his eyes wide with shock and fear, before crumpling to the floor in a lifelessheap. Ettore yanks out the knife, his cold blue eyes never leaving the dead man's face.

"Are you alright, Carlotta?" he asks, his voice strained with a mix of concern and lingering anger.

"Y-yes," I stammer, wiping the blood from my cheek with trembling fingers. "I'm okay."

"Good." Ettore glances around the store, noticing the mess we've made. "We need to leave, now. Before the owner comes back."

He leaves more than enough cash on the counter, grabs the items and my hand, pulling me away from the scene of carnage. We sprint out of the store, past the dead body. Nothing seems important anymore, not when our lives are on the line.

"Where are we going?" I ask, breathless from our hurried pace.

"Back to the inn now, but we’ll have to move fast, before someone else catches onto us," Ettore replies, his eyes scanning the street for further potential threats on the way to the car.

The cold wind whips against my face as Ettore puts the things in the backseat and I get in the front. He takes his place and we begin to drive back, pressing the maximum on the allowed speed limit.

My heart hammers in my chest, not only from the emotional strain at today’s unexpected turn of events but also from thefear that courses through my veins. What if the owner describes us? What if the cops running after us? I lose myself to my dark, twisted thoughts, the fear turning me into someone I don’t recognize.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" he asks, his voice strained with concern as he glances over at me when the silence between us gets almost overwhelming.

"Y-yes," I stammer, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "But what just happened? Whoever could that man be?"

Ettore's jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow. "His name is Vittorio, one of the infamous assassin brothers. The same ones you warned me about, but I never thought they'd be bold enough to come after us in public like that."

"One of the assassin brothers?" I echo, the words chilling me to the bone.

"Si, Carlotta," Ettore confirms, his voice grim. "They're highly skilled and dangerous. And now that one of them is dead, the others might want revenge."

"Can we really outrun them, Ettore?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

He remains silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts before answering. "We'll do everything in our power to stay ahead ofthem, cara mia. We'll change our identities, move to a new location – whatever it takes to ensure your safety."

I notice he didn’t sayoursafety.

Chapter 34

Ettore

The dim light of the inn room casts a hazy glow over the surroundings when we enter, despite it being bright outside. Both Carlotta and I are still breathing heavily from the adrenaline coursing through our veins, our recent escape heightening every nerve.

The minute Carlotta closes the door behind us, I reach for the remote on the bedside table. My heart pounds as I click on the TV, gripping Carlotta's trembling fingers. The remote tumbles from my hand. There she is on the news, her photo splashed across the screen, revealing the breaking news headline: "Carlotta D'Amici - Alleged Kidnapping Victim."

Kidnapped.

Bullshit.

The word burns in my mind as the reporter spews lies, spinning a tale of how I abducted Carlotta from her home. How I'm holding her for ransom.

"Wh-what?" she stammers, her gaze fixated on the television. I can see the terror in her eyes, the sheer confusion.

---