Page 102 of The Don's Soulmate

"Give it up," I call out, my voice a low snarl brimming with menace. "You're not getting away."

He spins around, eyes wide with panic before quickly narrowing into slits. Without hesitation, he lunges at me, brandishing a gun. My instincts kick in, and I disarm him with a swift strike to his forearm, causing the weapon to clatter to the ground.

"Is that all you’ve got?" I taunt, kicking the gun deep into the underbrush, my blood boiling with rage as we clash in a fierce fistfight. He lands a hit to my jaw, sending a jolt of pain through me. I stagger back, blood rushing in my ears. I crouch down, reverse jump and kick him in the shins.

He stumbles, and I seize the opportunity to slam my fist into his stomach. The air whooshes out of him, doubling him over. I pin him to the ground, my face inches from his.

"Who sent you?" I demand between punches, my mind racing with questions and suspicions. The man merely laughs, spitting blood onto the forest floor before prying his fingers into my eyes.

“Fuck,” I scream out loud, pulling away from his assault. I wince, rubbing my eyes and hear him jump to his feet.

"Like I'd tell you," he sneers, walking closer. I sidestep his next attack, kicking him in his lower back and sending him tumbling forward.

"Wrong answer," I snap, my patience wearing thin. At that moment, however, he manages to find his footing and bolts towards the hut, desperation fueling his movements.

"Carlotta! Sofia!" I roar, terror seizing my heart as I sprint after him. The thought of them being harmed…no, I can’t even let that possibility out into the universe. I refuse to let that happen.

"Get back here!" I bellow, my legs pumping furiously, kicking up dirt and leaves as I race after the attacker. "You won't get away with this!"

My heart hammers in my chest as I skid to a stop outside the hut, relief washing over me at the sight of Carlotta and Sofia waiting there, concern etched on their faces. They must have heard the screams and come out to check on me.

"Are you alright?" Carlotta asks, her green eyes wide with fear. "What's happening?"

"Stay back," I warn them, looking around. Then, my gaze locks on the attacker, who is now cornered between us and the hut, hiding behind a tree. There's no escape for him now. He refuses to go down without a fight; his breathing labored as he brandishes a knife, its blade glinting in the moonlight.

"Who are you?" Sofia demands, her voice trembling. "Why are you doing this?"

"Stand back, Sof," I growl, my muscles tensing as I prepare to strike. "He won't hurt you."

"Please, Ettore," Carlotta pleads, her hand reaching out to touch my arm. "Don't do anything reckless."

I glance at her briefly, the concern in her eyes reminding me I must survive. But I can't sit back, not when my baby’s life - our lives - are at stake. I turn back to face the attacker, every fiber of my being focused on taking him down.

"Last chance," I snarl. "Tell me who sent you, and maybe I'll let you live."

The man smirks, lunging towards me with the knife. I sidestep his attack and grab his wrist, twisting it until he cries out in pain and drops the weapon. My other hand shoots out, gripping his throat, and I squeeze, watching the life drain from his eyes.

"Wrong choice," I whisper, rage and adrenaline surging through my veins. “Sofia, the knife.”

Sofia rushes forward, bends down and takes the knife, handing it to me. “Tell me,” I say, my hand still on his throat, choking him. “I will let you live.”

He spits in my face. In an instant, I slit his throat, the thin knife leaving two folds of beautifully cut skin, the blood running down his neck, down my arm. Carlotta gasps, and Sofia stands frozen, watching as the man's body goes limp. I drop him to the ground, my chest heaving with exertion.

Carlotta and Sofia stare at me, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. I feel a pang of guilt for exposing them to such violence, but there was no choice. It was kill or be killed.

"Are you okay?" I ask them, my voice rough and laced with concern.

"We're fine," Sofia says, her voice shaky but determined. "But what do we do now? We can’t just leave a body out here.”

"We bury him," I instruct, my gaze flicking between them as I try to gauge their reactions. “And pretend he was never here.”

The moon hangs high, casting a light over the foliage. We stand around the shallow grave, shovels in hand. I watch Carlotta try to lift the shovel, her belly protruding and her back aching from the strain. Sofia and I exchange glances, an unspoken agreement between us.

“Not you,” I say as Sofia, ever the loyal friend, takes the shovel from Carlotta’s hand and drops it to the ground.

"But I can handle it," Carlotta replies firmly, a spark of defiance in her green eyes as she eyes the shovel, about to bend to get it.

"Lo so che puoi, cara. Ma per favore, lasciaci..." -I know you can darling, but please let us handle it- I say, with amusement: my tigress, ever the fighter.

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