Page 23 of The Price of Mercy

“Marco!” Enzo barked as he fired a shot, taking cover behind the car.

“Got you!” Marco returned fire, his expression a mask of cold determination. Ricardo was already on the move, pulling one of the downed guards out of the line of fire while Salvatore disappeared into the shadows, likely maneuvering for a kill.

Gunfire continued in bursts, a relentless storm of bullets tearing through the street. The air reeked of gunpowder and burning rubber, acrid and thick in Enzo’s throat as he ducked behind a parked car. His pulse was a steady, controlled rhythm; too much panic meant mistakes, and mistakes got men killed.

Another shot slammed into the car’s hood, sending a shower of sparks flying. Enzo grit his teeth, rolling to the side and firing back in quick, precise bursts. He had no time to think, only react. Every second counted. Every movement had to be calculated.

Who the hell were they? This wasn’t some half-assed warning. These men were trained, coordinated. Professionals. Someone had planned this. Someone wanted him dead.

A sharp whistle of a bullet barely missed his head, embedding into the concrete inches away. Too close. He exhaled sharply, forcing his mind to focus. Panic was useless. He’d survived worse.

Another rapid burst of gunfire rang out, and before he could shift cover, a searing pain exploded in his shoulder. The impact jerked him back against the car, his breath hitching as agony tore through him.

For a moment, everything else dulled, the gunfire, the shouting, the chaos, and all that remained was the sharp, white-hot sensation radiating from the wound. He grit his teeth, refusing to falter. Weakness was not an option.

Blood seeped through his suit, warm and sticky, but Enzo pushed forward, dragging himself into better cover. He forced his hand to stay steady as he raised his gun again, his green eyes sharp and filled with fury.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Enzo kept firing, his vision blurring at the edges from blood loss. His movements became heavier, but he refused to slow down. He had to hold out.

Then, the roar of approaching engines cut through the gunfire. Five sleek black cars screeched onto the street, their tires burning against the pavement. A surge of relief mixed withdetermination flooded Enzo’s veins as his brothers arrived, leading a small army of heavily armed men.

Luca was the first to jump out, gun raised, his expression dark with rage. Matteo followed, already firing before his feet even touched the ground. The reinforcements wasted no time; bullets tore through the air with precision, overwhelming the ambushers. The tables turned in seconds.

The assailants, realizing they were outnumbered, began to retreat. Some ducked into alleyways, others sprinted toward waiting vehicles. A few were cut down before they could escape, but the rest vanished into the city, leaving behind only the wreckage of their failed assassination attempt.

As the last shots faded, Enzo slumped against the car, gripping his bleeding shoulder. The street was littered with shattered glass, spent shells, and bodies, both his men and theirs. His chest heaved, exhaustion threatening to drag him under, but he pushed through it as his brothers rushed toward him.

“Enzo!” Luca’s voice was sharp with worry, his usually calm demeanor shattered as he knelt beside him. His hands hovered near the wound as if unsure whether to touch or not.

Matteo, face pale, scanned Enzo for more injuries before muttering, “Christ, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”

Enzo let out a strained breath, trying for a smirk but only managing a grimace. “Yeah, no shit.”

Luca’s jaw clenched as he ripped off his own jacket, pressing it hard against Enzo’s shoulder to slow the bleeding. “We need to get you to Julian. Now.”

Enzo nodded weakly, but his eyes were still scanning the area. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Chapter 16

The Aftermath

The car sped through the darkened streets, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and red as Luca pressed the accelerator to the floor. Enzo sat slumped in the backseat, his hand clamped over the wound in his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his white shirt a deep, ominous crimson.

His face was pale, his jaw clenched tight against the pain, but his eyes were sharp, alert, burning with a quiet fury that even the injury couldn’t extinguish.

Matteo sat beside him, one hand gripping Enzo’s uninjured arm to steady him, the other holding a blood-soaked cloth to the wound. His face was a mask of tension, his usual calm replaced by a barely contained rage. “Who the hell was it?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “De Luca? Rossi? Who’s stupid enough to pull this shit?”

Enzo shook his head, his breathing shallow but steady. “Doesn’t matter,” he said through gritted teeth. “We’ll deal with them later. Right now, I need to stay alive.”

Luca glanced at them in the rearview mirror, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “We’re almost there. Just hold on, Enzo.”

Enzo didn’t respond. He leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes closing for a moment as he focused on breathing through the pain. The wound wasn’t life-threatening; he’d been shot before, and he knew the difference between a graze and something worse, but it hurt like hell, and the blood loss was making him lightheaded. He couldn’t afford to pass out. Not now. Not when his enemies were clearly making their move.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the mansion, and Luca was out of the driver’s seat before the engine had fully died. He yanked open the back door, his movements quick and efficient as he helped Matteo pull Enzo out of the car. Enzo gritted his teeth, biting back a groan as they half-carried, half-dragged him up the steps and into the house.

The mansion was eerily quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by a tense silence. The staff knew better than to ask questions when the brothers came home like this; bloodied, angry, and dangerous. Luca barked orders as they moved through the halls, his voice sharp and commanding. “Clear the medical room! Get Julian down here, now!”

Enzo’s vision blurred for a moment as they reached the medical suite, the bright lights making his head swim. He blinked, forcing himself to focus as they lowered him onto the examination table. The room was sterile and efficient, stocked with everything Julian might need to patch him up. Enzo had made sure of that. He’d always known this day might come.

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