Page 26 of The Price of Mercy

Julian’s breathing came in ragged gasps, his heart hammering against his ribs. The shock numbed him for a moment before reality crashed down like a tidal wave. He had just been shot at. Someone had tried to kill him.

“What the hell is going on?” he gasped, gripping the seat in front of him as the vehicle swerved violently to avoid another barrage of bullets.

“Stay down,” Maurizio snapped, his voice tight with urgency as he gripped the wheel. The tension in his broad shoulders was palpable, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. With one hand, he reached for his phone, thumb pressing down hard on a contact.

“Boss,” he said as soon as the line connected. “It was an ambush. They went for Julian outside the hospital.”

Julian barely heard the response, but whatever Enzo said made Maurizio nod grimly. “Understood. We’re coming home.”

Julian’s fingers dug into the seat, his body trembling as the realization sank in. He could have died tonight. Whoever had attacked them hadn’t been aiming for a warning shot. His breath came in uneven bursts, and for the first time since he was thrust into this world, the true weight of it pressed down on him. There was no escaping this now.

The SUV screeched to a halt in the mansion’s courtyard, the large iron gates slamming shut behind them. Julian stumbled out of the car; his legs unsteady beneath him. His heart was still racing, the rush of adrenaline making his fingers tingle. He barely had time to register the heavy doors swinging open before a force crashed into him. No, not a force, a man.

Enzo.

His grip was bruising, his hands fisting into the collar of Julian’s coat as he dragged him close. The heat of his body pressed against Julian’s, but it wasn’t warmth, it was fury, raw and unfiltered.

“Are you hurt?” The words were raw, almost feral.

Julian shook his head, too stunned to respond. He had never seen Enzo like this before. His normally controlled demeanor was gone, replaced by something dark, something terrifying. His face was taut with barely restrained rage, his eyes burning with something Julian couldn’t quite decipher.Panic? Anger? Possession?

Enzo pulled him inside as his gaze swept over him, scanning for injuries. When he found none, his grip loosened but didn’t release. His jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, as if forcing himself to stay in control.

The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and gunpowder, a reminder that danger had followed him home. Outside, the distant roar of engines and murmured orders signaled that Enzo’s men were securing the perimeter, but inside, there was only silence, save for the pounding of Julian’s heart.

“Whoever did this is dead,” Enzo growled, his voice low and lethal. It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise, cold and absolute. His entire body vibrated with restrained fury, the veins in his hands taut, his breath sharp and controlled, as if he was barely keeping himself from tearing the world apart. His shirt was a bit crinkled, his usual immaculate appearance marred by the chaos of the night. Yet, despite the rough edges, he looked unshaken. Unbreakable.

Julian’s breath caught. The raw intensity in Enzo’s gaze pinned him in place. He had seen the man angry before, but this was different. This wasn’t just rage. It was personal. The weight of it pressed down on Julian’s chest, suffocating and electric all at once.

“I’m alright,” Julian forced out, his voice steadier than he felt. The words felt thin, meaningless, compared to the storm in Enzo’s eyes.

Enzo stepped closer, and Julian barely resisted the urge to step back. The mafia boss moved like a predator, every motion deliberate and laced with power. His hand reached out, fingers curling around the back of Julian’s neck, firm but not forceful. His thumb grazed just beneath Julian’s ear; a touch so subtle yet devastatingly intimate that Julian shivered. It wasn’t an act of control. It was something else, something unspoken, something Julian wasn’t ready to name.

Enzo exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he studied Julian, searching for something in his expression. His grip remained steady, grounding. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you tonight?” His voice was lower now, rough with something almost vulnerable beneath the fury. “Do you have any idea what it would have done to me if they had hurt you?”

Julian’s stomach twisted, the words sinking deep. He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more; the sheer possessiveness in Enzo’s tone or the way his own body responded to it. There was no mocking smirk, no arrogant claim, just stark honesty wrapped in tension. It should have been easy to dismiss, but Julian felt it settle into his bones, undeniable and terrifying.

“I don’t belong to you,” Julian said, softer this time, but not backing down.

Enzo’s fingers pressed slightly, as if grounding himself in the warmth of Julian’s skin. His dark eyes, usually unreadable, flickered with something deeper, something raw. His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. “No,” he murmured, “you don’t.”

The admission should have brought Julian relief, but instead, it left something tangled in his chest. A flicker of something unreadable passed through Enzo’s expression before he added, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll let them take you from me.”

The space between them was nonexistent now. Julian could feel the heat radiating from Enzo’s body, could smell the faint trace of gunpowder and expensive cologne clinging to him. His pulse hammered against his throat, his mind screaming at him to break away, to end this before it became something he couldn’t control. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first; Enzo, with his unreadable expression, or himself, drawn by something inexplicable. But for a moment, the world narrowed to just this. The distant sounds of the mansion, the chaos of the night, the weight of everything between them; it all faded. There was only Enzo, his breath warm against Julian’s skin, his presence overwhelming.

Then...

“Enzo!”

The sharp voice shattered whatever spell had been cast over them. Luca and Matteo appeared at the top of the staircase, their expressions grim, their steps hurried. Enzo’s fingers twitched against Julian’s neck before he abruptly pulled away, his posture stiffening, his mask sliding back into place. Julian felt the loss of his touch like a sudden cold draft.

“We have a problem,” Matteo said, his gaze flickering between them for a fraction of a second before settling on Enzo.

Enzo let out a slow breath, as if pushing something dangerous back down. When he spoke, his voice was sharp, controlled. “I’m listening.”

Julian took a step back, pressing his fingers against the nape of his neck where Enzo’s touch had lingered just moments ago. His skin still burned from it, even as Enzo turned away, his attention now fully on his brothers.

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