Page 44 of The Price of Mercy

Enzo’s hand gripped the gun tighter, ready to take the first shot, ready to bring this hell to an end.

But before he could make his move, before any of them could act, a loud bang echoed through the courtyard.

The sound ripped through the air like a clap of thunder, sharp and jagged. The echo of the gunshot seemed to vibrate the walls, sending a ripple of shock through the tense standoff. Giovanni’s eyes snapped toward the source of the noise, his face suddenly contorting in disbelief.

Then, with a sickening thud, Giovanni De Luca crumpled to the ground, his body jerking once before falling still, lifeless.

For a long moment, everything seemed frozen in time. The suddenness of it, the clean, deadly shot that had taken Giovanni out in an instant, left the warehouse courtyard silent, save for the ringing in their ears. The men surrounding them flinched, eyes wide with shock. Their leader, the man who had commanded their loyalty and fear for years, was dead.

As Giovanni’s blood began to pool beneath him, the crackling tension seemed to snap. And then, slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the open with purposeful strides.

Aldo De Luca.

A sharp intake of breath swept through the remaining men, and Enzo’s grip on his gun slackened, his brow furrowing.

Aldo stood there, tall and slender, but nevertheless imposing, his eyes colder than the night itself. His face was a mask of controlled anger, his jaw clenched, but there was something else in his expression, something darker. In his hand, a sleek, silver pistol gleamed in the dim light of the courtyard, still raised, aimed directly at his father’s lifeless form.

The air seemed to thicken with the weight of Aldo’s presence, and the men who had once followed Giovanni now hesitated,caught in the storm of uncertainty that had just swept through their ranks. They looked at Aldo, unsure whether to fight or flee.

“You…” Enzo’s voice broke through the stunned silence, his gaze fixed on Aldo. “You killed your father?”

Aldo’s lip curled into a faint, humorless smile. “A father? No. That man wasn’t a father.” He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Giovanni’s body. “He was a monster.”

There was a cold finality to his words, each syllable weighted with years of buried resentment, of betrayal. Aldo’s gaze lifted, meeting Enzo’s now. “I’m not here to fight you, Moretti,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But because I wasn’t about to let my bloodline be destroyed and everything my family stands for tarnished because of that power-hungry imbecile.”

His words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, it seemed like nothing more than a whisper against the storm. But then Aldo turned his attention to his father’s men, his expression hardening.

“Drop your weapons,” Aldo commanded, his voice like iron. “Now.”

There was no hesitation this time. One by one, the men who had been ready to kill Enzo and his family, who had followed Giovanni without question, dropped their guns, their eyes filled with shock and confusion. Some glanced at Aldo as if searching for an explanation, while others lowered their heads, defeated.

Aldo’s gun remained raised, but his stance softened slightly. His gaze lingered on Enzo and Julian, but there was no malice, no anger in his expression, just a steely resolve, a sense of finality. “You’re free to go,” he said, his tone almost begrudging. “Call us even.”

Julian, still trembling beside Enzo, looked up at the figure standing before them, still trying to piece together the chaos that had just unfolded. The weight of it all, the sudden freedom, the shock of Giovanni’s death, Aldo’s unexpected arrival, it was too much, too overwhelming. But one thing was clear now: they were alive. And somehow, in a twisted turn of fate, Aldo De Luca had just saved them.

Aldo’s gaze flicked briefly behind Enzo, to where his brothers stood, his eyes softening for just a moment before hardening again. “No need to thank me,” he said coldly.

With that, Aldo turned, his back straight, his movements deliberate and sure. Without another word, he walked away, disappearing into the shadows from which he’d come, leaving the Moretti’s and Julian standing amidst the wreckage of everything that had just unfolded.

For a long moment, no one moved. The rain continued to fall in gentle sheets around them, the only sound now the soft patter of droplets on the concrete and the sound of engines turning on as De Luca and his men left.

Enzo finally exhaled; his body still coiled with the adrenaline that had surged through him just moments ago. His eyes locked onto Julian’s, seeing the confusion, the exhaustion, the raw emotion reflected in his gaze.

“We need to get you out of here,” Enzo murmured, his voice low, unsure, but filled with urgency. “Let’s go.”

Julian nodded, his body still shaking, but something in him had shifted. The nightmare was over and for the first time in days, it felt like there was a path out of the darkness.

Epilogue

The Choice

Enzo sat in his office; the room quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. His fingers drummed absentmindedly against the smooth surface of his desk, but his mind was a thousand miles away, lost in a sea of thoughts that churned relentlessly. The weight of the past few weeks pressed down on him, suffocating him, drowning him in guilt.

How did I let this happen?

The thought was on a loop in his mind, unrelenting and unforgiving. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular as the shadows of the evening crept across the room. It felt like a lifetime ago that Julian had been taken, only a few weeks, but in that time, everything had changed.

He still saw it so clearly. The fear in Julian’s eyes when they first reunited. The way his body had trembled in his arms, as if he could sense the fragility of the moment, as if he wasn’t sure whether it was real.

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