Page 138 of Wicked Rivals

I let out a bitter laugh.

“You have no idea. You think taking sniper shots at a child makes you a man? You think stalking women, hitting them, shooting one because you can't control her makes you a man? No, Cozza. That makes you a sick little bitch.”

His hand gripping the gun seemed even more unsteady. It would take only one little jerk, and that would be it.

His grip around Val’s throat tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh, bruising her. Her lips had shifted in hue from their naturally pretty pink to gray. Soon they would be blue.

“Why don't you let the girl go?” I asked calmly. “Then we'll settle this man to man. Come on, just you and me. Right here, right now. We'll find out who deserves what. Winner takes all.”

“You don't deserve anything,” he spat.

“That might be true. I haven't always been a good man. But I know what youdeserve.”

“And what's that, Vignali?”

I tilted my head, grinned at him again.

“A shallow grave.”

He shook his head and screwed up his face.

Good. Another tantrum.

“Think you can talk to me like that and get your slut back in one go? No! You know what? I think I’ll kill her now. Get her out of the way. Then we can settle the rest man to man.”

He twisted the barrel into Val's temple, drawing back the hammer this time with a final click.

She let out a low whine.

I reached out with my left hand, like I could stop him from pulling the trigger. I couldn’t. Then Enzo emerged from the darkness behind his teacher, with the blade I’d given him open.

In one swift move, the boy crouched and brought the switchblade slashing across the backs of Cozza’s legs.

With a scream, the man’s knees buckled. His pistol clattered to the ground, and he lost his grip on Val.

Then Donnie Cozza tripped on his own feet in his attempt to spin toward his attacker, which sent him toppling sideways over the broken concrete, into the hole he’d dug himself.

Val fell to her knees, wheezing as she snatched up the gun into her trembling hands. She crawled to the hole, dragging the length of the chains with her, and stared into it.

The raging scream bursting from her lips coursed through her entire body, making her tremble even more. Before I could react, she fired Cozza’s weapon, slapping the hammer back after every shot as she screamed.

Even after the rounds had been emptied from the cylinder, she kept pulling the trigger. The basement filled with empty, hollow clicks one after the other.

Only when she ran out of breath did she stop.

“Mama,” Enzo cried.

The revolver fell from her hands.

Stunned, she turned to see her boy, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe what her dimming eyes were showing her.

He ran to her.

I ran to her.

We got her up on her feet.

She reached down and brushed her fingers over our son’s cheek. Then she whirled on me.

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