Page 101 of Phantom Mine

Rocco bellows, screaming his agony into the night. I keep my gun trained on him as my eyes track Valentina. She crawls away, and all I can think is she’s likely scraping her palms bloody. I’m going to draw out every second of Rocco’s death.

My heart is like a ticking time bomb rapidly approaching zero—-the beats seem to grow progressively faster and closer, going from a measured gallop to trampling recklessly over one another, until it feels like the organ is going to explode in my chest.

Then she gets to her feet and runs towards me. Hair whipping about her cheeks. Arms flailing. Desperation fueling her steps.

A cavernous hole opens up in the center of my chest when I see her face. She’s covered in blood and spittle, with dried tearson her cheeks, a bleeding cut on the right side of her face and a massive bruise emerging beneath it.

Beneath the blood and bruises, the relief on Valentina’s features is unmistakable.

Apprehension draws up her shoulders when she gets closer and sees the seething, uncontrollable emotion on my face. She’s taken aback by the unhinged savagery on my features but it doesn’t hinder her approach—she runs until she reaches me and then she flings herself into my arms.

Her hair flies into my face, surrounding me with her scent. She buries her face in my neck and clings to me. Something heavy settles in my ribcage at having her safely in my arms. If we were in any other place, under any other circumstances, I would growl contentedly at her trust in me.

“Are you alright?” I question, hoarsely.

Valentina fists the fabric of my shirt, clutching it fiercely, and nods silently. I cup her nape with one hand, keeping the gun pointed at Rocco with the other, and press her into me. She’s shaking uncontrollably, leaning her entire weight into me, so vulnerable it’s triggering a frenetic rage inside me that’s likely to level all of London if released.

I rip my jacket off my shoulders and drape it over hers, rubbing her arms to bring her warmth. Tipping my head down, I search her face, desperate to make out her expressions, but she keeps them carefully blank.

“Cara…”

“I’m fine,” she croaks. There’s no mistaking how murdered her vocal cords sound.

With a snarl, I fire a bullet into Rocco’s other shoulder. He’s writhing on the ground before I’ve even processed that my brain gave my hand the order to shoot.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Matteo?” he bellows.

Red warps my vision, my hearing, my thinking. There’s nothing in my mind or body except a primal need to protect what’s mine.

“Stay here,” I order Valentina, my tone uncompromising.

I walk over to Rocco and crouch next to him. He flinches when I bare my teeth at him in something resembling a smile.

“I know cotton balls roll around unencumbered in that vacant skull of yours, but are you really so fucking stupid that you thought you could touch her and live?”

He blanches. “You won’t kill me.” His voice wavers, bordering on a question instead of a confident statement. His eyes ping back and forth between mine. “You won’t kill me just for aputtana—”

This time, I blow the kneecap off his left leg.

“Ahh! Fuck!” he roars, clutching at his knee with his mangled hands.

“Watch your mouth.”

Tears stream down his face, the pain too much even for him. I never cried, not once, through the years of torture he put me through. No matter what he used to burn me, no matter how long he did it for, no matter how much it hurt. I’m not surprised to see him sniffling like a coward.

Killing Rocco now is going to throw theFamigliainto upheaval, but I have no other choice. I can’t find it in me to care that I’m imploding my plan with my actions. I have no mercy for anyone who touches her.

“This is where you draw the line?” he questions between angry jerks of breath, his eyes full of rage and hate. “Years of me taunting you and you’re letting awhorebreak you?”

The second kneecap goes as easily as the first. I shoot another bullet into that knee to pulverize it down to dust, then press the barrel of my gun into his forehead.

“I really don’t like when you insult her, Rocco.” Slowly, I lower the gun until it’s pressed against his crotch. “I’d strongly suggest you stop if you don’t want me to shoot off your favorite organ next.”

“Who are you?” His face is a mess of snot and saliva. “This isn’t you. The brother I know would never do this.”

“That’s what you think. You just never found something I cared enough about to fight for. Until now.” I fist his collar, yank his limp body off the ground, and roar in his face. “You shouldneverhave fucking touched her.”

“You won’t kill me.” The tremble in his voice reveals he doesn’t believe his words.

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