Page 69 of Brutal Vows

It’s who she has with her.

Gia.

My wife stands between two of Antonia’s men, her wrists bound, a thin line of blood trailing down her cheek. She meets my gaze, her breathing heavy, her body tense, but she’s not afraid.

Beside her, Adrian and Kenzo are held just as tightly, bruised but alive. Their eyes flick between Antonia and me, waiting, assessing.

The gunfire slows, fading into a tense silence as both sides take notice.

Antonia tilts her head, watching me. A ghost of a smirk plays at her lips.

“You’re making a mess, brother.” Her tone is almost amused as if we’re standing in a boardroom instead of a battlefield. She presses the muzzle of her gun against Gia’s temple, her finger lazy on the trigger. “Let’s not make it worse, hmm?”

Every muscle in my body goes tight. The compound, the fight, my uncle—none of it matters anymore.

I exhale slowly, forcing the rage down, keeping my voice calm. “You just made the worst mistake of your life.”

Antonia smirk deepens.

“We’ll see.”

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

Then laughter erupts.

Slow, indulgent, mocking.

My uncle steps forward from the cover he’d taken,hands clasped behind his back, eyes gleaming with amusement. He looks at Antonia, then at me, and shakes his head, chuckling like this is nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding at a family dinner.

“Well, well,” he muses, his voice rich with condescension. “I have to admit, this is entertaining.” His eyes flick to me, sharp and taunting. “Tell me, nephew, how does it feel to be betrayed? To have your own bloodturn against you?”

I say nothing.

Because I don’t believe it.

Antonia may have Gia at gunpoint. She may have my men held hostage. She may have aligned herself with our uncle tonight.

But Antonia isn’t the type of person he is.

My uncle sighs, feigning disappointment. “Come now, Vitali. You should have seen this coming. She was always mine. You were just too blinded by your own arrogance to realize it.” He tuts, shaking his head. “Antonia was never meant to follow you. She belongs with me. Where the real power is.”

Antonia doesn’t move.

Doesn’t speak.

But something shifts in her eyes, a flicker of something deep and violent beneath the surface.

And then she moves.

A single, sharp pull of the trigger.

The gunshot is deafening.

Gia screams.

For a fraction of a second, my uncle’s face is frozen in shock—his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. A perfect red hole blooms in the center of his forehead. Then his body crumples like a marionette with its strings cut, collapsing to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Silence.

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