Page 89 of Influence

The thought of losing Layana gripped me like an iron fist. She had become the center of my universe.

I knew, without a doubt, I’d never be able to survive the loss of Layana.

I needed her. She was the most important person in my life.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it.

I shoved past surprised onlookers to quicken my pace. In the distance, I spotted a crowd gathered like ants around the local bookstore, and a sharp, sinking feeling settled in my chest.

Laya and Cali had specifically mentioned visiting that exact place.

I charged forward, but my legs felt like they were wading through thick, heavy mud. It was like being trapped in a recurring nightmare, where every movement forward involved a struggle against an unseen, draining force.

Wrath and rage coiled within me like a tightening snake with each labored step.

“Fuck!” I snarled under my breath.

The unfolding chaos was unmistakable, a public spectacle that guaranteed a messy aftermath. Scores of witnesses were present, and soon enough, a multitude of names would need to be silenced by whatever means necessary.

My phone vibrated again, cutting through the cacophony of panic, so I yanked it free from my pocket as I maneuvered past the scattered, fleeing bodies.

“What!” I barked harshly into the line.

“Laya has been shot,” came Pavlos’s urgent, strained voice. “The women have barricaded themselves inside the bookstore. We need to get her to the hospital fast, boss.”

A furious mix of rage and dread momentarily froze me. I staggered over my own feet but quickly regained my balance, charging with renewed, wild determination toward the bookstore.

“Who did it?”

There was a brief, tense silence before Pavlos replied, “Your brothers.”

Anger exploded inside me, turning the world a vivid, furious red. “Where are our men?”

“I’m with the women now,” he answered. “The others have your brothers outside.”

I hung up the phone and quickened my pace.

When I finally arrived at the bookstore, a dense crowd had gathered around the entrance. Pushing and shoving my way through, I broke into the center of the commotion and was instantly met with a scene that left me frozen in place.

There, on the concrete of the sidewalk, my men had forced both of my brothers to lie face down, their heads pressed against the cold ground with the unforgiving barrels of their guns.

The metallic scent of fear and blood mingled in the air as the siblings locked eyes and hurled bitter accusations at one another. Shards of glass, remnants of the broken storefront window, gleamed in the streetlight, likely the work of a security team desperate to control the situation.

For a fleeting moment, I absorbed every grim detail, the shattered glass, the tense silence broken only by the ragged breaths of the onlookers, and the raw, seething betrayal reflected in my brothers’ postures.

No explanations were needed. Pavlos had told me precisely what I needed to know.

The time had come to reclaim control, and I was determined to deliver justice with my own hands.

I stepped forward, gripping the pistol I’d drawn during the run, and stood poised at the perfect angle right between them.

“Look at me!” I demanded.

Both brothers slowly turned toward me, their eyes widening in a mix of shock and fear as they saw my gun pointed at them.

“Niko!” Stefano gasped, an amalgam of disbelief and fear.

“Shut up!” I snapped, silencing him with the weight of my anger. “I just want you to look at me clearly as I end this. Youthought you could hurt my wife and live? You’re both more foolish than I ever imagined.”

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