Page 53 of The Mafia's Second Shot

Rossi looks up at me, his grin defiant despite the blood streaming down his face. “Is it? Go ahead, Cooper. Pull the trigger. Prove me right.”

I hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. Killing him would be easy, a fitting end to everything he’s done. But as I look at him, beaten and broken, a part of me wonders if I’m better than this. If ending him like this would make me the monster he claims I am.

“Do it,” he taunts, his voice a whisper. “Or are you afraid of what she’ll think?”

The hesitation costs me.Rossi moves suddenly, his hand darting to a knife hidden in his boot. I barely have time to react as he slashes upward, the blade catching me across the side. Pain flares through my body, white-hot and searing, but I grit my teeth and push through it.

With a roar, I twist his arm, forcing the knife from his grip. The move leaves me vulnerable, and he drives a knee into my gut, sending me staggering back.

But I don’t stop.

Fueled by adrenaline and sheer willpower, I lunge forward, slamming into him with everything I have. We hit the ground hard, my hand finding the knife he dropped moments ago. I press it to his throat, my vision blurring from the pain.

“This is for everything you’ve taken,” I growl, my voice shaking.

His grin falters, replaced by a flicker of fear. “You don’t have the guts.”

I don’t let him finish.

With a final, desperate move, I plunge the knife into his chest. His eyes widen, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as the life drains from him. I roll off him, collapsing onto my back as the world tilts around me.

The sounds of the battle fade, replaced by the pounding of my own heartbeat. My side burns where the knife struck, the blood soaking through my shirt. I press a hand to the wound, trying to stem the flow, but my strength is fading fast.

Footsteps approach, and I hear Marco’s voice shouting my name. Relief washes over me as he kneels beside me, his hands pressing against the wound.

“Stay with me, boss,” he says, his voice steady despite the panic in his eyes.

I nod weakly, my vision darkening at the edges. “It’s done,” I murmur. “Rossi’s gone.”

Marco glances at the body, then back at me. “And you’re not going anywhere. You hear me?”

I try to smile, but it’s faint, my energy slipping away. As darkness pulls at me, one thought lingers.

Zoey.

38

ZOEY

The industrial yard is chaos—a cacophony of shouts, gunfire, and the acrid smell of smoke. I push forward, my heart pounding, gripping the pistol tightly in my hand. The crackling voice on the radio telling meCooper went after Rossi alonerings in my ears, driving me forward.

I follow the path Marco and the others took, weaving through the wreckage of the battlefield. My chest tightens with every step, dread pooling in my stomach. Then I see Marco ahead, kneeling beside a figure on the ground.

It’s Cooper.

My steps falteras the sight hits me like a punch to the gut. Cooper is lying on the concrete, blood soaking through his shirt and pooling beneath him. His face is pale, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Marco presses his hands against the wound, his jaw tight as he barks orders to the men around him.

“Boss, stay with me,” Marco says, his voice steady but urgent. “You’re not done yet, you hear me?”

Cooper’s lips move, but I can’t hear what he says. My feet feel rooted to the ground, my mind racing as I try to process what I’m seeing. The man who’s always seemed so strong, so indestructible, looks fragile in a way that terrifies me.

“Zoey!” Marco’s voice snaps me out of my stupor. “Get over here. Now!”

I force my legs to move, stumbling forward until I’m kneeling beside them. My hands hover uselessly as I take in the blood, the knife wound in Cooper’s side, the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Marco, is he?—”

“He’s alive,” Marco interrupts, his tone sharp. “But barely. Help me keep pressure on the wound.”

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