Page 149 of Thorns of Death
Suddenly, I was lifted off Donatella’s butchered body. I tried to wrestle myself free, kicking and screaming, but my strength was faltering.
My back hit the cold, dirty floor and stole my breath. The shredding sound of my bloodied clothes filled the room. It ripped at my skin, my cuts burning.Oh God, was he going to rape me on top of everything else they’d done to me?
I screamed as an explosion sounded somewhere, but I didn’t know whether it meant something better or worse was coming.
The door swung open, but before I could see what new nightmare was coming, Giulio gripped my hair and yanked my head up only to slam it against the concrete.
And I was pulled into the darkness.
FIFTY-THREE
MANUEL
Bang.
And then silence. Such deafening silence that told you nothing would ever be the same.
Enrico’s bullet pierced through Giulio’s skull. But that wasn’t what had all of us frozen in our footsteps.
It was Isla’s small, battered body on the ground, next to the body of a mutilated Donatella. My blood ran cold at the sight. Isla’s bloodied clothes were ripped, sitting on the dirty ground. Dozens of horrible wounds marred her flesh, some crusted over, others weeping. Blood pooled around her. I couldn’t find a piece of skin that wasn’t affected.
Enrico found himself on his knees, cradling her broken body to his chest. His pained howl shredded my soul. It was the reason I’d never wanted to wed. I would never want to leave myself vulnerable to love.
I watched my nephew break before my eyes.
I had never seen him like this. Not when his brother died. Not when his mother died. And not when his father died.
Yet now, I watched him shatter into a thousand pieces.
He was the boss of the Marchetti family. He changed the rules of the Omertà, made every family equal, but it was he who started changing the organization with his vision. He was ruthless, but he was always fair.
In my entire life, I had never seen my nephew cry. But right now, he cried as he held his wife in his arms. He rocked her back and forth, his arms tight around her.
I stood frozen, just a few feet away from them. My eyes shifted to Isla and my chest tightened painfully. She looked so weak, so small.
Illias rushed past me, falling down to his knees by his sister. “Isla,” he croaked. “Oh my fucking God. Isla, open your eyes.” All the while, Enrico kept rocking her, holding her tightly. “Enrico, give her to me.”
“Get away from my wife,” he hissed, refusing to move.
“Nephew,” I called out to him. We could be ambushed at any minute. Boris, Illias’s right-hand man, and Kian were searching for signs of Sofia. How that bitch always managed to slither her way out, I had no idea. “We have to go.”
Illias shed his jacket, then wrapped it around his sister’s bruised body as much as he could with Enrico in the way. A soft, pained whimper sounded, but her eyes never opened.
“Enrico, we need to get her to the hospital,” Illias said, his fingers trembling as he leaned forward, moving her hair away from her face. Jesus Christ, what did they do to her? My stomach clenched at the sight as her brother placed his finger on the side of her neck. He let out a shuddering breath and raised his head. Tears glistened in his eyes. “Her pulse is steady but slow.” His hand tightened on Enrico’s shoulder. There was only one way to snap him out of his daze.
“Enrico, she’ll live, but we have to get her to the hospital. Now,” I said quietly.
Kian returned at that moment. “No sign of Sofia. We have to get going. A chopper is waiting to take Isla.”
Enrico’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine. My heart might have stopped for a second at the feral look in them. I remembered the day of his brother’s funeral. He’d stood emotionless, knowing his life had changed forever. Overnight, he became his brother. He became a father. He became the head of the Italian mafia. He’d been able to bear the unimaginable.
Yet now, I feared he’d be truly lost if Isla didn’t make it. I could feel his pain deep in my soul as if it were my own.
“Isla is not safe here,” Illias muttered quietly.
That finally got Enrico moving. A collective sigh filled the space. My nephew shifted Isla in his arms and slowly rose to his feet. He kept her pressed against his chest, her usually vibrant red hair matted and dull. Bloodied. Illias stood up too.
Enrico looked down at his wife again and his expression softened. “I… I can’t lose her,” he choked, pulling her fragile body into his chest.
