Page 69 of Inescapable Ties
With a steady hand, I unholstered my gun and moved towards the side entrance. Each step was calculated, my feet landing silently on the concrete floor as I approached the door. With a gentle push, the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit hallway. As I peered inside, my senses heightened, searching for any signs of movement or sound. The silence was deafening, but I remained vigilant, listening for even the slightest hint of life around me.
The muffled sound of voices drifted down the left corridor, beckoning me forward. My footsteps were light and cautious as I made my way towards them, my eyes darting behind crates and boxes to ensure I was alone in the corridor. Every creak and groan of the old building seemed amplified as I crept closer to the source of the voices.
What I saw was one of the last things I had been expecting. I had assumed it would be the Mexicans kidnapping my wife for ransom or killing her to set a precedent. What I didn’t expect was to see Luciana’s father and brother staring at her as though they wanted to kill her. And when Rolando raised the gun, I realized they would.
I barged into the room and fired at Rolando’s hand, and he immediately dropped the gun. Then, I shot him in the knee, so the fucker would never walk right again. I fucking wanted to kill him. But I knew Luciana would never forgive me if I did.
Gennaro’s eyes burned with rage as he glared at me for interrupting. Rolando lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling from his wounds as he desperately tried to stem the bleeding with shaking hands. Luciana stood nearby, tears streaming down her face. Though she remained silent, I could see the wave of relief washing over her through the shimmering tears in her eyes. The room was heavy with tension and the faint scent of coppery blood. In that moment, it felt like time had stopped and all that existed were these three figures - one angry and vengeful, one broken and wounded, and one overwhelmed with emotion.
“What the fuck!” Rolando’s voice broke the silence. “What in the actual fuck!”
“You’re lucky it wasn’t your head,” I said, not bothering to hide my disdain for Luciana’s brother.
“Fuck you, Emilio,” he responded.
Gennaro interrupted us before we could continue our argument.
“Very good, Emilio.” Although the way he said it was more patronizing than praising. “How did you know where she was? Did you put a tracker on her?”
“No,” I said, not wanting Luciana to think I didn’t trust her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Fine. What is a man without his secrets?”
“And what is a father without his lies?” I retorted, my gaze never leaving Gennaro’s face. “Why are you here, Gennaro?”
Gennaro’s voice boomed and echoed through the room as he launched into an obnoxiously long monologue. He boasted of his partnership with the Mexicans, revealing that he had been working with them all along. As the words spilled from his lips, it became clear that he was responsible for the lost twenty million dollars of equipment and the charred remains of the warehouse.
The room remained silent at his confession, except for the low whimpers of Rolando nursing his wound. He looked pitiful laying on the ground, blood staining the concrete floor beneath him. His face twisted in pain as he clutched his knee.
“Well?” Gennaro asked, the smug look still plastered across his face. “So impressed you can’t speak?”
Impressed was not the word I was looking for. He purposely fucked with our assets on his “quest” to become the most powerful Mafia family. And we had assumed it was Leone Alto working with the Mexicans. We had wasted endless resources trying to find something to connect him to a crime he was not a part of. My gut twisted in anger as I stared at the mess in front of me.
Before I could respond, a series of shots pierced through the air, and it didn’t come from my gun. In an instant, Gennaro’s body stiffened and then collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap. My mind reeled in confusion as I frantically scanned our surroundings. The source wasn’t my own weapon, but rather came from elsewhere. To my shock, Luciana still sat against the wall, her hand gripping the gun that Rolando had dropped. The barrel was still smoking, its aim fixed on her own father.
Rolando began cursing at his sister in hurried Italian.
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll do the same to you,” I said, walking over to where Luciana was and helping her up. “Do you want me to take care of him?”
I was more than happy to give him the same fate his father had met. My fingers itched to pull the trigger on my gun, to end his miserable existence.
“No,” she mumbled, leaning against me. Then she directed her attention to her brother. “I don’t care what you tell mom and Martina, as long as it’s not the truth.”
Rolando narrowed his eyes at her, a silent “we’ll talk about this later.” He was far too injured to be having this conversation.
Luciana’s eyes widened, and her shoulders sagged with relief as she looked at me. Her face was a kaleidoscope of emotions – gratitude, fear, happiness – all struggling for dominance. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, so she simply hugged me tightly instead.
Chapter thirty-seven
Luciana
Despitethehurtfulwordshe had spoken at my parents’ house, Emilio had come for me. His stance was strong and sure, his eyes filled with determination. In that moment, I knew that our union was more than just a business arrangement to him. It was a bond forged from passion and devotion, one that would weather any storm. And with Emilio by my side, I felt ready to face whatever trials lay ahead.
After hugging Emilio, I had immediately panicked over Short Dino’s condition and ran out of the room. As we approached the spot where he had fallen, our hearts raced with fear and concern. The once strong and confident man was now lying on the ground, his body riddled with bullet wounds. I had almost cried in relief when I heard him try to talk to us.
The three of us squeezed into the car, racing to get him to the Mafia’s doctor as quickly as possible.
The ride to the doctor was long, each minute stretching into an eternity. Once we returned to the city, Emilio navigated through the nerve-racking labyrinth of midnight New York traffic with a concentration that bordered on obsession. His dark eyes narrowed, calculating every turn, every swerve, every millisecond that stood between our friend’s life and death.
