Page 51 of The Killer Cupcake
Carmelo felt it too, and he charged straight toward destiny.
The Mauler lunged with desperate fury, telegraphing a wild haymaker meant to decapitate. But Carmelo dropped—not falling, flowing—into a perfect crouch, every hour of training crystallizing into this single moment. As the giant's fist sailed harmlessly overhead, Carmelo drove upward like a compressed spring releasing, his right fist connecting with surgical precision against the Mauler's exposed throat. The weak spot the Marcellos told him to aim for.
A sickeningcrunchechoed through sudden silence—a shattered larynx.
The giant's eyes bulged, his gloves clawing at his crushed windpipe. He staggered backward like a drunk man, then crashed to the canvas with the sound of a felled redwood—a thunderous impact that somehow seemed louder than the crowd's roar.
Absolute silence.
Nearly a thousand people held their breath as one. The Mauler lay motionless, a broken mountain of flesh. The referee stepped over cautiously and began his count, each number falling like a hammer blow into the hush.
"Seven... eight... nine... ten!"
Then—explosion.
“WOLF! WOLF! WOLF!"
The arena erupted as the referee seized Carmelo's blood-slicked glove and thrust it skyward. Kathy screamed until her throat was raw, and she and Janey collapsed into each other's arms—laughing, sobbing, delirious with relief and disbelief.
He had done the impossible. The Wolf had conquered the South.
There wasa press shoving cameras in his face. There were the mafia bosses demanding their pot of gold. There were doctors barking orders. There were girls who'd slipped through the back doors, desperate to throw their undergarments at the champion. But through the chaos, with his one functioning eye, Carmelo searched for the only face that mattered.
The doctors won their battle, shoving everyone aside with medical authority. He wasn't doing well—not well at all. They rolled him onto his side as blood bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, his body rebelling against the punishment it had endured. Don Marcello's money had bought the best physicians in New Orleans, but even they looked worried as they worked over his battered frame.
But he had won. He had Kathy.
Then he felt it—the familiar warmth of her fingers threading through his bruised knuckles. She squeezed gently, anchoring him to consciousness. He turned his head with enormous effort, his good eye finding her through the swirling chaos.
She leaned over him like a guardian angel, her tear-streaked face the most beautiful vision he'd ever seen. The carnival of noise and bodies faded to nothing. The world contracted to just this: her eyes, her touch, her presence.
"I LOVE YOU," she mouthed silently, her lips forming each word with perfect clarity.
Then the darkness claimed him, pulling him down into merciful oblivion where nothing hurt, and love was the last thing he remembered.
A Week Later
"Any word on Willa?" Kathy asked.
They sat outside a charming café just off Bourbon Street, the afternoon sun filtering through the wrought-iron balconies above. Kathy had stayed an extra week to tend to Carmelo's injuries, which had landed him in the hospital for two days. She'd called home and told everyone who mattered that Willa had run away, which was the truth, after all.
A distressed Mrs. Lottie Jensen had offered to send Ely along with other men to Texas to help search, but Kathy declined. Even if she didn't agree with Willa's choices, the fact that Lottie insisted Willa couldn't make any decisions without her approval bothered Kathy. Instead, she'd informed Mrs. Jensen that she was staying with Willa's "sister" and her family, and would spend a week searching everywhere for her.
It had broken her heart to hear Big Mama sound so weak and frightened on the phone when she learned Willa was missing. It hurt even more to lie to the matriarch she loved so dearly. But her life had turned her into a liar long ago.
"No news," Janey set down her delicate porcelain cup, her golden eyes finding Kathy's. "And that's actually a good sign."
"How do you figure that?" asked Kathy.
"She's still with him. Pinkie says they're holed up in his cottage on the plantation grounds, and Willa's been seen smiling and content on the porch and at the window, staring out. He hasn't mistreated her or cast her aside yet. I expected her to be back by now, honestly—expected this infatuation to have burned itself out."
Kathy rolled her eyes. "It's only been a week. It will end."
"Don't be so certain,chère. New Orleans is different.We'redifferent here. If a Thibodeaux man didn't truly want Willa, she'd be gone already, discarded like yesterday's newspaper. Something unusual is happening over there, and I intend to get to the bottom of it while you're gone." Janey smiled.
Kathy sighed wistfully. "I can't believe I have to leave tomorrow."
"Then stay," Janey said simply. "You're old enough to tell your family goodbye, to be your own woman and make your own choices."
