Page 153 of Dirty Mafia Torment
“You take one side, I’ll cover the other.”
I don’t argue. I charge forward, every muscle coiled, every sense razor-sharp, ready to tear through anyone who stands in my way.
On either side of the nave, the aisles stretch long and narrow, framed by towering arches built to make men feel small. Light bleeds through stained glass, painting the stone in color. Incense clings to the air, thick and cloying. Alcoves draped with heavy curtains line the way, candles flickering inside, statues of saints staring down like cold judges on sinners rushing past. The aisles curve toward the back, funneling into shadowed corridors. I pull aside curtain after curtain, kick open closed door after closed door.
No sign of them.
I return to the group and catch Sandro’s eyes, troubled and tense. He shakes his head, and I curse under my breath.
A man rushes forward, holding up a bag from the fair. “Found it near the bloodstain by the main door. It’s empty.”
A second man steps forward, ready to give up. “Maybe they’re gone? We’ve checked everywhere.”
I punch him square in the face, breaking his nose. “Look harder.”
We were just warming up, Fina and I. Just starting a future. I hadn’t even told her I loved her yet.
I arch my head back and roar, the sound bouncing off the stone and echoing through the shadows. “Fina!”
A runner approaches Sandro. “Boss, there’s an empty van around the backside of the church, and the door into the lower level’s locked.”
“Show me.”
They charge off as I still. I breathe deeply, calming my mind, panic clouding my thinking. I replay what I’ve seen, the alcoves, the back rooms, the corridors darkened by heavy curtains pulled tight.
I retrace my steps, this time yanking curtains aside until l find a stairwell leading below.
Fuck. How much time did I waste? How did I not find this sooner?
My footsteps echo off the stone steps as I descend into the church’s bowels. “Fina,” I call, throat hitching. I chant her name, push deeper into the room. “Fina. Fina.”
“Renzo?”
Relief slams into me. “You okay, babe?”
“Nope.”
My grip tightens on the gun.
Riley’s voice trembles from the dark. “We’re over here, Renzo. Is Sandro with you?”
I find them, shadows in a room filled with tombs. “Coming,” I tell her, my focus locked on Fina. “You hurt?”
“I’ve hurt much worse than a bullet nicking me.”
Something in her tone twists my gut, and I struggle not to lose my shit. “Where is he?”
“Emo?” she says calmly, like that motherfucker wasn’t hunting her down.
What the fuck am I missing?
“If he hurt you?—”
“He’s right behind us. By the door.”
I surge forward, gun ready, shoving the women behind me.
Suddenly, the door crashes open and light erupts into the room, Sandro hot on its heels.
