Page 80 of Pietro
"Not talking about this here," He growls, gesturing with his gun toward Pietro.
"Why not? Because you don't want Pietro to know what kind of father you really are?" I laugh again, the sound hollow. "The great Connor O'Sullivan, who'd rather let his daughter die than admit he made a mistake trusting Declan Wilson."
My father's face flushes with anger. "You're my daughter. Being with a Sartori is the biggest betrayal I've ever faced since your mother."
I freeze. "What the hell are you talking about? What does Mom have to do with this?"
The question hangs in the air for just a moment before the sharp crack of a gunshot echoes through the room.
My father crumples, grabbing his foot as blood pools beneath him. He howls in pain, his men raising their weapons in response.
Another crack splits the air, then another. Both men drop to the floor behind Connor, blood pooling beneath them.
I can't breathe. Can't process what I'm seeing.
"Get down!" Pietro yanks me to the floor, his body covering mine as he aims his gun toward the door.
Uncle Finn steps into the room, lowering a smoking pistol. His face is carved from stone as he looks at my father writhing on the floor, clutching his bleeding foot.
"Take her the hell out of here, Sartori," Finn says, his voice eerily calm. His eyes never leave Connor. "And don't touch a single hair on her head until I get to talk to you."
Pietro's arm tightens around me. "What the fuck is going on?"
"She's innocent in all this," Finn continues as if Pietro hadn't spoken. "You have my word."
"Your word?" Pietro laughs, the sound harsh and cold against my ear. "The word of an O'Sullivan?"
"I'll explain everything." Finn finally looks at Pietro. "You have questions. I have answers."
"Two hours," Pietro says after moments in silence, pulling me to my feet while keeping his gun trained on Finn. "You have two hours before I make her disappear."
My mind spins, unable to grasp what's happening. Uncle Finn just shot my father. Killed his men. And now he's... helping Pietro?
"What's going on?" I whisper, my voice cracking. "Finn?"
But my uncle's attention is fixed on my father, who looks completely undone. Connor isn't yelling orders or making threats. He just stares at his brother, face pale with shock and something that looks disturbingly like fear.
Pietro's hand closes around my wrist, dragging me toward the door. I stumble, still clutching the towel around me.
"The clothes," I manage to say, pointing to the bag Finn brought earlier.
Pietro grabs it without letting go of me. As we reach the doorway, I hear Finn's voice behind us, low and venomous.
"This is on you, Connor. All of it. Everything that's happened to her, is because of you."
Pietro pulls me through the door, but I strain to hear more, desperate to understand.
Pietro shoves me into the hallway, blocking my view with his body as he backs out of the room, gun still raised.
"Move," he orders, pushing me toward the exit.
My legs feel disconnected from my body as I stumble forward. What the actual hell is going on with my family?
"Pietro," I gasp as we reach his car. "I don't understand?—"
"Shut up." He opens the passenger door and practically throws me inside.
I clutch the bag of clothes to my chest as he slides into the driver's seat. His movements are precise, controlled, but I can see the fury vibrating beneath his skin.
