Page 65 of The Enforcer's Possession
She was Lombardi and De Luca both now.Blood on her hands from both families.Capable of the darkness both our worlds required.
And fuck if that didn’t do things to me I absolutely couldn’t afford to examine right now.One of my men glanced at Caterina with something like respect.“Nice shooting, Mrs.De Luca.”
She nodded acknowledgment but didn’t respond.Her attention was fixed on the secured door, on the electronic lock one of Rizzo’s tech specialists was working to bypass.Every second stretched, tension building as we got closer to either rescue or catastrophe.
“Thirty seconds,” the tech specialist announced.“Bypassing the last security protocol now.”
I positioned myself in front of the door, Glock raised and ready.Rizzo and two of his men took flanking positions.The others spread out to cover additional angles in case this was a trap designed to funnel us into a kill zone.
Caterina stood behind me and slightly to the left, exactly where I’d indicated.Her pistol was back in her hands, held with steady confidence now.She’d proven she could use it.Proven she would.
“Ten seconds.”
I caught her eye one last time before the door opened.Saw her fear for her brother mixing with the fierce determination that had gotten us this far.Saw the woman who’d cried in my arms and the woman who’d killed to save my life existing simultaneously in the same person.
“Five seconds.”
Whatever waited behind this door, we’d face it together.Partners in violence and blood and desperate hope.
The lock disengaged with a heavy clunk.The door began to swing open, revealing darkness beyond.
And somewhere in that darkness, Marco Vitale was waiting with Luca Lombardi’s life in his hands.
Chapter Seventeen
Caterina
The door swung open and the smell hit me first -- sweat and blood and fear concentrated in a concrete box.The single bulb hanging from a wire cast sickly yellow light that flickered like it was dying, throwing shadows that made the chamber look bigger than it was.And there, slumped against the far wall like a broken doll someone had thrown away, was my brother.
“Luca.”His name tore from my throat before I could stop it.
His face was a mess of purple bruising, one eye swollen completely shut, the tissue around it so puffy it didn’t look real.Blood had dried in rust-colored tracks from his temple down his cheek, more of it caked around his split lip.His designer hoodie -- the gray one I’d teased him about spending too much money on -- was torn at the shoulder and filthy with what looked like oil stains and dried blood.His wrists were raw meat where rope had bitten into them, the skin abraded down to weeping flesh in places.
Dante had assured me Marco wanted Luca alive.I had to wonder what had transpired to make them beat my brother like this.He’d looked whole and unmarked in the video.Had he tried to escape?Or had they merely wanted to beat on someone who couldn’t fight back, like the cowards they were?
But Luca was alive.He was breathing.I watched his chest rise and fall with each labored breath and felt something in my chest unlock.
His good eye widened when he focused on me.Relief flooded his battered face, followed immediately by terror.“Cat.You shouldn’t be here.You need to --”
I was already moving, holstering my gun as I crossed the space between us.My entire world had narrowed to my little brother slumped against this filthy wall.
“Shh,tesoro, I’m here now.”I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands hovering over his face because I didn’t know where to touch that wouldn’t hurt.“Dio, what did he do to you?”
“I’m okay,” Luca lied, trying to straighten up and failing.“I’m --”
“You’re not okay.”My hands were shaking as I cupped his face, gentle as I could manage, tilting it toward the flickering light to see the damage better.The split in his lip was deep enough that it probably needed stitches.The swelling around his eye looked like it extended to the orbital bone beneath.“Did he break anything?Your ribs?Your arms?”
“Don’t think so.”He winced as I probed his ribs through his torn hoodie.“Cat, you need to get out of here.Marco --”
“Marco’s going to die tonight.”The words came out flat and certain.I moved to the ropes binding his wrists, my fingers fumbling with knots that had been tied tight enough to cut off circulation.“Just breathe, okay?We’re getting you out.”
The rope was rough against my palms, the knots swollen from Luca’s struggling.I picked at the first one, my nails breaking against the hemp fibers, my hands shaking so badly I kept losing my grip.This was my fault.All of it.Marco had taken Luca because of me, had beaten him because I’d rejected the wrong psychopath’s proposal, had tied him up in this concrete hell because I’d thought I was being clever marrying Dante instead.
“Stop.”Luca’s good eye fixed on me with intensity that cut through his pain.“This isn’t your fault.”
“How can you say that?”I got the first knot loose, started working on the second.“He took you because of me.Because I --”
“Because he’s a sick fuck who would have found an excuse anyway.”Luca’s voice was getting stronger, anger overriding his fear.“Don’t you dare blame yourself for what that bastard chose to do.”
