Page 67 of The Enforcer's Possession
Luca whimpered.The sound cut through me like a knife.
“Don’t,” I said, and some of my calculated calm cracked.“Marco, please.Whatever you think I did to you, Luca had nothing to do with it.”
“He has everything to do with it.He’s a Lombardi.He’s your weakness, and the leverage I needed to prove that your choices have consequences.”Marco’s voice was rising, losing its polish, revealing the barely controlled violence underneath.“You think you can reject me?Humiliate me?There’s a price for that, Caterina.There’s always a price.”
I took another step, felt rather than saw Dante moving behind Marco.Almost there.Almost.
“You’re right,” I said quietly.“There is a price.And you’re about to pay it.”
I gave the smallest nod.Barely a movement at all.
Dante struck.
I’d watched him kill all night, had seen him move with the brutal efficiency of someone who’d spent years perfecting violence.But this was different.This was personal.This was the man who’d threatened his wife and taken his brother-in-law, and Dante was done being patient.
He closed the final distance in a blur of motion, his hand striking with viper speed.I saw him grab Marco’s wrist -- the one holding the gun -- with his left hand while his right came down in a savage chop against Marco’s forearm.The impact sounded like wood cracking.Marco screamed, his fingers spasming open, the gun clattering to the concrete.
But Dante wasn’t finished.He twisted Marco’s wrist with controlled savagery, rotating it past the point where joints were supposed to bend.I heard the wet snap of bones breaking, saw Marco’s face contort with pain that wiped away all his polish and arrogance.His mouth opened in a howl, but Dante was already moving, already executing the next part of the takedown.
Dante’s leg swept Marco’s feet out from under him while maintaining his grip on the broken wrist, controlling Marco’s descent as he crashed to his knees on the filthy concrete.The sound of kneecaps hitting stone made me wince.Marco tried to pull away, but Dante was behind him now, wrenching both arms back with enough force that Marco’s shoulders strained forward at an unnatural angle.
“Don’t move,” Dante ordered, his voice flat and cold.“You move, I dislocate both shoulders before I break your neck.”
Marco was gasping, his face pressed toward the concrete.Tears and snot ran down his face -- not from remorse but from the pain of his shattered wrist and the humiliation of being forced down like an animal.
I heard the distinctive zip of plastic restraints.Watched Dante secure Marco’s hands behind his back with the kind of zip ties that would cut into skin if he struggled.Watched him tighten them with deliberate precision that made Marco cry out again.
“Shut up,” Dante said quietly.“Or I’ll break the other wrist just to give you something real to scream about.”
Marco shut up.But his eyes -- when he managed to lift his head enough to look at me -- were full of rage and hatred and promises of violence that would never be fulfilled.
I couldn’t look at him anymore.I moved to Luca, dropping back to my knees beside my brother who was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering.The gun was gone from his temple, the immediate threat eliminated, but the terror was still coursing through his system.
“It’s okay.”I pulled him against me, wrapped my arms around him as carefully as I could manage given his injuries.“It’s over.You’re safe now.”
He made a sound against my shoulder that might have been a sob or a laugh or both.His good eye was leaking tears, his body trembling with the aftermath of thinking he was about to die.I held him and let him shake, let him process what had nearly happened, while behind us Dante stood over Marco’s kneeling form.
The most prominent sounds were Luca’s ragged breathing and Marco’s occasional gasps of pain.The team had held back, letting Dante take the lead.Even they had known he needed to do this on his own.
The flickering bulb cast harsh shadows that made the whole scene look like something from a nightmare.Blood on the concrete.Weapons scattered.My brother beaten and traumatized.Marco on his knees with his wrists bound.
I looked up at Dante over Luca’s head.Found him watching me with an expression I couldn’t entirely read.Pride, maybe.Satisfaction at the takedown.Something darker underneath that looked like possessive approval.
He’d trusted me to play my part in the distraction.I’d executed it.We’d worked together like partners instead of captor and captive, and we’d saved my brother’s life.
But we weren’t done yet.Marco was still breathing, still conscious, still staring at me with eyes full of obsessive hatred.Still a threat as long as his heart was beating.
I stood slowly, helping Luca shift so he was leaning against the wall instead of depending on my support.My legs felt steadier than they had any right to.My hands had stopped shaking.Something cold and certain had settled in my chest during the takedown, something that felt like rage crystallized into purpose.
Marco had taken my brother.Had beaten him.Had terrorized him.Had held a gun to his temple and promised to paint this concrete with his brain matter.
Someone needed to pay for that.And it wasn’t going to be Luca or me or my family.
It was going to be the man kneeling on this filthy floor with his broken wrist and his ruined plans.
“We need to get you to a doctor,” I said quietly, refusing to let go of my brother just yet.
“I’m okay.”His voice was still hoarse but steadier now.“Cat, I’m okay.”
