Page 16 of Claimed By My Stalker

Enzo opens it up and passes it back to me.

“There is a traitor among us, a snitch, a murderer.” I wave a hand at them “Don’t worry, I know who he is and I’m going to fish him out. Put an end to all of this.”

I walk past each of them, looking them in the face as they avert my gaze, all twenty-two of them. There is one more person I haven't looked at; Enzo. That's because, unlike the others, he didn't form a line, he was right behind me, where he’s always been, guarding me, helping me, being my shadow.

I turn around to face Enzo and fire a shot in his leg.

The assembled men are too stunned to speak, Rosa stares at me like I’m out of my mind. Enzo clutches his bleeding leg and stares at me with clenched teeth. His eyes are unapologetic, emotionless. I tip the open bottle of Campari and spill the contents over him.

“Why did you do it, Enzo? It took me this long to realize it was you because I wasn’t ready to admit it. I tried very hard to believe you would never do such a thing.”

He bows his head without a word waiting for me to take the last shot. Enzo isn't a man of many words, I know his body language more than anybody else's and I know at this moment that he's ready to die. No explanations or pleading for his life.

I close my eyes and clutch my chest, I’m experiencing a heartache, a literal one.

I aim the gun at his head and pull the trigger, it’s the loudest I’ve ever heard and even after it’s over it doesn’t seem to stop echoing.

I walk over his body, my footsteps on something I guess to be his brain matter.

“Somebody clean this up,” I yell.

They all seem to be in more shock than me, everyone that knew me would swear I couldn't hurt Enzo, I didn't know I was capable of putting a bullet through his head either. I try not to think much about it for fear that I will bend.

“Dismissed!” I yell at the others.

_ _ _

PuttingEnzo down flipped something in me, something I can’t explain. He received a call after his death, the voice relayed a message, something about the boss wanting to know if the plan worked.

I had the call traced, the precise location was one of Bruno's warehouses. Bruno crosses my mind and I get an insatiable urge to get more blood on my hands. No backup, no escorts, no plan, just an urge to pound his head in till his skull breaks and his brain spills on the floor like Enzo's.

I storm out of my study and walk out of the house staying out of sight. I don’t want to be sighted by Carrie, not now, not like this, she’s the last person I want to see me like this.

Heading towards my garage, I snatch one of the car keys from Luca and walk past him without a word. He looks like he wants to ask where I'm headed but the words fail him, the poor lad is still in shock from seeing Enzo killed in such a manner. I still have the gun in my trembling hand, I can feel their fear as if it's my own.

_ _ _

I returnthat night drenched in the blood of my enemy. I spend the next few hours in the shower trying to get the essence and smell off me. I throw my blood-soaked clothes into the fireplace and watch them burn. I mourn the death of Enzo and the love I had for him. I would have opened a drink to celebrate Bruno's demise but most of my drinks are compromised.

Restless and disturbed, I take a stroll to Carrie's room. I find her fast asleep, breathing lightly as her body heaves beneath the covers. I crawl up the sinking bed and snuggle up next to her.

Peace envelopes me and despite all the inhuman things I did hours ago, I'm starting to feel a little bit human again. It's the Carrie effect. I haven’t had a good night's sleep since I received Jake's autopsy but finally, I feel some peace with Carrie in my arms.

Just when I'm starting to give in to sleep, I hear a loud gasp from her.

I spring awake and it seems like I almost have a heart attack. Carrie lets out a shrill scream, when I grab her arm, she struggles to break free and tries to jump out of bed.

“It’s okay. Shhh, it’s just me.” I assure her

“Carlo?” She looks astonished to see me next to her. “How… When did you get here?”

“Not too long ago.”

She tries to regulate her breath despite the rapid rising of her chest, but I find her still shaking.

“Are we alone? It’s that feeling again.”

“Did you have a nightmare?” I ask.

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