Page 48 of Blood Lust

How had I not known Mario had secretly been amassing a small army to overthrow me and take over? It all made sense now. That was why he hadn’t told me about Antonio. Not only was he trying to buy his loyalty, but he was also going to blackmail him to get Alia.

The joke was on him because I’d beat him to it, and I had no regrets.

“You weren’t supposed to be any the wiser. Antonio would promise her to me. Hell, he had already agreed to encourage her to accept my offers to take her out, but then you had to have her too. Well, guess what? I’m taking it all back. The Chicago family, my rightful position, andmy woman.” He was nearly snarling, he was so angry, but I could promise him his rage didn’t match mine.

The difference between us was that I knew how to keep mine in check when I needed to. My outlet would come later when it was safe to do so. His took over.

What I didn’t expect was that Vittorio wouldn’t arrive in time.

Nor did I expect Mario to pull his gun on me. I didn’t think he actually had the balls. I was wrong.

“Bye, little brother,” he announced as he pulled the trigger.

The first one hit my shoulder. He was always a lousy shot. The second one hit me in the chest, and the burning agony stole my breath away. My biggest regret was that I didn’t get to see my Lia one last time.

The third hit my side, and I flew back. When I hit the floor, my world started to go black. The last thing I saw was the dark crimson pool of my blood as it grew by my head.

“Heaven (Little By Little)”—Theory Of A Deadman

I’d tried to call Gabriel to see if he was on his way, but his phone kept going to voicemail. Since I was using the preprogrammed number he’d already put in my phone, I had no idea if it was a burner or his actual line.

Something wasn’t sitting right with me, and dread was pooling in my guts.

“Alessio, have you heard from Gabriel yet?” I asked for the twentieth time.

“No, and I can’t get Vittorio to answer now either,” he replied as he dropped his phone from his ear. I could tell he was getting a little concerned too.

“Alia?” The faint, raspy sound of my name had me spinning to the bed.

“Dad!” I rushed back to his side. “Oh my God, I was so worried. What happened? Who did this to you?”

My questions poured out one after the other.

“Alia, easy, he’s been through a lot. He needs to stay calm,” Alessio quietly murmured in my ear.

“No,” my dad choked. “Mario. He’s gonna kill them. This was a ploy to get Alia away.”

“What?” both Alessio and I asked in disbelief.

But before my dad could say another word, his eyes went vacant, and every fucking alarm in his room was going off. A bunch of people in scrubs came flying in with a cart and started issuing orders. It was sheer chaos.

“Ma’am, sir, we’re going to need you to step out into the hall,” one of the nurses told us as she tried to sound calm. “We’re going to see to your father, okay?”

“But—”

“Alia! Let’s go!” Alessio demanded in a clipped tone before he grabbed my arm and propelled me out of the room. Once we were in the hall, he kept moving. “Pietro, Emanuele, let’s go. Now. The rest of you stay here.”

We didn’t wait for the elevator. Alessio shoved through the stairwell doors and practically dragged me down the stairs. Pietro went ahead of us, the other guy pulled up the rear, and I was doing my best to keep up and without falling. As we flew down flight after flight, Alessio told Pietro and Emanuele what my dad had said.

Upon hitting the first floor, we hurried toward the front entrance. Pietro suddenly stopped and spun us around. We cut down another hall and raced toward the door we saw at the end.

Emanuele burst through and looked around before motioning us out. Trying not to draw attention to our exit yet still hurry, we were walking fast and keeping our heads down. A dark car beeped when Emanuele hit the fob in his hand. Pietro ripped the door open, and Alessio ushered me inside the vehicle before he dove in after me and slammed the door.

Pietro dropped into the driver’s seat, and Emanuele got in the other front seat. We were peeling out of the parking lot before I could collect my thoughts.

Traffic was terrible, and I was silently crying as Pietro honked his horn and drove like a madman. It seemed to take forever before we were squealing into the parking garage and taking the elevator to the penthouse.

“Fucking hell,” Pietro grumbled as he pounded on the penthouse button repeatedly. Not that it did any good, but I understood.

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