Page 279 of Merciless Desires

“Dominov is a fucking moron for messing with me. I can’t wait to play in his fucking blood.”

“Sir…” Genovesi began and stood, pocketing his phone. “I worry…that you don’t want to see what Dominov has done. We should clear the location first, secure it, get the women to a safe location, and then you can go in.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? My wife!” I yelled, closing my eyes to attempt to reel myself in. “Marcella is making it to our wedding. So is my mamma, Gisella, and the fucking wives. I’m not losing her. I’m not fucking losing her, Genovesi.”

“I understand…but…”

“Where the fuck is Noemi?!” Papà’s demand was delivered to anyone who was listening. He stormed into the room, fixing everyone with a pure fucking death glare. “Figlio.”

“We have Mamma’s location. We are waiting.”

“For what?!”

“For Marcella.”

Papà scoffed and cursed under his breath in Italian. “She is the reason for all of this! Weakness! That’s all she is!”

“She’s not fucking weakness!” I got in his face, snarling back at him. “Dominov has your fucking weakness too, old man. And Moretti’s, Neri’s, Calbresi’s, and Palazzo’s!”

“Your mamma is not my weakness.”

“Bullshit,” I scoffed. “You just barged in here demanding to know where she is. Not wife number seven, or that fucking bitch you brought to my engagement party. You fucked up with Mamma. I’m not doing the same with Marcella.”

Papà sneered at me. “She won’t marry you.”

“Vaffanculo.”

“Her lips are so sweet…” He ran his finger along his lower lip, and he was distracted enough by his taunting that I landed a punch to his fucking nose with ease.

Blood spurted from his nostrils and he cursed at me in Italian, stumbling back.

“No wonder she can’t stand to be around you. Try to kiss her again and see what happens, old man.”

“You’re threatening me?” Papà’s words were muffled behind his palm.

“Smettila!” Genovesi hollered, stepping between us. “Dominov has stopped. They’re all in the one location. We need to move now.”

Dominov’s guards were scattered across the property, far enough apart that it made them all easy targets. We cleared the grounds, and it didn’t take long before we had the building surrounded.

Mazzi and Moretti had followed Dominov to the abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn that was far too close to ours, but not as hidden. Anyone could walk into this building, and maybe that had been the goal.

With a nod, Mazzi slipped through the door first, the obvious sacrifice. He didn’t have anyone to lose. I did, Papà did, and so did Moretti.

No matter what we said, he’d refused to stay behind. He was determined to get in and get Gisella, and he was on strict orders to leave as soon as he had his middle daughter.

At the sound of gunfire, we swarmed the main door, guns raised, and followed Mazzi’s trail of carnage to the main area of the first floor. The only thing that kept me pushing forward was the screaming.

Marcella’s screaming.

Her screaming shifted to begging, and I blindly shoved my way through gunfire and Russians to get to her.

Marcella was on her knees, staring up at Dominov, who held a gun to her forehead and was yelling at her in Russian. The white wedding dress she wore was torn and covered in blood and dirt.

I didn’t think. I raised my gun and aimed for his head. As I pulled the trigger, one of his men yelled his name. He turned, and the bullet blew through his earlobe instead of his fucking skull.

But that wasn’t what surprised me more.

It was the fact that it wasn’t Dominov. It was Lombardo. A man who had been an associate for a year. A man who had been in my home more times than I could count. A man who had been stationed outside Marcella’s room.

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