He stalks down the hall in the direction of my office as I summon Thomas, leaving through the front door.
Opening the car door for me, I falter, noticing the other car in the driveway pulling away.
Every nerve ending sizzles, the veins solidifying my blood.
It’s the car from the pictures. “Whose car is that?” I ask Thomas, who looks in the direction of my stare.
“The blonde lady, Hannah, arrived in it, sir.”
No fucking way.
My legs take off running. I race through the house, crashing through the door to my office, my eyes taking in the scene.
“No!” I cry out, water filling my eyes as Marcello stands behind Alyssa, her body jarring forward, a gasp fleeing her lips as a crimson stain spreads across her abdomen.
Her eyes spring wide, looking at me to save her. Her phone clatters to the ground.
My gun is pulled in seconds, but she’s still in his hold. He has a gun in his hand, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, aiming at someone on the floor beside them.
Antonio.
“Why?” I roar.
“The fact that you don’t know shows what a self-involved prick you are. How about Annemarie?” He rubs the gun against Alyssa’s cheek.
She’s fading, her back slouching against him, blood dripping down her leg. “I asked you to step in to keep that wedding from happening.”
“Annemarie didn’t fucking love you!” Antonio screams from his position on the carpet. He’s bleeding from the foot.
Marcello growls, aiming the gun. He shoots into Antonio’s shoulder, jerking him backward, a painful grunt slipping from his lips.
“Everything okay in there, sir?” Thomas asks through the door.
“Tell him yes or Alyssa gets another hole,” Marcello warns through gritted teeth.
“Yes. Fine. Leave me,” I bark, turning my attention back to Marcello. “I went to Annemarie. She didn’t want to be with you, Marcello. I’m fucking sorry, but she didn’t want it.”
“Liar,” he spits out. “That was my kid in her belly.”
“No!” Antonio cries.
“That’s why she killed herself,” I breathe, my insides churning, my soul weakening with every passing second of Alyssa still bleeding out right in front of me.
This is karma. All those people I’ve killed in front of their loved ones… Fuck, I can’t breathe.
This can’t be happening. It was Marcello this whole time.
“You’re lying.”
“She left a note. I didn’t want Antonio or you dealing with the pain, so I didn’t let it be known. I hid it from you both.”
“I don’t believe you,” he roars, Alyssa choking in his hold.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’ve never felt so helpless in all my life.
“Did you kill our mother?” Antonio asks, my head whirling. She was his aunt.
He loved her.
He couldn’t
“After you told me what he heard our mother’s talking about, I confronted my mom. She killed my father in his sleep because your mother couldn’t keep his dick out of her whore cunt,” he sneers.
Alyssa groans, tears streaming down her cheeks, her breathing becoming labored, her legs giving out.
He fucking drops her to the ground, his gun aimed at me.
“I had fun killing Serena too, but you didn’t really feel her death—not like I did with Annemarie. I planned for you to want Hannah, marry her, then leave crumbs for you to think it was Antonio doing the killing, have you tear each other down, and then little ol’ me, the one always second, always in the shadow of Luca Leto, would take it all. But you never liked Hannah, so when Alyssa took your interest, everything was still going to work out exactly how I planned, only Hannah went and ruined everything,” he tuts, nudging Alyssa’s legs.
“I was looking forward to having that beauty in my bed.”
We both fire at the same time, my bullets making purchase as two of his pierce my skin, burrowing into my arm and shoulder.
We fall to the ground, guns still aimed. I pull myself behind an armchair while he props himself up behind my desk.
I need to get to Alyssa.
Pulling out my phone, I bring up Thomas’s number and text.
It’s Marcello.
Two seconds go by, and the door opens.
Shots ring out, and I’m on my feet, moving through the room, around the desk, my gun to Marcello’s head while he’s distracted with Thomas coming through the door.
“It’s over,” I announce, pulling the trigger, the shot loud, turning my stomach.
His body slumps over, limp and it fucking hurts seeing him like that, my insides churn, my head pounding.
I drop the gun and cradle Alyssa up into my arms, her body floppy as I lift her, ignoring the screaming of my own wounds, she’s so fucking pale.
“Get the nurse and car ready,” I bellow, rushing through the house, a flurry of feet moving opening doors for me. Thomas follows me out, Antonio over his shoulder.
Getting into the car, I lay her over my lap, touching two fingers to her neck. A faint pulse thumps against my skin.