She leaned her head to the side, remorse carved all over her face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Don’t.”
“Is he safe?”
I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t fucking breathe. “Yes. Our son is safe. So you don’t have to do this.”
She closed her eyes, and I saw a moment of sheer relief drop over her face like a veil—then pushed the needle into her arm.
The heart she had returned, the heart she had with her all this time, cracked into a thousand pieces, slicing through my insides. My soul screamed, yet I didn’t make a sound as I watched the woman I loved succumb, allowing the poison to carry her mind far away from reality.
Matteo laughed. “Isn’t it a sight, Dante? It’s almost as good as seeing her come with my cock buried inside her pretty little cunt.”
That was the moment the animal in me broke through its cage, forcing me to storm forward, so possessed with the need to kill that I no longer cared about Matteo having an upper hand.
My voice roared, thunder echoing in the distance. Red spread from the corners of my vision, an inferno of fury raging inside me, catapulting me to the object of the bitter hate that turned me into a mindless demon.
It was one moment which seemed to play out over a thousand heartbeats. Matteo turned his gun, aiming straight at me. But I was no longer in control. My sanity, my humanity, my fucking life had been torn from me the second she pushed that needle into her flesh.
“Dante!”
I heard the shot. And then I saw the crimson.
Every sound went on mute. Every action took place in slow motion, and for a second my mind couldn’t make sense of what was happening.
I blinked. I breathed. And then I screamed. “No!”
My legs felt too weak to push me off the ground, so I scampered across the asphalt to where my father lay bleeding.
More gunshots echoed around me as I hunched over my father, crimson oozing out of his chest. “Dad. No.” I placed my hands over the wound, blood seeping through my fingers. “Jesus. No!”
Antonio slammed into me, his hands over mine as we tried to stop the bleeding. More gunshots sounded around us, but I lost all grip on reality. Every fucking second felt too surreal. Everything was wrong.
My dad’s eyes fluttered open and closed as he struggled to breathe. “Save her, Dante.” His whisper came out with a gurgling sound, and he coughed violently, choking on his own blood. “Save her.” His eyes closed. My heart stopped.
“Dad!” Antonio yelled. “Dad, no!”
Thunder. Lightning. Gunshots. Chaos.
All I could do was watch as my father let out his last breath, life being ripped out of him within a single moment. And then I screamed. I fucking cried out as reality slowly started to infuse with the excruciating pain of watching my father die. This was not how it was supposed to happen. My father dying was not part of the fucking plan. In fact, I was the one ready to die for the people I loved. I wasn’t ready for anyone else to die except the fuckers who thought they had the power to play God with all our lives.
I looked up, sound starting to return, the chaos and mayhem pulling me back to the here and now. And then I saw her. Layla. Her limp body being dragged by the man who would die by my hand.
“Matteo!” I roared, and then I was on my feet, running toward them.
He struggled to get Layla in the car, and when he aimed his gun in my direction, it was too late. I was already there, knocking the gun out of his hand before I flung my fist, my knuckles connecting with his jaw.
Layla fell against the seat of the car, flaccid and lifeless. I felt the pain straight through to the marrow of each bone as I witnessed how helpless and fragile her body was against the drugs. To them, she was nothing more than a pawn, a weapon to use in this war against us. But to me, she was everything. To me, she was the world, and by using her, Matteo had fucked with what was mine.
In other words, he had to die.
Matteo scurried off the ground, but I kicked my boot into his spine. Like a useless piece of shit, he tried to crawl away from me, but I planted my heel into his back once more. Behind me, I knew the war was raging on. But I only had one goal which drove my every action. One score to settle.
With a snarl, I grabbed the back of Matteo’s jacket before hurling him around. He tried to fight back, but he was no match for the wrath which had taken possession of me. My hate demanded violence. It craved carnage. Every drop of blood that spat from Matteo’s face was ecstasy to me.
I slammed my fist into his face. Again, and again, and again.
If you have to slit the throat of every motherfucker who threatens your woman, then you do it with a goddamn smile on your face.