I pulled the knife from my sleeve, the blade glinting with evil intent. Straddling the son of bitch whose blood now coated my hands, I embraced everything about this moment. I knew it would be a memory I would cherish for the rest of my fucking life. A memory of revenge.
I leaned over him. “Tonight, this war ends with you being sent to the deepest pit of hell.”
He smiled through bloodstained teeth. “I guess I’ll see her there, then.”
I balked, the blade still in hand. “What?’
He laughed maniacally. He just laughed and laughed like a crazy person who knew his time was up.
I jerked him up by his collar. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your little whore just injected herself with an overdose of heroin.”
The wind was knocked right out of me, my spine nothing but layers of ice. “No,” I whispered.
“Oh, yes.” Matteo continued to laugh, blood pissing from his nose and mouth. It wouldn’t stop, the sound of victory that echoed through his laugh. It wouldn’t fucking stop…until I sliced the blade of my knife through the flesh of his throat.
A menacing laugh turned to a dying gurgle of blood. But it didn’t sate my bloodlust. Not even the sight of blood bubbling out of his torn flesh was enough. I lifted the knife, then screamed as I pushed it into his chest, feeling the blade hit bone. It was fucking euphoric, watching the life drain out of wounds inflicted by my knife.
I wanted to cut him open. I wanted to be true to my word by slicing him from nose to navel, but Lucio’s voice pulled me out of my murderous haze.
“Dante! He’s dead.” He pulled me off Matteo’s corpse. “He’s dead, man.”
I searched around me and caught sight of Stefano staring at me before looking down at his dead son. There was nothing. There was no sign of any kind of emotion on his face while he took in the image of the bloodied body of the only child he had left.
When his eyes met mine once again, that was when I saw it. The threat. The promise. The vow for revenge.
I grabbed Lucio’s gun, but when I aimed, Stefano had already jumped into the car. And with screeching tires, he drove away.
Lucio grabbed my shoulder. “I think your girl needs to get to a hospital.”
I rushed over to her still lying on the back seat of the car. Lucio was behind the wheel, starting the engine by the time I closed the door.
“Layla.” I grabbed her chin. “Layla, wake up. Wake up, baby.”
I leaned down, but the sound of my rapid heartbeat made it impossible for me to hear hers. “Please, Layla. Hold on. Just hold on.”
Hold on, Layla.
Please…
Chapter 21
Dante
I couldn’t lie. It had been hard adjusting. Ever since that fateful night, my life had never been the same. None of our lives.
I tried the best I could to move on. To forget the flashing images and relentless memories which did not give up on their pursuit to torture me. Every morning, I would sit at my bedroom window and look out at the sunrise. It was the only time I allowed myself to miss her. Only for those few minutes, I would let my heart bleed for her. After that, I would gather the strength to face the day by staring into my son’s eyes.
Rafe.
My son.
The reason I had to move on.
It had been weeks, yet it still felt surreal. I had a little boy, a boy who not only carried a part of me and a part of her inside him but who was also a symbol of what Layla and I shared.
I had missed so much. His first smile. His first word. His first step. And for a while, I resented how I would never have those memories. But I understood. I understood why Layla had felt the need to run, to protect our son from me, from our family. If I had been told the same lies, I wouldn’t have done it any differently. I would have done everything in my power to keep him safe, which was exactly what she had done. How could I begrudge the choices his mother made when it was her instinct to protect which dictated her actions? So for that, I thanked her. Deep down, I thanked her for only wanting to put our son first. Before herself. Before me. Before us. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.