2
Emilia
The steel of the gun has been pressed against my skin for so long it’s no longer cold. I wonder if the bullet inside still is? I don’t know much about weapons or ballistics in general, but if the trigger is pulled, I’ll be dead before my brain has a chance to register pain.
I guess that’s comforting.
My fear of dying is nothing compared to the agony of watching Maximus decide my fate. His face has been an expression of boredom along with the occasional mask of indifference. From his words to his body language, he doesn’t care about me. At all.
It would be nice if my heart, like my brain, would die before it has a chance to register pain.
“You know that my brother’s nomination isn’t enough to guarantee anything,” Maximus says evenly. “And I’m not going to let your greed ruin my reputation.”
My father shifts his stance. “You stole her from me and from Rossi. The other families assume we made an alliance, but you and I know different. And while we’re on the subject, why did you take Emilia?”
“I needed a wife to satisfy my brother’s edict, and I wanted it to be someone who wouldn’t play the games that women do,” Maximus says. “And I don’t want kids, so I don’t need a woman for that.” He relaxes his arms, and they fall to his sides. “I was going to have her committed when enough time had passed. The underworld believes she’s fucking crazy anyway, and no one would care if I had her locked up. If you had to get married, wouldn’t you want an easy out like that?”
Did I get shot?I can’t feel any part of my body. Numbness coats me from head to toe and from the outside in. My heart beats, my blood flows, and my breathing continues, yet I’m dead.
Fuck all men.
My father chuckles, and even that sound doesn’t anger me like it should. “You might be your brother’s bitch, but I can see why he keeps you around, Silvestri. We’ve wasted enough time. Either make the fucking call or I’m leaving.”
“Very well,” Maximus says. He pulls out his cell phone, and the conversation is quick, a lot faster than I thought it’d be. Considering how much he hates my father, I thought this would be a hard decision for him.
Apparently, I was wrong. About him and so many other things.
“It’s done.” Maximus puts the device in his pocket and purses his lips. “You should receive an email shortly as proof my brother sent in your name to be considered.”
Not more than thirty seconds later, a pinging noise sounds. My father finally removes the pistol from my skull and lowers his arm to retrieve his phone. I assume that’s what he’s doing, since I can’t see him.
“I got it,” Caruso says. “Well, she’s all yours.”
My father shoves me so hard I fall, landing on my hands and knees, bits of gravel tearing into my skin. Maximus takes a step toward me, but I refuse to look at him, choosing to let my hair shield me. The throbbing of my knees, which took the brunt of my impact, barely penetrates my mind.
But the gunshot does.
Already close to the ground, I flatten myself and then cover my head. All around me the loud bangs of the weapons firing cause my heart to stutter in my chest. I’m too frightened to move, and I’m not sure it’s safe to do so, even if I weren’t scared out of my damn mind.
At the feel of someone grabbing my arm, I gasp and my head snaps up, searching for the source. Maximus hauls me to my feet and half carries me until we’re crouched behind one of the semitrucks. Through the strands of my hair, I watch him shoot and take cover, handling his weapon with a confidence I want to admire.
“Don’t let that motherfucker escape!” His shout causes me to jump, but Maximus is too preoccupied to notice. “Stay here, Emilia.”
He gives the order without looking at me, and then he’s gone. I scoot over until I can peek around the vehicle’s taillights. Bodies are scattered about, but none of them are my father, much to my disappointment. Maximus walks over to where Leone and some other man are holding my abductor between them. My husband speaks to him, and though his voice is so mild I almost can’t make out his words, his body is rigid to the point he could be made of stone.
“You may not know me,” Maximus says to Pascal, “but if you did, you’d understand how fucked you are right now.” The knife in his hand catches the glow of the building’s motion-sensor lights. and there’s a gleam along the length of the blade. He lifts the man’s head by placing the metal tip under his chin. “Now tell me, who ordered you to take my wife?”
When Pascal doesn’t answer, Maximus grins. It’s maniacal. Not once has he ever looked at me like that. If he did, I’d be tempted to snatch that knife from his hand and slit my wrists. I know with certainty there’s no chance my abductor will live.
And good fucking riddance.
In a flash of movement, Maximus plunges the blade into Pascal’s shoulder. The man’s grunt of pain crescendos into a scream when my husband twists the knife ever so slowly. I clutch my chest in shock and morbid fascination.
“Did you really think you could put your hands on her?” Maximus asks. It’s not really a question though. His tone is full of disbelief, not genuine curiosity. He yanks out the blade, the blood coating it, creating the illusion it’s now black, and stabs Pascal in the opposite shoulder. “My wife is not to be touched or fucked by anyone except me. She is mine, and I will kill anyone who threatens her, but first I’ll make them bleed. One drop of blood for every tear she shed, and one scream for every ounce of pain she felt.”
I shudder when Maximus rotates the blade again. Pascal’s cries echo down the street, and my stomach spasms with nausea. Dizziness assaults me, forcing me to sit on the rough ground and rest against the vehicle. I want justice more than anything, but I can’t witness this brutality, even if I’m not against it happening. Pascal deserves to die, and so does my father, who’s gone…
And one day the Silvestri family will finish what they started.
