I slam my mouth to hers in the middle of gunfire and iron and the scream of sirens buried in my ears, tasting blood and terror and something better than sin. Better than prayer. She kisses me back like hell doesn’t scare her because she’s already living in mine.
The moment burns.
Then it’s gone.
I rip myself away and turn before Carlo can carve another inch of spine out of me.
For her.
Not for revenge.Not for rage.
For the woman who dragged me out of my grave with a shaking hand and a smoking gun.
I take the stairs three at a time.
Above me, Carlo’s smile carves wider when he sees me coming.
Good.
Let him watch what he dies for.
Let him see the truth I just woke up in:
I don’t need to be protected.Neither does she.
Together, we are something holy and catastrophic.
And Carlo?
Carlo is just another confession that ends in blood.
Carlo’s Last Gambit: The Truth About Giovanni
The metal stairs scream under my boots as I take them in a blur of heat and momentum. My arm is on fire now—skin swelling, nerves screaming, pain leaking into everything.
I welcome it.
Pain means upright.Breathing.Moving.
Carlo is already retreating at the top, pistol braced in both hands, eyes bright and hungry like a man about to cash in a bet.
“Easy, Bishop,” he says, voice slick as oil. “You think killing me fixes anything?”
I don’t answer.
I hit the mezzanine, and the air between us goes electric.
“I know what Giovanni did,” Carlo snarls. “I know what he planned. I know Romeo. About your mother.” His grin is obscene. “About Pia’s father. All of it. And if you kill me—no one will ever hear the real truth.”
The words hit harder than a bullet.
Not because I believe him.
Because part of me already does.
Boots thud behind me—one more soul climbing into hell. I know she’s there before I feel her.
Pia stops at my side, breath ripped ragged, eyes tracking Carlo like he’s prey and poison at the same time.
