I can’t see or breathe right. Everything’s pain and blood and the desperate need to survive.
His hands find my throat, squeezing. Fuck, what’s with the choking? Black spots crowd my vision as I claw at his hands, trying to break his grip.
“I’m taking you with me,” Romano hisses, his face inches from mine, blood and spit flying. His own wounds are bleeding—the gut shot, the shoulder—but he’s running on hate now. “If I die here, so do you. Then there’s no one to protect her. No one to save your precious wife and?—”
My right hand is useless. But my left finds his wounded side, where my bullet went into his gut, and I dig my fingers into the wound.
Romano screams, his grip loosening just enough. I suck in air, still digging, feeling hot blood and torn flesh, pushing deeper even as he tries to pull away.
He releases my throat to grab my wrist, trying to pull my hand out of his guts. We’re both screaming now, both covered in blood—his, mine, impossible to tell anymore—rolling across the concrete like animals.
I get my leg up between us, plant my foot against his chest, and shove. He flies backward, hitting a support column with a sickening crack. I’m scrambling, crawling, reaching for my gun?—
Romano’s faster. Even wounded, even bleeding out, he’s fucking faster. His boot catches me in the ribs, breaking something with a wet crunch. I go down, gasping, my hand just inches from the gun.
He kicks the weapon away, then drops on top of me, his knee on my chest, pressing down on the broken ribs. The pain is indescribable. I can’t breathe or move. I can’t do anything but stare up at him as he pulls a knife from his boot.
“Should’ve done this three years ago,” he rasps, raising the knife. “Should’ve killed you after I killed Marco.”
Time slows down. I can see the blade coming down, and I can see my death in Romano’s cold eyes. Gigi’s face flashes through my mind—her smile, her tears, her laughter, the way her lips felt against mine when we kissed.
I’m not dying here. Not like this. Not now.
My hand finds something—a shard of metal, broken glass, I don’t even know—and I swing it with everything I have left.
It catches Romano across the throat.
Blood sprays, hot and copper-smelling. He drops the knife, his hands going to his throat, trying to stem the arterial spray. But it’s too late. There’s too much damage. His eyes go wide with shock and realization.
I shove him off me, rolling away, coughing blood. My ribs are screaming, my leg is numb, my shoulder ruined. But I’m alive. For now.
Romano’s on his back, hands at his throat, blood pumping between his fingers. He’s trying to speak, but only wet, gurgling sounds come out. His cold blue eyes find mine one last time.
I crawl to him, every movement agony, until I’m close enough to see the life leaving his eyes.
“That’s for Marco,” I rasp, my voice barely working. “And for my wife. That’s for everyone you’ve ever hurt.”
He tries to say something again, but then his hands fall away from his throat. The blood stops pumping. His eyes stare at nothing.
Romano’s dead.
I slump beside him, unable to move, and barely able to breathe. The warehouse is spinning, or maybe that’s just me dying. My eyes are heavy, and it takes everything in me to not close them and drift off to sleep.
“Luca!” Gigi’s voice, distant.“Luca!”
Damn, why is everyone screaming so loudly? Can’t I just take a fucking nap? Have they not seen what I just did?
“Boss!” Danny’s there, his massive hands on me scrabbling along my body, checking for injuries. “Jesus Christ, Viktor, get that medic over herenow! He’s—fuck, he’s got at least three gunshot wounds, broken ribs, possible punctured lung?—”
“Gigi,” I manage to get out, blood bubbling on my lips. “Is she?—”
“She’s fine. She’s right here.” Danny’s voice is tight with fear. “But you need to stay with me, boss. You hear me? Stay awake.”
I slowly turn my head and I can see Gigi now, crawling toward me despite her own injuries, her face swollen with tears. “Don’t you dare,” she’s sobbing. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me, Luca Marchetti. I need to tell you—we’re going to?—”
The darkness pulls me under before I hear the rest.
When my eyes flutter open—seconds later? minutes? who knows—Danny is staring at Gigi with an expression I’ve never seen before. Wide-eyed. Shocked. His mouth slightly open.
