The fire behind us is growing, smoke billowing through the broken windows of the church and painting the night sky in shades of amber and ash. Sirens wail in the distance, growing closer, and Magnus's men shift nervously as the chaos threatens to attract exactly the kind of attention they cannot afford.
And then a gunshot cracks through the night, and my father crumples to the ground with a scream that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.
I spin toward the sound and see him.
Rafael Milano emerges from the smoke like a demon walking out of hellfire, his white shirt soaked through with blood that I pray is not his own. His dark eyes find mine across the chaos, and the look in them is something I have never seen before.
Pure, unfiltered rage.
"Bullet for bullet," he says, looking at my bleeding father. His voice carries over the crackling flames and the distant sirens with the weight of a death sentence delivered.
All hell breaks loose.
Rafael
The church burns behind me, and I do not care if it takes the whole block with it.
The only thing that matters is Persia. Her violet hair is wild around her face, her cheek is swollen and bruised, and thereis blood dripping from a wound on her palm that makes me want to tear Magnus Sterling apart with my bare hands.
Which is exactly what I intend to do.
The bullet I put in Barret Fiore's shoulder was surgical, deliberate, payback for the one his gun put in mine hours ago at my father's house. He writhes on the ground clutching the wound, and I step over him like the garbage he is as I advance toward the man who thought he could take what belongs to me.
Magnus's men surge forward to meet me, and Drake and Konstantin materialize at my sides like shadows given form. The three of us move as one unit, years of violence and brotherhood forged into something that functions with the precision of a well-oiled machine.
I take the first man with a knife to the throat, the blade sliding home before he even registers the threat.
Blood sprays hot across my already-ruined shirt, and I am moving to the next target before the body hits the ground. Drake's gun barks three times in rapid succession, and three more men fall. Konstantin fights like the Bratva-trained killer he is, all brutal efficiency and zero mercy, breaking necks and snapping limbs with an ease that would terrify me if I did not know he reserved that violence exclusively for enemies.
Magnus is backing away, dragging Persia with him as a shield, and the gun he presses against her temple makes my blood turn to ice in my veins.
"One more step, Milano, and I’ll spill her brains." His voice carries the desperation of a man who knows he has lost but refuses to accept it. "You think I won't do it? You think I care about anything except making sure you suffer?"
I stop. Raise my hands. Let him see that I am no longer advancing.
"Let her go, Magnus." My voice is steady despite the inferno raging through my chest. "This is between you and me. She has nothing to do with the decades of bad blood between our families."
"She has everything to do with it!" Spittle flies from his lips, and the gun trembles against Persia's temple hard enough that I see her wince. "You took her from me. You humiliated me in front of everyone that matters. You think I am going to let that stand? You think I am just going to walk away?"
"I think you are going to die tonight." I let the promise settle into the smoke-thick air. "The only question is whether it happens quickly or whether I make you suffer first. Let her go, and I will be merciful. Keep that gun against her head, and I will make what I do to you last for days."
Something shifts in the chaos around us. Fiore has dragged himself to his feet, clutching his bleeding shoulder, and he is staggering toward Magnus with desperation written across his sweat-slicked face.
"We can still salvage this," he wheezes. "The blood contract is signed. Genesis will honor it. We just need to—" It takes me a minute to realize Magnus is speaking to Persia. Like she’s going to agree to his lunacy.
Something inside the church explodes. Magnus turns his head toward the interruption for exactly one second.
It is enough.
Persia drives her elbow backward into his solar plexus with the full force of a woman who has been pushed past her breaking point. The gun discharges into the air as Magnus doubles over, and she tears free of his grip and throws herself to the side just as I put three bullets center mass into the man who is made of pure evil.
Magnus Sterling hits the ground with his eyes still wide with surprise, and the blood that pools beneath him gleams black in the firelight.
Fiore screams something incoherent and lunges toward me, but Drake intercepts him with a brutal efficiency that leaves the former governor face-down on the asphalt with his arm twisted behind his back at an angle that threatens to dislocate.
"Please." Fiore's voice is a pathetic wheeze. "Please, I was just trying to protect my family. You have to understand?—"
I crouch beside him and let him see exactly what lives behind my eyes when all pretense of civilization has been stripped away.
