I stand there, not backing down, every inch of me alive with the weight of this moment.His hand trembles, just a fraction, as he grips the gun tighter.His eyes flash with that sick, twisted pride he’s always had in controlling everything.
I let my gaze drop to the phone in my hand, like I’ve got all the time in the world.
“Eight minutes,” I say, voice flat, disinterested.
“You really think you can outsmart me, girl?”
I meet his eyes and let a cruel smile twist my lips.
“I think we both know I have,” I say, my tone calm.“Because I know you.To prove your power, Matteo would already be dead.”I nod toward the gun, still pressed to his son's head.“But here you are, shaking like a coward, dick shriveled, hands trembling, too much of a pussy to pull the trigger.”
Fury simmers like acid just beneath the surface, waiting to eat through the last thread of control he’s clinging to.
Matteo shifts on the floor, subtle just enough movement to drag my attention.I flick my gaze to him, and I see it.That same feral heat that has always been our language.He’s telling me not to stop.Not now.Not when I’ve got this bastard by the balls.And that smirk… Jesus.That fucking smirk is just another flavor of foreplay.It shouldn’t thrill me.Shouldn’t make my breath catch, shouldn’t hit me with the force of a kiss meant to bruise.But it does.
“You don’t understand what you’re starting,” Matteo’s father growls, but there’s a tremor in his voice now, as if the weight of what’s coming is finally starting to land.
I arch a brow, head tilting with slow, deliberate intent.“Oh, I understand perfectly,” I murmur.“I’m not just ending this.I’m ending you.And let’s be honest, it’s been a long time fucking coming.”
He steps forward, eyes alight with that special brand of desperation men like him mistake for power.“You think blackmail’s enough?”he spits.“You think that will bury me?”
“I know it will,” I say, my voice cold as I close the distance between us.“The second those names go live, your world turns to ash.Every backroom deal, every bought politician, every filthy secret you’ve ever whispered into the wrong ear.All of it will be out and when the vultures see the king bleeding… they’ll feast on your fucking corpse.”
His hand jerks slightly, the gun trembling against Matteo.Good.Let the fucker shake.Let the same fear he shoved down my throat for years rot him from the inside now.
I glance at the phone again.“Seven minutes.”
His lips peel back in a snarl, face twisted with rage and something darker, something like panic.“Stop fucking counting.”
“I’m just giving you fair warning,” I say, voice cold.“That’s already more mercy than you ever gave Matteo.”
My gaze flicks to the body slumped nearby… my father, bleeding out into the cracks of the floor as if he’s trying to seep back into the earth and vanish.For half a second, something inside me twists, claws at my gut, begging me to look away.
Even in death, he’s still failing me.
My eyes drag back to Alessandro.I meet his stare and hold it like a fucking blade to his throat.“Time’s running out.So either kill your own son or let him go.Because in six minutes and thirty-seven seconds, everything goes live.”
Still, even after the threat, he doesn’t move.Doesn’t even breathe.
I take one step forward towards Matteo, owning the space, and I swear the walls hold their breath.
But the room shifts.
Every man in this room is waiting.Fingers still resting on triggers.Sweat beads on their foreheads.
No one moves, no one dares.
They’re waiting for a command that isn’t coming, from a king already dead, his crown slipping.
Chapter Twenty One
Matteo
I’monmyknees,the cold bite of the gun pressed to my forehead.Blood coats my tongue.Dust grits between my teeth.My arms are pinned back, muscles screaming under fists that won’t let go, but I barely fucking feel it.
Because all I see is her.
Emery.
