“Shut up,” Vitale snapped, his voice ringing cold and sharp off the rock walls.
Other sounds floated up as Enzo descended. Water. Waves slapping against stone. The scrape of something heavy being dragged.
At the bottom of the winding staircase, Enzo dropped into a low crouch and eased forward just enough to take a look around the curve of the wall.
A speedboat sat in the center of the cavern, its hull bobbing gently in the dark water. Vitale stood near it with one securityguard, both struggling with heavy duffel bags. Rocco and Bianca hovered off to one side, the tension between them thick and volatile.
“You are a fucking disaster!” Rocco screamed. “You owe me!”
“I owe you nothing,” Vitale shot back. “You want Valardi dead, kill him yourself.” He waved sharply at his guard to move faster, irritation etched into every line of his face. “That’s your problem. You don’t have the stones. You want Valardi dead, you want your sister gone, but you don’t have the balls to do it because you’re still afraid of your grandfather.”
Rocco snapped.
He shoved his gun straight into Vitale’s face.
“Get out of my fucking way!” Vitale screamed, knocking Rocco aside.
Enzo rose smoothly, gun steady.
“Stop.”
The single word cracked through the cave like a gunshot.
Every head snapped toward him.
“Shoot him!” Vitale shrieked.
The security guard dropped the bags and went for his weapon.
Too slow.
Enzo fired once.
The man flew backward, his body slamming into stone, lifeless before he hit the ground.
The shot thundered through the cave, echoing and multiplying until it felt like the walls themselves were screaming.
Silence followed.
Rocco stared at Enzo, chest heaving.
“Drop it,” Enzo growled.
Rocco let out a howl of pure frustration, spitting curses in Italian, but his hand shook as he released the gun. It clattered uselessly to the stone floor.
Bianca suddenly surged forward.
“Oh, thank God,” she sobbed, lunging at Enzo. “You came to save me?—”
“Get off me,” Enzo snarled, shoving her back. She was in the worst possible place, between him and Vitale, and he didn’t have time for her hysteria.
“Bastard!” she screamed, then lunged again.
He pushed her more forcefully, and she fell hard at Vitale’s feet, sprawling on the wet stone.
Vitale straightened slowly. Then he smiled.
“Well,” he said, lifting his hands, far calmer than any man had a right to be. “It has come to this.” He tilted his head. “What now, Enzo? The police will be on their way with all that gunfire. You and your friends broke into my home. You shot my men.” He shook his head sadly. “I was afraid for my life. A tragic misunderstanding. A sad day when your own friends turn against you.” His smile sharpened. “You should run while you still can.”
