“Sign,” Dan growls, lifting his gun a fraction.
Magnus clicks his tongue, feigning disappointment, like we’re the ones letting him down. He snatches the pen in shaking fingers and scrawls his name, like a man signing away his last breath.
I scoop up the papers, folding them neatly. I don’t let my hands shake. Not in front of him.
Elio steps into the container, head low, his hands in his pockets as if he’s taking pity on his old friend.
Magnus spits. “You traitor. You working with them now? Since when did you side with a fucking Bianchi?”
“Since I saw what you did to my sister. You piece of fucking shit.”
He laughs. “We made a deal. You gave her to me to do as I please.”
“She was still my sister, and you disrespected her and me.” Elio raises a gun. “I should kill you myself. I’m well aware of your midnight dock activities with the Messinas. If anyone’s a traitor around here, it’s you.”
“If anyone is going to kill him, it’s me,” I say, holding the gun steady in my hand. I cock my head, taking in the weak man before me who looks nothing like the powerful man he once was. The man who could command the full casino he ran as soon as he stepped foot in the door. A man I at least respected before I married him and realised what a monster he was on our wedding night. I swallow the bile threatening to spill out of my mouth as memories flash through my head.
“You’re not worth the bullet,” I say coldly. “It’d be a waste.” For the first time, I see him for what he really is: small, pitiful, powerless. He never owned me. He never will.
I turn my back on him and on the past,on every scar he left on my body and my soul, and step out of the container into the clean night air, taking a deep breath and filling my lungs with the salty sea breeze.
Magnus laughs, thin and broken. “She spares me!” he shouts after me, as if that grants him some dignity.
But as I turn back around, Dan steps forward, casual, like death itself in a suit. He lifts the can of petrol Riccardo hands him and pours it over Magnus’s head, soaking his trembling frame.
Magnus’s bravado crumbles instantly. “No. No, stop. Please. Don’t do this. I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again.” Magnus crawls backward, but Riccardo and Elio block his escape, guns raised, cold and remorseless.
Dom lights a cigarette in the corner, watching like a man enjoying the final scene of a play.
“You think you get to walk away?” Dan’s voice is gravel and flame. “She may be able to show you mercy…” He drops the empty can to the floor. “But I’ll never forgive you for what you did to her.”
Magnus pisses himself, terror pooling at his feet.
Dom plucks the cigarette from his lips, flicks it into the container.
The fire catches fast, roaring up Magnus’s legs as he screams—a sound that doesn’t touch me. Most people would flinch. Gag at the stench of burning flesh, or turn away as his skin peels. But I don’t. I just watch, unmoved. Like Dom.
As the flames take Magnus, I don't see a man burning. I see my past torment; I see my present fear. And I see my future freedom. A freedom I’ve spent years fighting for. Through the smoke, I breathe easily for the first time in years. He tried to break me, but watching him burn, I’ll never be afraid of shadows again. And from the ashes, we’ll build a fresh start.
I watch the flames rise higher through the gap of thecontainer doors as Riccardo and Elio walk out of them, followed by Dan, a dark silhouette with fire behind him like wings on a phoenix.
The men stand around as if watching a bonfire on Guy Fawkes night, but Dan comes to me, his eyes still dark with vengeance, flames still roaring behind him, giving him an orange aura like an angel. My angel.
His eyes soften when they meet mine under the veil of night. He threads his fingers through mine and leads me back to the car.
As we climb in, I let out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding for over thirteen years. “You really are the angel of death,” I murmur, as the glow of fire reflects in the rearview mirror.
Dan gives me a slow, dangerous grin. “I prefer Mr. Inferno.”
I can’t help but match his smile, despite the scent of death and burning flesh carrying on the breeze. For the first time in my life, I’m finally free. “I thought you were going to let me handle things?”
“You didn’t really think I’d let him live, did you?” His jaw tightens. “His fate was sealed the moment he laid a hand on you. I just wish I’d known sooner. When I was watching from a distance, you always seemed so happy when you were married to him.”
“I learned to put on a mask. I pretended to have the perfect marriage for our son.”
He swipes a blonde strand of hair from my cheek, the brunette roots now overtaking the cheap blonde dye I once hid behind. “You’ll never have to pretend again. We will have the perfect marriage if you’ll have me.”
“You know I will.” I lean over to kiss him, his lips warm and tender, just like our first kiss. “I’ve always been yours, D’Angelo.”
