“I never betrayed you.” I reach up slowly, carefully, and touch his arm. “I love you, Tony. You’re my brother. My family. Nothing Lorenzo told you changes that.”
“He killed our father.” But the certainty is cracking, I can hear it.
The gun lowers slightly, and hope flares in my chest. I’m reaching him. I’m breaking through Lorenzo’s conditioning.
Then Lorenzo’s voice echoes through the factory, amplified by hidden speakers.
“Touching reunion, isn’t it? But I’m afraid it’s time to end this little family drama.”
Lights flood the room, blinding after the dimness. When my vision clears, I see Lorenzo standing on a catwalk above us, surrounded by at least twenty armed men. We’re completely surrounded.
“Tony,” Lorenzo calls down, his voice almost paternal. “You know what you have to do. You know what she deserves for betraying your father’s memory.”
Tony’s grip tightens again, and the gun returns to my temple. But I feel the tremor in his hand.
“I’m sorry.” His voice breaks. “I’m sorry, Sophia. But you chose the wrong side.”
22
MIKHAIL
Time slows to a crawl as I watch Tony’s finger tighten on the trigger, the gun pressed against Sophia’s temple.
Her blue eyes find mine across the warehouse.
My Glock is already rising, my aim steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system.
I have maybe half a second to make the shot.
Too high and I kill him.
Too low and I miss entirely, and Sophia dies.
I aim for his shoulder and squeeze the trigger.
The gunshot echoes through the warehouse like thunder.
Tony jerks backward, his own weapon discharging harmlessly into the ceiling as the bullet tears through his right shoulder.
Sophia screams and drops to the ground, scrambling away from her brother as he crumples.
Lorenzo’s men open fire immediately, and I’m moving before my brain catches up.
I grab Sophia and drag her behind a stack of crates as bullets whine past our heads.
Marco and my remaining men return fire, the warehouse erupting into chaos.
“Tony!” Sophia struggles against my grip, trying to get back to her brother. “Mikhail, he’s bleeding!”
“He was going to kill you,” I growl, holding her tighter. “Stay down.”
Through the gunfire, I see Tony crawling toward cover, his left hand pressed against his wounded shoulder.
Blood seeps between his fingers, but he’s moving, which means the shot wasn’t fatal. Good. I need him alive.
Lorenzo’s voice cuts through the chaos, amplified by speakers I can’t locate. “Retreat! Fall back!”
His men scatter like roaches when the lights come on, dragging Tony with them.
