5
4
“Mikhail!” My scream cuts through the gunfire.
He pulls the red one. The timer stops at two seconds.
Two seconds from losing both of them.
Mikhail cuts the vest away and the zip tie binding Tony’s wrists.
For a moment, they just stare at each other.
Then Tony’s gaze shifts to the open front door, where Lorenzo is standing at the threshold, a gun in each hand.
“You should have died,” Lorenzo snarls, advancing on us. “You should have both died, and Mikhail should have watched it happen. That was the plan!”
“Your plan failed.” Tony’s voice is different now—clearer, stronger. The fog of Lorenzo’s conditioning is still lifted, and my brother still himself. “Everything you told me was a lie.”
“I saved you!” Lorenzo’s face twists with rage. “I gave you purpose! I gave you a family!”
“You gave me nothing but lies and manipulation.” Tony stands, and despite the blood seeping through his shoulder bandage, he looks stronger than I’ve seen him. “Sophia is my family. She’s always been my family.”
Lorenzo raises both guns, aiming at Tony and Mikhail. I’m already running.
My empty Glock is useless in my hand, but I’m moving anyway because I can’t watch them die.
A shot rings out.
But it’s not from Lorenzo’s weapons. It’s from behind him, from the rising sunlight where Ricardo Castellano emerges with his men, their weapons drawn and trained on Lorenzo’s remaining soldiers outside the house.
“Drop them,” Ricardo commands, his voice echoing off the metal walls.
Lorenzo spins toward the new threat. In that split second of distraction, everything shifts. Mikhail launches himself forward, tackling Lorenzo to the ground.
The guns skitter across the wooden floor as they grapple, two men locked in a brutal struggle.
Tony pulls me out of the line of potential fire, his eyes tracking the man who claimed to be his savior fighting with murderous rage against Mikhail.
“He never cared about me,” Tony whispers, and I hear the regret thick in his voice. “He never tried to save me. He only wanted to use me.”
“Tony.” I reach for him, but Mikhail groans, a shattered sound.
Lorenzo has Mikhail pinned, his hands around my husband’s throat.
A scream rips through me, but Tony is already moving, undeterred by the men raining bullets at him.
Tony tackles Lorenzo, his grip loosens slightly, giving Mikhail enough advantage to break free.
Lorenzo manages to scramble free as another wave of fire explodes through the room, grabbing one of his fallen guns, his face twisted with desperation.
Ricardo’s men open fire, not at Lorenzo but at his remaining soldiers.
The property erupts into chaos again, bullets lodging in walls and furniture, men shouting and falling.
Lorenzo grabs his gun and runs, not toward us but away, toward the hall and a back exit. He’s abandoning his men, abandoning his plan, choosing survival over victory.
“After him!” Mikhail staggers to his feet, blood dripping from his split lip.
