Every second counts for Chiara.
“I heard them talk. You are nothing more than the one to blame when this shit blows up,” I say in a bored tone, but inside, my heart is racing out of my chest in fear.
“Liar!” he screams at me, raising the gun to my forehead.
“Lina,” Chiara cries out, whimpering.
“No, no! She’s telling the truth! I heard it too!” Matteo chimes in, standing next to me, holding out his hands in a surrender motion to Roberto.
“Did you now?” he asks him, tilting his head.
“Si,you should let them both go, or they will just use you asspecora nera, and you are going to be the one who goes to jail,” Matteo offers, his eyes flicking down to mine, his guilt-filled gaze locking with mine before shifting back to Roberto.
“Idiota,” I mutter to myself, lowering my gaze and closing my eyes, not surprised when the next thing I hear is a gunshot before my face is splattered with blood, and the sound of a body falling to the floor fills the room.
“I told you to keep an eye on her, not to fucking fall for her,cretino!” Roberto shouts, and when I open my eyes again, I look down at Matteo on the floor. His eyes are locked on the ceiling, and there is a gunshot wound on his forehead.
Chiara is sobbing again, and Roberto swings the gun in her direction. “Shut the fuck up, whore!”
Panic surges through me once more, seeing him pointing the gun at her chest.
Not over my dead fucking body.
“Hey!” I shout, making him turn to me. “We weren’t done with our conversation.”
He laughs. “Oh, you just want to fuck with me today.” He steps in front of me and crouches down so we are nearly at eye level. “So, talk, have that conversation. It will be your last.”
“Tell mewhy. Why did they have to die?” I ask, partly hoping to give her more time and partly because I genuinely need to know before I die.
“Because your father didn’t know what was good for him and couldn’t keep his nose out of our business. The boss wanted him gone,” he explains matter-of-factly, tilting his head to look at me.
I bite my cheek. My father was a good man. It makes sense that he would’ve acted out after noticing that Roberto was involved in shady shit.
“But why her?” I ask, a hint of desperation in my voice.
“She shouldn’t have even been there!” he yells at me, straightening up and waving the gun. “He should’ve driven that car to work the next morning. How the hell was I to know they’d go out again that night? They always stayed home, and that one fucking night…” he stops, then turns to crouch in front of me again, “… she was just collateral, but the boss made sure I paid for it,” he seethes. “He really didn’t like her dying that night too.”
“Why did he even care?” I frown at him.
“He wanted her for himself. Everyone did. But she acted like she was too good for anyone other than your father,” he spits out, jealousy evident in his voice.
“What did you do?” I ask, my voice breaking.
My hand is slowly moving up my side from behind my back. Maybe, if I’m quick enough, I can knock the gun out of his hand, just like Clay showed me.
“I cut the brakes and jammed the accelerator.” He shrugs as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It wasn’t certain they would die. They might’ve made it. She might’ve jumped out, or perhaps, if your father had been a better driver…”
My stomach churns. “That makes no fucking sense. Why not just shoot him?” I ask, my voice rising.
“But where would be the fun in that?” He smiles wickedly at me, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “He deserved it for betraying his own blood.” The room seems to spin around me, my world crumbling as I grapple with the horrifying truth. My parents, the people who raised and loved me, were gone because of him. Because of his jealousy, his anger, and because my dad had morals, and that fucking asshole Del Moro has none. “Don’t you think it’s funny how she and the way she died were the reason I got kicked out, and now, you and your death are my ticket back in. Nearly poetic.” He smirks cruelly at me, caressing the side of my face with the muzzle of the gun. “It’s such a pity. Your mother was a beautiful woman. Those eyes,” he says, his voice turning sinister as he lowers the gun to my heart. “I think I’ll keep your sister alive, so I have my own little version of her. Oh, the things I am going to do to her,” he muses.
A surge of white-hot rage courses through me, andI. See. Red.
I yank his knife from my thigh and shoot my arm up so fast he has no time to react when I ram it full force into the side of his throat. Time seems to slow when the knife buries itself inside him, and I witness the shock and terror in his eyes mixed with a flicker of disbelief.
But then, a searing, excruciating pain shoots through me, pain like I never felt before. The sound of a gunshot shatters the air, echoing through the room, followed by Chiara’s terrified scream, calling my name in a desperate plea.
FORTY-NINE
