As we race away in the car, a storm of anger and fear swells inside me. How could she be so reckless? How could she risk everything like that?
When the empty road stretches before us, I slam on the brakes, my heart pounding in my chest. I throw the...
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The door burst open with a loud bang, and I reacted instinctively, pulling Chiara behind me and shielding her with my body. Antonio stumbled through the entrance, collapsing near the door, blood staining his clothes. His groan echoed in the silence of the room, filling it with a foreboding chill. My heart pounded, my mind racing to process what the hell had just happened.
I stepped forward, about to kneel beside Antonio when I saw a figure striding into the room with a smug smile that made my blood run cold. Giovanni. My younger brother. He looked every bit as lethal as the last time I saw him, though now there was a twisted amusement in his eyes, something dark, something that told me he had planned this all too well.
“I expected better from my big brother,” Gio drawled, his voice casual, mocking, as he looked around the cabin. “Hiding out in a place like this? You’re getting sloppy, Gabriel.”
Behind him, I noticed a man following, his presence unmistakable even after all these years. Marco Moon—no, Marco Vittorio. His smile was serene, almost fatherly, as if nothing was out of place. The sight of him brought memories crashing into my mind. Marco had disappeared after Vincent Romano’s death, vanishing from the underworld, and yet here he was. I knew I should’ve expected this, but seeing him again, standing there, was like a punch to the gut.
Marco’s eyes softened as they landed on Chiara.
Chiara whispered, her voice barely audible, “Dad?” Her tone was filled with disbelief and confusion.
Marco. Chiara’s father. Of course. Marco had been Vincent’s consigliere, his right-hand man. He had been closer to Vincent than anyone else, like a brother. It wasn’t hard to piece it together now—the way Marco had vanished after Vincent’s death, but not before taking a word from me, a promise, that I would protect Chiara. He had known everything.
Marco smiled gently, though there was something cold and calculating behind his eyes. “Chiara, mio fiore,” he said, using the childhood nickname her father used to call her. “You don’t have to be scared. Come here, give me a hug.”
But Chiara didn’t move. Instead, she clutched the back of my shirt tightly, her fear palpable. I could feel her trembling, but she stood firm, refusing to go to him. My chest tightened with a mix of anger and protectiveness. She had every right to be scared, even if she didn’t fully understand why yet.
Giovanni chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the tension in the room. “This is rich,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “The mighty Gabriel Romano, brought down by his own weakness.” He turned to Antonio, who was barely conscious, and kicked him roughly out of his way, sending him sliding across the floor.
“Gio,” I growled, stepping forward. “You need to walk away. Now.”
But Gio wasn’t listening. He never did. His smirk widened, and in an instant, he lunged at me. I was ready for it. We collided, our fists flying, the sound of our struggle filling the cabin. Gio was fast, but I had trained harder, longer, and I landed several hard blows, but he kept coming, relentless in his attack.
The fight felt like it lasted forever, the room spinning as we exchanged punch after punch. But then, out of nowhere, Marco stepped forward, calm as ever, and before I could react, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the room.
The searing pain hit me like a truck, and I staggered back, clutching my side where the bullet had torn through my flesh. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. I collapsed to the floor, blood spreading beneath me, soaking into the wood.
“Gabriel!” Chiara screamed, rushing to my side. Her hands trembled as she pressed them to the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.
Marco pulled her back with surprising gentleness, his expression cold as he looked down at me. “He’s a betrayer, Chiara,” Marco said softly, almost sadly. “He made a promise to me. He swore he wouldn’t fall in love with you, but he did. And now look at him—unworthy. Weak.” His eyes shifted back to me, filled with disdain. “He’s not worthy of you, mio fiore.”
The betrayal in his words cut deeper than the bullet wound. I tried to move, tried to stand, but my body wouldn’t respond. The pain was too much, and the room was starting to spin, the edges of my vision darkening.
Gio stood over me, his smile smug, triumphant. “This is just the beginning, Gabriel,” he sneered. “Payback starts now.”
He turned and strode toward the door, his mission complete. Marco, with Chiara still in his grip, followed closely behind. She was fighting him, her face streaked with tears, screaming my name. “Gabriel!” she cried, her voice raw with emotion. “Gabriel, no! Don’t leave me!” Her voice pierced through the haze of pain, but I was powerless to respond.
Marco dragged her out of the cabin, ignoring her cries as if they meant nothing. I could barely see them now, my vision fading, but the last thing I saw was Chiara, her beautiful face twisted in anguish, her eyes locked on mine.
And then she was gone.
The cabin fell into a suffocating silence. Blood pooled beneath me, the life draining out of me with every second. My body felt heavy, too heavy to move. I couldn’t even lift my head. My breathing slowed, my chest aching with every shallow breath I could manage.
Chiara’s voice echoed in my mind, her cries for me the last thing I held onto as the darkness crept in. She was the one thing I couldn’t lose—the one person I had sworn to protect. And I had failed.
I had promised to keep her safe, to keep her away from this world of violence and betrayal, but in the end, I had only pulled her deeper into it. I had betrayed the promise I made to her father. I had let her down.
The last words I heard before the darkness consumed me were my name, whispered in agony from the woman I had sworn to protect, the woman I had failed to save.
