NICCOLÒ

30. Stand Off

Niccolò moved fast, pushing Camilla out of the way and drawing his own gun before anyone could blink. He had his gun levelled at Leo in a heartbeat, blocking Camilla's view of the scene.

"What's happening?" he asked through gritted teeth, his jaw tight, his body poised. At first, no one answered; a bead of sweat was gathering on Leo's forehead.

"He pulled a gun," Elias revealed eventually, as Cee began to pull at Niccolò's arm, trying to get out of the lift, "when I asked him, very politely, to inform us of any weapons on his person." Leo kept his angry stare on Elias, who was staring almost too calmly down the barrel of a loaded gun, his posture loose and relaxed - as if he wasn't at risk of being shot, as if he wasn't holding a loaded weapon.

"Stop pointing guns at my brother," Cee demanded from behind Niccolò, to no response. Niccolò's men were loyal to the family, not to their boss's hostage. "Niccolò, please."

He ignored her, holding an arm out to prevent her from getting around him and into the line of fire. He was like a guardian angel - a dark angel fighting the wrong people; she couldn't get mixed up with this.

"I'm here for Camilla," Leo managed, glaring at Niccolò, his gun still trained on Elias; he looked stressed. Grief had clearly taken a toll on him, but the Fiero resemblance was clear. Cee leaned around her personal mafia-Don-bodyguard, trying to get a better look at her older brother; paler than usual, but looking somehow shadowed - he looked like death, like grief.

"She's not going anywhere," Niccolò replied forcefully, ignoring Camilla's indignant huff. She could hate him all she wanted, but she was not going to get shot - by her brother or his men - in crossfire. "Put the gun down before I decide to kill you slowly myself."

"Niccolò!" Cee's face was pale as he turned on her, backing her into a corner, leaning down to say something to her, and her alone, but the look in his eye terrified her: it was the cold look of a killer who'd killed before and would kill again, the look of a Don who'd kill her for spying.

"You can't," she whispered defiantly, lifting her hands to his chest to push him away, but he held her wrist tight, drawing her in.

"I can, and I will," he murmured, deadly certain, close to her ear. "I won't treat him any differently to anyone else that threatens you or my family." Cee tried to push him again, but he dragged her forward, pulling her into his chest to whisper. "I'll show him mercy in a quick death, Camilla."

To pull a gun on the Romanos, especially in one of their establishments, was a great disrespect. It could not go unpunished; the price was his life.

Cee felt herself go cold as Niccolò pulled away, turning back to her brother to shoot - she did the stupidest thing she'd thought of since voluntarily becoming the Romano's hostage.

She darted past Niccolò, only just evading his furious grab for her, past Niccolò's men, and flung herself into Leo's arms, wrapping her arms around his neck; if he was going to die, if she was going to lose her only living sibling, then she'd go too.

"Camilla." She didn't turn around, keeping her eyes squeezed shut with her forehead resting just above her brother's heart; she could hear how furious Niccolò was.

"Leo, please put down the gun," she whispered, begging her brother. "Please put down the gun. Niccolò- he'll hurt you."

She could feel her brother's arm shaking, sending tremors through his torso. "Just do it, Leo," she pleaded, loosening her grip on him and pulling back, reaching out a hand, slowly, towards his gun.

His eyes were locked on hers; the familiar brown irises that Catarina had shared. His eyes looked bloodshot, tired, almost manic; he didn't want to die like this.