Chapter 47: Chapter 47

Elnora stared at her bloodied hands, her mind struggling to reconcile the surreal reality around her. She had once led a life defined by lines of code and digital puzzles, where the biggest challenge was the searching for her father’s whereabouts. Now, the very idea of that quiet, introverted existence felt like a distant dream, shattered by the violence that had dragged her into this hell.

Donni lay bleeding at her feet, the life slowly draining from his broken body. His loyalty to Mason was the only reason he was here, and by extension, she was the reason he was dying. She felt a strange mix of guilt and admiration—he’d risked everything for her simply because she was Mason’s woman. Could they be friends? The thought was absurd. She shook her head, wiping her tear-streaked face with a trembling, bloody hand. Mason and Donni didn’t do friendship. They did loyalty, and that was enough.

Leaning down, she pressed her ear to Donni’s chest, desperate to hear a heartbeat. It was barely there, faint and fading, and her heart clenched in fear. He had been through so much—beaten, shot, and still he had fought for her. She doubted he would survive, and the realization brought a wave of grief crashing over her.

From down the corridor, Marcy limped toward her, pain visible on her face with every step. “Come on, El, we need to get out of here now.”

Elnora sniffled, her hands shaking as she wiped at her nose, smearing blood across her face. She looked down at Donni, unconscious and unmoving, the makeshift bandages she had applied doing little to stem the tide of his injuries. She had done everything she could, but it wasn’t enough.

“We can’t leave him here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “And you can barely walk yourself.”

Marcy’s eyes were wide as she looked around. “So what, El? Are you just going to let him die for nothing? We need to get out before Joe’s people come back!” She tried to pull Elnora to her feet, but Elnora slapped her hand away.

“He’s not dead, Marcy! And I’m not leaving him, or you!” Her voice cracked as she fought back tears.

Marcy winced, unable to kneel beside her due to her own injuries. “El, you’ve got to snap out of this! I saw the camera feeds. M is right outside. I know how to get us there!”

Elnora blinked rapidly, her eyes scanning the blood-stained corridor, the bodies littering the floor around them like discarded dolls. It was all so grotesque, so unreal, and yet, it was her reality now. Donni had killed them, even in his weakened state, even while shielding her from the worst of it. But now, he was paying the price, and she was paralysed by indecision.

She looked back at Marcy, her eyes hollow, her breath ragged. “I won’t leave him to die here, Marcy. I can’t.”

It was a fucking mess and she hated it. Hated the fact that she was so useless, a bloody liability. If Donni didn’t make it, Mason would hate her, and she couldn’t even blame him. She couldn’t protect herself, let alone Mason’s top lieutenant. That was the only reason Mason had sent Donni to take her to safety: because he trusted him implicitly, and for someone like Mason, that was rare.

Her hands trembled as she fumbled for the phone in Donni’s pocket, pressing the redial button for Benny. She paced back and forth, tension knotting her stomach as the line rang and rang, with no one picking up. Marcy watched her quietly.

When the call disconnected without an answer again, a spike of fear pierced Elnora’s heart. Something was wrong. Mason would never ignore her call, especially not now.

With a frustrated cry, she hurled the phone to the ground, the sound of plastic cracking against the concrete. She moved to one of the lifeless bodies, ripping off his jacket. “I’ll tie these into a sling, and we’ll use it to pull Donni to the elevator,” Elnora explained to Marcy.

“Joe’s men are watching the elevators,” Marcy reminded her.

“You’ll can get them to back off, can’t you? They won’t hurt you because Joe’s your….whatever the hell he is.” Elnora’s words were cold, but she didn’t care right now. She peeled off the jackets one by one, her fingers slipping on the blood-soaked fabric, then sprinted back to Donni’s side.

“There are men coming this way. We need to get out of sight!” Marcy whispered, hobbling toward her, the pain spiking her voice as she tried to move quickly with the injury.

“Leave if you want, Mace,” Elnora snapped.

Marcy grabbed her arm, her tone sharpening. “It’s time to snap out of this! This guy’s gone!”

“His name is Donni, and I will not leave him here!” Elnora shouted, her voice breaking, but before she could say more, Marcy clapped a hand over her mouth.

Both women froze, eyes darting toward the hallway, straining to hear if the guards had caught their raised voices. But it was too late—they had. Elnora rose to Marcy’s side, and Marcy gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, though the fear in her eyes betrayed her bravado. The sound of heavy boots echoed in the corridor, and soon, four armed men appeared, their faces hardened with cruel intent.

“Mace, you shouldn’t have come down here. Should have made a run for it,” Elnora whispered.

“And leave you to have all the fun?” Marcy replied before she stepped in front of Elnora.

“You’re both coming with us,” growled the man with a yellow bandana, motioning for two of his cronies to grab them. “And you—dispose of the bodies,” he added with a jerk of his head toward Donni and the others.

“Do not touch him!” Elnora snapped, dropping to her knees beside Donni and shielding him. “I don’t care where you take us, but he’s coming.”

The thug snarled, his hand tightening on his weapon. “Listen here, you little bitch—”

Before he could finish, Marcy slapped him hard across the face, the crack of her palm against his skin echoing through the corridor. “Call her a bitch again, you filthy thug!” she spat. “I fucking dare you!”

Her brows shot up as she watched the stand-off between Marcy and the thug with the yellow bandana. Did she not see the guns trained on them? The man’s face twisted into a furious snarl as he advanced on Marcy, teeth bared like an animal about to strike.

“Hey, don’t mess with me or Joe will toss you off the roof,” Marcy warned, ignoring the madness dancing in the thug’s eyes. “We’ll follow you, but he’s coming along, so move your ass.” She threw a cold glance at him before turning to Elnora, as if daring him to challenge her.

Elnora’s lips twitched into a faint smile as she struggled to her feet, stepping up beside Marcy. This was classic Marcy—always the one to get them both into deeper shit.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Marcy snapped at the thug. “Get him up and let’s go.” She pushed past him, heading toward the elevator with a confidence that was either foolish or brilliant. Maybe both.

Elnora’s gaze flicked to the two men struggling to lift Donni. The fourth thug, the one who had been dealing with the bodies, eyed them warily, while the man with the bandana trailed behind Marcy, clearly pissed off by her audacity. They grabbed Donni roughly by the collar of his shirt and started to drag him.

“Be gentle with him, he’s hurt,” Elnora said. They glared at her, and something inside her snapped. Rage, hot and bitter, surged through her veins. “He has two bullet wounds below his sternum, knife stabs in his belly, four broken ribs, and internal bleeding. If he doesn’t make it out of here alive, I promise you when his very murderous, mafia friends show up, I will make sure they will make you wish you had been more careful!” she hissed. “Now, lift him up gently.”

The men exchanged a glance, then adjusted their grip on Donni, draping his arms over their shoulders as they shuffled forward, trailing behind Marcy. Elnora followed closely, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. She had never felt such a volatile mix of fear, sorrow, and pure, unfiltered rage. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire. If her heart survived the horrors she had witnessed today, it was stronger than she gave it credit for.

They reached the elevator and entered without a word. The man with the bandana, now knotted tightly over his bulging bicep, swiped a key card over the panel and pressed the lobby button.

Elnora’s eyes flickered to Marcy just as the elevator began its descent. Questions swirled in her mind, but there was no time to ask them. How had Marcy managed to get down here without a key card? She couldn’t have used the stairs with that injured leg. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. The priority was getting Donni out of this alive.

The elevator glided to a stop, and Elnora exhaled a shaky breath. When the doors slid open minutes later, the sight that greeted them made her stomach twist into knots. Joe stood there, flanked by several more armed men.

All Elnora wanted was to escape this nightmare, to get as far away from the guns and the violence as possible. But there was no running from it now. Not with Joe standing in their path.

“What are you doing here?” Joe asked, eyes fixed on Marcy.

“Getting El out of here.” Marcy stepped out of the lift and approached Joe.

The first thing he did was glance at Donni before turning his gaze to Elnora, inspecting her from head to toe.

“How in the hell did this happen? El, are you hurt?” Joe asked.

His question surprised her, a mockery of concern from the man who had threatened to kill her not long ago. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Was he really asking if she was hurt? Wasn’t that his intention?

“No,” she murmured, then she stepped out of the elevator, her attention on Donni, who was being carried out by two of Joe’s men. His pulse was faint—almost gone. Panic twisted in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. If Donni died, she would never forgive herself. They would, could have been good friends.

“What happened to him?” Joe barked at the men around him, his gaze narrowing as he took in Donni’s condition. “They can’t see him like this! Get the doctor downstairs right now!” He snapped his fingers at the thug with the yellow bandana, who scrambled to obey.

Elnora ignored the flurry of activity around her, focusing instead on Donni’s barely-there heartbeat. She pressed her hands against her temples, trying to push away the growing dread. If Donni didn’t make it…

“They tried to escape,” one of the men muttered, but Elnora didn’t bother to look up. It didn’t matter now.

Joe’s voice cut through her thoughts. “What’s the situation outside?”

“It’s a stand-off,” the same voice replied. “The Castelli family might be having an internal power struggle with the former management. As you know, these things don’t end well. I suggest we wait it out in here.”

Elnora’s head snapped up at the mention of a power struggle. Ric and Mason? The thought of those two going head-to-head troubled her. Had Enrico really decided to challenge Mason now, after everything he’d caused? Rushing past the men, she headed for the lobby, slowing down as she approached the glass doors.

She saw Mason and exhaled a sigh of relief. He was okay. In spite of the chaos around him, he looked phlegmatic with an almost detached confidence as he spoke to… Amelia? Elnora’s eyes widened. And Enrico, right beside her.

Closer to the front of the building, Benny and the remaining Castelli soldiers were standing down, held at gunpoint by men who bore a striking resemblance to Castelli soldiers—Amelia’s men. This wasn’t just a stand-off between Ric and Mason. This was the De Lauro against the Castelli.

“Oh no,” Elnora whispered, feeling a cold dread settle over her. The dynamic between Mason, Amelia, and Ric was finally beginning to make sense. It was Mason against them.

Joe sidled up beside her, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Worried about your boyfriend?”

Elnora’s eyes remained fixed on the scene outside. “That woman is here to prevent him from handing Enrico over to you,” she said. “You’ll never get your revenge unless you help me get rid of her.”

Joe glanced at Amelia, then back at Elnora. “Your boyfriend wants my head after he hands Enrico over and he looks like the type who would beat me to death simply for the fun of it,” he laughed. “But if they kill him, my head stays intact. It’s a win-win for me.”

Of course. Mason getting hurt—or worse—would play right into Joe’s hands. Elnora’s eyes flicked to Marcy, who was standing beside a man whose face tugged at her memory. Where had she seen him before? Marcy’s voice pulled her back.

“Do you still doubt me? Ric is the bad guy, a complete asshole,” Marcy said, her tone matter-of-fact.

Elnora’s gaze shifted back to Joe. “This is why I told you you’d lose, Joe. Look at him—does he look worried to you?” She cocked her head, letting her words sink in. “You’ve lost before you even started because you’re letting fear do your thinking for you. If you were smart, you’d help him. Gain an ally who won’t just hand you Enrico on a platter but will also owe you a favour. That’s how you win in the underground, Joe. Play the field. Stop playing chicken and grow some balls.”

Joe’s dark, calculating eyes bored into her, and Elnora felt her impatience spike. He needed to come to the realization that he had to grow some balls fast—before it was too late for her to hack into Mateo’s system and take control of those drones. Good thing Giorgio brought them along, or she wouldn’t have been able to help in time.

“Well?” she pressed. “What’s it going to be?”

Joe’s lips curled into a reluctant smirk. “What do you need?”

A sigh of relief escaped her lips. “A laptop. I need to take control of those drones.”

“Follow me,” Joe said, turning toward the far end of the lobby. Without hesitation, Elnora followed. This was her chance to turn the tide, and she wouldn’t let it slip away.