AÂ line of light entering the claustrophobic cell through a slit under the door is my focus point. Curling in the corner, I hug my knees, rocking back and forth. The room is cold, the floor damp. The stifling stench of wet concrete and mold makes me nauseous.
A tray with food Luca brought when he threw me in here sits where he left it, untouched. A cockroach swims in the watery oatmeal, struggling to escape the confinement of a metal bowl. His attempts are desperate, as if he mocks me for giving up. I accepted my destiny. Iâm waiting for death to arrive, the Grim Reaper in a black leather jacket with Danteâs face, a gun in his hand instead of a scythe. He has every right to kill me. My father wonât come to my rescue; his triumph is the only acceptable outcome. Saving me means defeat, and Frank is too proud to go down without a fight.
The surrounding four walls will be my prison until my body gives up from tiredness, thirst, or hunger. Or until a bullet penetrates my head or heart. Frank wonât give Dante the North regardless of how much hurt Dante can bring upon him. Even if he kills me, Jess, and his men. Until Frank is no longer breathing, North will remain under his command.
I rest my forehead on my knees. Thereâs no sleeping in this place. Iâm exhausted, but fear keeps me alert. Unwanted pictures of the moments I spent with Dante flood my mind whenever I close my eyes. I remember every touch of his lips, every night spent in his arms, every look of his green eyes, and I loathe myself more with every second.
Heavy footsteps echo outside the door, clapping loudly in the still, silent space. My heart tries to make a run for it, climbing to my throat. I squeeze into the corner, trembling and hiding the bandaged hand to protect my remaining fingers. I jump, startled by the sound of keys hitting the concrete floor.
âFuck,â Luca clips.
Apart from the bowl, the cockroach, and the tray, nothing around could be used as a weapon. No hole to hide in. The door swings open with a loud creak letting bright light filter inside the room. My fear threatens to turn into a full-blown panic attack at the sight of the cigar cutter in Lucaâs hand.
âEenie, meenie, miny, mo. Which finger will you give up voluntarily, Layla?â He basks in his power, smiling maniacally.
I canât speak, move, or force my eyes shut.
I donât want to see or feel, and I no longer want to live.
âIâm kidding. You can keep your fingers.â
My eyes dart to his face. Heâd only spare me if Frank surrendered to Dante. Thatâs not possible.
Had Dante changed his mind? Is he allowing me to leave? Or maybe he wants to talk before he decides what to do? Or maybe Frank is deadâ¦
Luca crouches beside me, tearing my hand from behind my back. âThe dressing needs changing, but itâll have to wait. Boss wants to talk to you. Iâll go get him. Make yourself presentable.â He turns to leave when a gun goes off in the distance. âShit.â He looks into the corridor, a gun in hand.
The acoustic warehouse fills with screams. More shots are fired, the noise ricocheting off the walls.
Luca grabs my arm and drags me in front of him like a human shield, one hand across my stomach. He presses the cool gun to my temple, pushing me out of the room. We turn left, and the subsequent shots seem to come from different directions as if weâre in the middle of the shootout.
âLuca!â Dante booms far behind us.
And instead of fear, I feel .
Something in the tone of his voice doesnât match the situation. He doesnât sound as if heâs calling him over. He sounds as if he wants to tear him apart.
I stop in my tracks, watching the pieces fall into place before my eyes. âDante didnât tell you to bring me here,â I mumble to myself, âThis place, my finger⦠it wasnât Danteâs orders! He doesnât know.â
Luca shoves at me, so Iâll move, but my legs are glued to the spot. âNo, he doesnât. Not yet, but heâll find out soon enough. Get moving. Itâs almost over.â
I spin to look at him, ignoring the gun pointed at my head. âYou work for Frank!â I yell, and Luca covers my mouth.
âLuca!â Dante booms again, closer this time.
âYes, I work for Frank, you dumb bitch. Now !â
I shove his hand away from my mouth. âThatâs why you watched over me,â I mutter. Swelling at the thought that Frank had gone to extreme lengths to keep me safe while I fulfilled the plan. âYou were supposed to keep me safe.â
âBlah, blah, blah,â Luca snaps. âI was supposed to make you more believable and help if you started screwing up. And fuck if I didnât. You got any idea how hard I worked to keep this plan from falling apart?â he scoffs, running his hand through his short hair. âAaron was first, then the brawl at Delta, then I killed that moron who hit you⦠all so Dante would trust me with you, so I could be at his house tonight to take you away instead of putting the fire out in Delta.â
âAaron was your idea?!â
Luca grits his teeth and grabs me in the middle, throwing me over his shoulder. âDanteâs got a savior complex.â He ignores my fists, ramming his back. âAaron was a trigger. Dante respected your wish. He left you alone, but that wasnât part of the plan.
. We had to improvise.â He stands me up, turning me toward the metal emergency door. âOpen it.â
âLuca!â Dante booms again, closing in on us.
âOpen it!â He taps the gun against my temple. âHe canât catch us inside.â
I pull on the handle. Itâs still dark outside. The area doesnât look familiar but brings to mind a closed factory. Old machinery with flat tires stands scattered around next to a few rusty containers.
âWhy not tell me you work for Frank? Why maim me? Why bring me here?â Iâm stalling, asking every question that springs to mind to keep Luca occupied, to make him slip, so that I can run or Dante can catch up to us. âWhy did you kidnap me from Danteâs house?â
âStop talking!â he snaps. âWhere the fuck does Dante get his patience from? Everything we did was to lure him here.â A sinister laugh escapes his lips. âStraight into the trap.â
We walk toward a white van parked by one of the containers. Lucaâs pace slows, and I swear in my head. This is where he wanted Dante all along; out in the open, where heâs ready for him. I look around, searching for silhouettes hiding in the shadows, but see no one. The emergency exit door flies open, hitting the wall with a bang. We turn around, face to face with Dante. His eyes are on me, scrutinizing my body, searching for cuts or bruises, his gun aimed at Luca, who hides behind me, his gun to my head.
âLet. Her.
.â Danteâs voice is stoic, cold, and terrifying.
âHeâll kill you,â I whisper to Luca.
âFrankie wonât let him.â
Nate runs outside through the open door, followed by Jackson, Spades, and the rest of Danteâs men. Everyone aims at Luca, who tenses behind me. Neither my father nor his pawns are within eyesight. Maybe theyâre all dead by now.
Dante waits a few seconds for Luca to obey the order, but when that doesnât happen, he looks at me, and his eyes dart to the ground. I catch it just in time. Trusting my instincts, I bend my knees, sliding down Lucaâs body while Dante pulls the trigger. The bullet wooshes above my head, hitting its target. Lucaâs lifeless body hits the ground with a thud.
Dante takes one step toward me, worry etched in his expression, but he stops at the sound of quiet, rhythmic clapping. Frank emerges from the side of the building along with Adam, Burly, and a whole army of men. Each one aims at a different member of Danteâs crew. Frank takes his time, approaching with a revolver pointed at the back of Danteâs head, a triumphant smile on his lips.
I stare into the green eyes of the man I love but have to learn to let go of within the next few minutes, or my heart will give out. Somewhere along the way, I forgot there would be no happily-ever-after. I fell in love, ignoring the consequences.
A single tear slips down my cheek.
Frank stops a few steps behind Dante, taking a second gun out of his pocket. âIâve been waiting too long for this moment, my friend.â Heâs not shouting, but the power of his voice makes him heard by everyone. He moves his eyes to me as he breathes a theatrical sigh of relief. âIâm so proud of you, baby girl.â
He throws the spare gun my way, and I catch it with trembling hands.
Danteâs face turns white.
His eyes stop shining.
And his heart stops beating for me.
âYes,â Frank says, smiling as if this is the best day of his life. âIâm taking away what you hold, dearest, Dante. Iâm taking away what you love most. Now you know what it feels like to be betrayed by the person you trust with your life.â He looks at me again, and his smile grows wider. âDo the honors. Itâs your prize for the time you spent with him.â
It never crossed my mind that Frank might want kill Dante. He calls it a prize, but he means punishment for my insubordination, for loving his enemy. The last test of loyalty. I canât fail now, not after all Iâve done, not when the finish line is so close. I have to do it, or else nothing will change. Tomorrow Iâll still be a stranger to my own father⦠I wonât get another chance to earn his love.
âWhy didnât you tell me about Luca?â I ask, stalling again.
âYouâre more believable when you donât know the details.â
Anger bubbles inside me like boiling water. âYou told him to cut off my finger!â
Dante shudders but remains silent, standing there with his gun pointed at the ground, his stance poised, eyes not veering off my face for one second.
âYou think Dante would come to your rescue if I locked you in a hotel with a bottle of champagne and a butler?â
âHeâd come for me everywhere.â
Iâm as sure of it as Iâm sure that either I kill him or Frank does. I squeeze the gun and raise it, tasting the salty tears on my lips. I aim at the man who trusted and loved me the way I always wanted to be lovedâunconditionally.
âI really do love you,â I whisper, looking into his eyes, my voice defeated. I donât want him to die thinking he never knew true love or that the time we shared was worthless.
I found peace where there should be fear, happiness where there should be disappointment, and love where nothing but death should await.
âI know, Star.â Not a hint of doubt on his face or in his voice. He knows me well enough to understand my reasons.
My hand is shaking, but I slide my finger to the trigger. âIâm sorry,â I mutter, my heart no longer beating as powerful sobs tear me apart.
âDo you need me to count down from five for you, Layla?â Frank growls, disdain in his voice like a low blow to my stomach. âWe donât have all fucking night. Get it over with.â
I let the air out of my lungs, blink the tears away and pull the trigger. The recoil throws my hand back. At the shooting range, guns were loaded with blanks and seemed weaker than the .44 that falls to the ground.
The bullet pierces his heart, but itâs not the precision that surprises me most.
Itâs relief.
I feel Silence falls upon the scene. Frankâs gray eyes remain open as his motionless, lifeless body lies on the gravel, blood seeping from the wound in his chest.
Dante stares at him for a few seconds before he spins around, his back to me. Frankâs men kneel before him in surrender, dropping their weapons, heads hanging low.
Adam dies first.
A bullet from Danteâs Beretta strikes Adamâs head, and he falls as if in slow motion. Allieâs face flashes before my eyes, and fear grips me by the throat.
The second bullet is for Burly.
I force my legs to move, painfully aware that one of those bullets is destined for me. I drop to my knees by Lucaâs body, frantically searching his pockets for the keys to the white van. My hands are covered in blood when I pull them out of his jacket. Adrenaline keeps me moving, my senses agile, though exhausted; my mind focused, though hesitant.
Panic is pushed back by survival instinct.
Gunshots tear through the otherwise silent night as I run toward the van, not daring to check how many people died. The engine springs to life seconds later. My foot hard on the pedal, I make a sharp turn, burning out of there, praying to get as far away as possible. I tremble like a leaf, ignoring blood and the piercing pain in my left.
Tears are absent.
I donât regret killing my father. Hearing the disdain in his voice helped me realize he was rotten to his core. There was no saving him, no gaining his love or acceptance. Nothing wouldâve changed if Iâd kill Dante. Frank would find a different thing to obsess over, a different reason to keep me at a distance.
He didnât deserve me, my love, or my allegiance.
I risk my life when I park the van outside Frankâs house. I need money, documents, and clothes to start over somewhere far away from the man I love.
âWhat are you doing?â Jess enters my bedroom while Iâm throwing things into two large travel bags. âWhat happened?â She points at the crimson bandage on my hand, her eyes wide.
âFrank is dead,â I say, rushing from the wardrobe to the bathroom and back, packing everything I can get my hands on. âDanteâs taking over Chicago. Iâm leaving.â I grip her by her frail shoulders. âYou shouldnât stay, Jess. Run as soon as you can.â
Her chin quivers, eyes pooling with tears. âHeâs dead? Frankieâs ?â She covers her mouth. âHow? What happened? Why are you running?!â
I zip the bags, shoving Jess aside to throw them down the stairs. âI have to go. I canât stay, Momâ¦â Words stick in my throat, so I simply hug her and leave.
I burst into Frankâs office. The only safe in the house I know the combination to is in his desk. I load a bag with as much cash as I can fit in there, then fill my coat pockets. I load the trunk of my BMW and start the engine, but Jess stops me, opening the driverâs side door.
âWhy are you running?!â she sobs, taking my hand. âWhere are you going?!â
âI donât know, but I need to leave.â I push her away, grabbing the door handle. âStay safe. Iâll call you soon.â
She nods, mascara-stained tears rolling down her cheeks. I donât look back when I drive through the gate and onto the road. I wonât miss this place. No happy memories exist in my mind of Frank or Jess. All the best moments of my life I spent in a different house, with a man who hates me more than he ever loved me.
I donât know where Iâm going or if Iâll ever be safe again. I only know that my life has changed forever.
TO BE CONTINUEDâ¦