Chapter 35

“Donnie, think this through, man! There’s no way out of this if you hurt her!’ I shout, my voice rough with pain and desperation.

With every fiber of my being screaming in anger and fear, I watch Donnie drag Allie toward the exit; his gun pressed sickeningly against her temple.

Luca shouts back at his son, his voice booming across the room. ‘Don’t be a coward! Using a woman as a shield? Is that how I raised you?’

‘Let me go, and she’s free once I’m clear,’ Donnie bargains, his voice edgy, cornered. He’s desperate, and desperate men make dangerous moves.

I grit my teeth; the idea of Allie in his clutches outside where I can’t see her is unbearable. I push myself off the table, ignoring the searing pain shooting through my leg.

‘Donnie, let her go now! This isn’t the way to get what you want, and you know it!’

My mind races, calculating the distance, the risk. Donnie’s looking at Luca, but his hold on Allie doesn’t waver. He’s desperate, but he’s also making the biggest mistake of his life if he thinks I’m down for the count. I won’t let him leave with her. Not while I still draw breath.

Gritting my teeth against the searing pain, I push forward, blood soaking through my pant leg. Luca’s voice cuts through the tension, steady yet edged with a cold fury that commands attention.

‘Think about what you’re doing, son!’ he shouts, his eyes locked on Donnie’s. ‘This is not who you are!”

I can see that Donnie’s hand is shaking slightly, the gun still pressed to Allie’s head. He sneers, his voice raspy with desperation, ‘Let me walk out of here, and she walks, too. That’s the deal.’

Luca shakes his head; the disappointment etched deep in his weathered face. ‘You walk out by putting that gun down and releasing her. You’re better than this, son. We can settle this like men, not savages.’

I use their exchange to inch closer, my gaze darting between Donnie and the nearby table. There lies an unassuming weapon—a full wine bottle. It’s not much, but it’s enough. I lock eyes with Allie, giving her a slight nod toward the bottle. Her eyes flicker with understanding.

As Luca continues to engage Donnie, trying to peel back the layers of rage and fear that have consumed him, I move with calculated stealth.

‘You think you can take over with treachery? You think that shows strength?’ Luca’s voice grows louder, filled with pain and disappointment. Donnie continues to look between his father and Allie, his resolve weakening.

Donnie’s focus wavers, torn between his father’s words and the escape he’s plotting. It’s a slim chance, but it’s all we’ve got. Positioning myself just a few steps away from where Allie is being held, I prepare to make my move. The rush of adrenaline sharpens my focus—this is it, the moment to act.

In the tense standoff, my mind races for any distraction that could tip the balance in our favor. My voice booms across the room, echoing off the high ceilings, laden with a controlled urgency that I know will catch Donnie’s attention.

‘Donnie, listen to your father.’

Donnie’s head snaps back toward Luca, his eyes narrowing. The momentary lapse is all it takes. His grip on Allie slackens just enough, his attention on his father. In that split second, Allie seizes her chance.

She quickly grabs the bottle of wine, her movements agile as she swings backward, the wine bottle connecting solidly with Donnie’s head, a thud echoing in the brief silence. She darts away, her movements a blur of desperation and fear.

Donnie staggers, more stunned than injured, his gaze snapping to me as his grip tightens on the gun. He swings it in my direction, and every nerve in my body tenses, knowing what I have to do. The pain in my leg is a distant echo against the drum of survival pounding in my ears.

As he points the barrel toward me, I lunge forward, closing the distance as a shot rings out, its sound muffled by the plush carpet. The bullet burrows into the floor, a mere inch from my foot.

With a grunt, I crash into Donnie, my momentum fueled by raw fury. My hand wraps around his, struggling for control of the gun in a vicious tug-of-war, muscles straining, breaths ragged.

‘Donnie, enough!’ My voice is a guttural snarl driven by raw anger and adrenaline. We grapple fiercely, his desperation palpable as he clings to the gun with a wild energy. But the scuffle has thrown him off balance and his movements becoming erratic and pained.

As we struggle, Donnie manages to swing the gun, striking me hard across the cheek with the butt. Pain explodes across my face; stars burst behind my closed eyes. I stagger, but the pain sharpens my focus rather than diminishing it. I channel the anger and adrenaline, twisting sharply, leveraging my body weight against his failing grip.

With a final, determined yank, I wrench the gun from his hands. The victory is short-lived as my cheek throbs insistently, but there’s no time to dwell on it. I catch Donnie off guard with a swift punch, my fist connecting solidly with his jaw.

The impact sends a clear message—this is payback, for Allie, for everything.

Luca’s voice cuts through, sharp and commanding. ‘Move in!’ he orders, and his men spring into action. They’re swift and efficient, pulling us apart. Donnie is pinned down by two large men, his face a mask of shock and rage as he struggles against their iron grips.

As I’m pulled back, my breaths coming in harsh gasps, I watch as Luca approaches his son, his expression a complex tapestry of anger, relief, and a father’s deep-seated pain.

I stagger toward Allie, my leg screaming with each step, but relief floods me seeing her unharmed. ‘Are you okay?’ I manage to grunt despite the sharp pain.

‘Yeah, but you’re not,’ she responds quickly, her voice laced with concern as she catches sight of the blood soaking through my pants.

‘It’s nothing,’ I insist, trying to downplay the severity as she swiftly pulls off her apron to fashion a makeshift tourniquet around my thigh. The fabric tightens, staunching the flow, her hands steady.

‘Just hang on,’ she commands, securing the knot with a final tug.

I glance back at the remains of the gunfight in the room. Luca stands over his son, disappointment carved into every line of his face.

With a swift, resounding slap, he silences Donnie, pinning him with a look that could cut steel. ‘You disgrace the Amato name,’ Luca spits, his voice thick with contempt and sorrow. ‘Is this the son I raised?”

I nod to Allie, and she gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. Her voice is soft but firm. ‘Paramedics are on their way.’

Luca approaches me, his face etched with regret. ‘Patrick, I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know how to apologize for this madness,’ he starts, his voice heavy with disappointment.

I glance over at Donnie, who’s being hauled off by two of Luca’s men, along with the others who were shot. ‘What’s going to happen to him and the rest of them?’ I ask.

‘They’ll be dealt with within the family,’ Luca assures me, his tone firm. My son will face the consequences, severe ones. This I promise you.’ His gaze then drifts across the dining area’s wreckage, a grimace forming as he takes in the damage.

He exhales deeply, meeting my eyes again. ‘Patrick, your establishment … this shouldn’t have happened here. I know you’ll rebuild, and it’ll be better than ever. I’ll make sure of that. One of my people will contact you soon to discuss compensation for the damage.’

The distant wail of police sirens cuts through the air. Luca glances toward the sound, his expression tightening. ‘That’s my signal to leave,’ he says with a resigned nod.

I respond with a nod of my own, wanting him to leave.

He pauses at the threshold, turning back with a faint smile.

‘Try to enjoy the rebuild, Patrick,’ he advises, his voice tinged with a bitter irony. ‘Ambitious men like us seldom get a moment’s peace.’

As he steps away, he adds over his shoulder, ‘And congratulations on the twins.’

The door closes behind him, and I turn to Allie, seeing the same confusion mirrored in her eyes.

‘How the hell does he know about that?’ she asks.

I grimace as the reality of the ruined restaurant sinks in. The dream I built from scratch now looks like a scene straight out of a crime thriller—bullet holes pock the walls, broken furniture is strewn about, and stains darken the once pristine floor. The sight tightens something in my chest.

‘Is everyone okay?’ I call out to the waitstaff. They confirm they’re unharmed, rising from their hiding places. Despite the devastation, that’s something to be grateful for.

A sharp spasm of pain jolts through my leg. Allie’s by my side in an instant, her hands gentle but insistent as she tries to ease me into a chair.

‘Patrick, you need to sit down,’ she urges.

I nod, allowing her to guide me, but my gaze remains fixed on the devastation around us. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to come back from this,’ I admit.

Allie squeezes my hand. ‘We will,’ she says firmly. ‘We’ve got each other, and that’s what matters right now.’

Her confidence bolsters me, and I draw a deep breath, trying to see past the destruction.

The sound of sirens grows louder, and relief washes over me—Allie’s safe, her face lined with worry, but she is unharmed.

Adrenaline drains from my body, and exhaustion grips me. I feel myself slipping toward unconsciousness. I fight to stay alert with thoughts of Caleb, Allie, and our unborn twins swirling in my mind.

They’re my anchor, my reason to keep fighting.

As darkness edges in, I hold onto the promise of the future I need to protect. I’m not going down—not without a fight.