Page 119 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
The fighting is brutal beyond anything I’ve witnessed today, beyond anything I could have imagined in my worst nightmares. Blood covering the floors in rivers now, pooling around fallen bodies, splashing under boots as men fight and die. Bodies piling up faster than I can count. The smell of cordite and death and blood so thick it makes me want to gag.
I spot Dante across the cathedral, fighting with his knife with no gun in sight. He’s moving through Isabella’s soldiers with deadly speed and strength. But there are too many of them. For every one he kills, two more take their place.
Isabella watches from behind her wall of guards, that cold smile never leaving her face. She’s clearly enjoying this. Watching us die one by one while she waits to claim her prize.
I’ve never hated anyone the way I hate her right now.
Luca is sobbing against my shoulder, his tears soaking through my shirt. I want to comfort him and tell him everything will be okay, but I can’t lie to him. Because even I am not sure if things will be okay.
“I love you,” I whisper instead. “No matter what happens, I love you so much.”
“Mama, I’m scared.”
“I know, baby. Me too.”
I grab my gun and hold it ready, knowing I might have to fight. Knowing I might have to kill to protect my son.
Marco slides behind our pillar, blood running down his face from a fresh wound. He’s breathing hard, his eyes scanning the chaos for any path to safety.
“We need to move,” he says. “Isabella’s men are closing in on us.”
“Move where?”
“The catacombs. There’s a passage that leads outside. If we can get you and Luca out?—”
He stops mid-sentence, his eyes going wide.
I follow his gaze and see what he sees. A grenade, flying through the air toward us, spinning end to end in a scary slow motion.
My body freezes, my brain losing its ability to think at that moment. But Marco moves without hesitation, putting his body between the grenade and us. I see him wrap himself around it, curling into a ball on the stone floor, shielding us with everything he has.
“Marco, no!”
But it happens before the words can completely leave my throat. The explosion is deafening.
The force of it slams me backward into the pillar, Luca clutched against my chest. My ears are ringing, a high-pitched roar thatdrowns out everything else. I can’t hear the gunfire anymore, or the screaming. Just that terrible ringing.
And when I open my eyes, what’s left of Marco is lying on the floor in front of me.
“No.” The word comes out as a whisper. Then louder, tearing from my throat. “No, no, no, no.”
I crawl to him, dragging Luca with me, my hands shaking so badly I can barely move. He’s still alive somehow, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged gasps. But the damage is horrible. His midsection is destroyed, torn apart by the blast. Blood is pooling beneath him faster than a rushing stream.
There’s nothing I can do. No tourniquet, no pressure, no medical intervention that can fix this. He absorbed a grenade with his body. He’s dying, and I can’t save him.
“Marco.” I grab his hand, squeezing hard, my tears falling onto his bloodied chest. “Marco, stay with me. Please stay with me.”
His eyes find mine. They’re full with pain but still open. Still the eyes of the man who’s protected us through all of this, who stood between my son and death without a moment’s hesitation.
“Elena,” he gasps, blood bubbling at his lips. “Tell her…tell her I love her. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“You can tell her yourself. You’re going to be fine, you’re going to?—”
“Don’t.” A dry, choking cough erupts from him. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”
The tears are streaming down my face now, in unstoppable torrents. “Okay. Okay, I won’t lie.”
“Take care of her. And the kids. Promise me, Scarlett. Promise me you and Dante will take care of my family when I’m gone.”
