Page 123 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
I was trying to protect him from his father’s legacy, that part was true. But I was also trying to profit from it. Trying to use the secrets for my own gain, and look where that got me. Look where it got everyone.
I can see them now, through the smoke and chaos. Isabella’s men are advancing on a position near the side chapel, closing in while Dante and Scarlett are focused on Isabella herself, unaware.
If those soldiers get into position, they’ll have a clear shot at Dante’s and Scarlett’s backs. And then find the little boy wherever they’ve hidden him.
My arms and legs are useless. I can barely see straight, and every breath I take feels like swallowing broken glass.
But there’s a gun on the floor, from one of the fallen soldiers. If I can reach it…
I start to move and the pain nearly blacks me out. My broken arm screams in protest, and my shattered knee refuses to cooperate. But I manage to get off the alter and keep dragging myself across the blood-stained stone inch by inch, leaving a trail of red behind me.
The gun is close now. Two feet. One foot. My fingers finally close around the grip and I almost pass out with relief.
I can’t stand and barely lift my head. But I can aim. Years of training don’t disappear just because you’re dying.
The two soldiers closing in on Dante’s position come into view. They’re focused on their target, not watching their backs. Why would they? They think they’re winning.
I line up my shot. My hand is shaking, my vision blurring, but I’ve made harder shots than this. Back when I was still the Almighty Viktor Russo.
I squeeze the trigger.
The first soldier drops, the round catching him in the back of the head. The second man spins toward me, surprised, and I put two rounds in his chest before he can get his weapon up.
They both go down and Dante’s back is free.
But the gunfire has drawn attention. Isabella’s men are turning toward me now, realizing I’m still a threat. I see their weapons coming up, see the muzzles pointing at my broken body.
I think about Elena, Marco’s wife. The woman I’ve known for years, who always made sure there was a plate for me at familydinners. Who treated me like a brother even though I didn’t deserve it.
I think about Dante. The man I served for fifteen years. The best friend I betrayed for money and power. The brother I never admitted I had.
I think about Luca. That little boy with his father’s eyes and his mother’s courage. The child I terrorized. The child I almost got killed.
I hope Dante gets him out of here. I hope they all get out. I hope the ledger burns and the truth comes out and somewhere, somehow, something good comes from all this death.
Then the bullets are hitting me and it’s almost a relief. I fall backward, my body jerking with each impact, and the last thing I see is Dante turning toward me. Our eyes meet across the cathedral, and I hope he understands.
I hope he knows this was my choice. My redemption. The only good thing I’ve done in years.
I chose his son over my mission. In the end, that has to count for something.
The world goes dark.
35
SCARLETT
Marco is dead.
The words keep repeating in my head, but they don’t feel real. None of this feels real. I’m still kneeling on the cold stone floor, his blood soaking into my jeans, his hand growing cold in mine.
He’s gone. Just like that.
Luca is clinging to my neck, sobbing, his small body shaking against mine. I should comfort him. Should tell him everything is okay. But I can’t make my mouth form the words because nothing is okay. Nothing will ever be okay again.
Around us, the gunfire continues. People are still dying, and Dante is still fighting.
And I’m hiding down here like a coward while the man I love fights for all of our lives.
