Page 146 of The Mafia King's Reign
The door explodes inward.
Salvatore.
He moves like violence incarnate, gun raised, eyes scanning, finding the threat in half a heartbeat. His men pour in behind him, a tide of black suits and cold efficiency, but he’s already moving.
Two shots. Clean. Precise. Both men drop.
Then his eyes find me.
For one split second, I see something I’ve never seen in Salvatore Vitale’s face: terror.
“Valentina.”
My name tears out of him, raw and broken, and then he’s crossing the room in three strides, dropping to his knees beside me.
“Oh my God,” I exhale.
He looks at me and terror flashes across his face. Then something worse. Rage, raw and primal.
He storms across the room, stands over the first man’s body, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to breathe through something that won’t let him.
For a second, I think it’s over.
Then… BANG.
The shot cracks through the room, sharp and deafening.
The man doesn’t move. He can’t.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Salvatore keeps firing.
Each pull of the trigger is precise, controlled, but there’s nothing controlled about him. Not now. The recoil snaps through his arm again and again, the sound echoing off the concrete walls, filling every corner of the space until it feels like there’s no air left to breathe.
The body jerks with each impact, lifeless, unrecognizable.
He doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He just keeps pulling the trigger like the man beneath him can still feel it.
Like he needs him to.
Like it’s not enough.
Click.
The sound of an empty chamber cuts through the ringing in my ears.
Salvatore doesn’t lower the gun. He just stands there, finger still on the trigger, the barrel pointed at what used to be a man.
His chest heaves. His hand doesn’t shake.
