Page 39 of Wicked Bloodlines

We stood there for a long time. My heart hammered and my ears roared, sounding remarkably like the sounds of the raging storm outside. The rain hammered against the broken entryway, and the frantic flutter of candles as the wind tore through the open spaces created the perfect, spooky atmosphere for the killing we’d just done. My men stood ready, weapons trained, waiting on mine or my brothers’ orders.

Cesare Marchesi, the bastard, tried to haul himself upright from where he knelt, a twisted ruin of a man, his broken wrist dangling at an unnatural angle. His face, split open by Sofia’s blade, was a horror show of blood and bone. Dario’s gun, cold and steady, remained aimed squarely at him, a silent promise of more pain if he pushed it. But Cesare was past caring about pain. His eyes, though manic and bloodshot, fixed on Sofia. His daughter. The architect of his downfall.

“You’re Marchesi blood. It binds us, figlia mia. A Marchesi does not spill Marchesi blood.” He coughed before spitting flecks of crimson onto the mosaic floor. “Look at me. Look at what you’ve done. My own flesh and blood. Do you not feel it?” He looked like a caricature of a silent movie villain. He held out his good hand, palm up, a grotesque parody of an offer. “There is still a way, Sofia. You gave them the drive, yes. But I have accounts. Names. Networks that run deeper than anything the Lucas can touch. Old family favors. I know things. Things that will make the Luca family useful to us. We can still recover. Together.” His voice grew stronger, as if by speaking the words, they’d be true. His confidence bolstered, and he straightened as much as he could. “Give me back my daughter. I’m taking her home so I can rebuild my empire.”

Sofia pushed away from me. I rejected the move and tightened my grip. The look she gave me melted my heart. This woman was my everything. My heart. My soul. My very reason for being. Peaces inside me I’d thought broken and unfixable slid into place with a resounding and life altering click.

We stared at each other for several long moments. Then she smiled up at me, tears forming in her eyes, and went up on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on my chin. I wanted to capture her lips but knew I’d never be able to stop myself once I started. It still didn’t want to let her out of my arms, but this time when she pushed against my chest gently, I let her go.

She turned her full attention on Cesare. “You still think you have something to bargain with?” Sofia asked, her voice low, strained. Her own blood streaked across her face, mirroring the ruined mask of his. She looked like a Valkyrie, brutal and beautiful. Not the meek, compliant mouse Cesare thought he’d sent to me.

Cesare’s face twisted further, the mask of fake warmth dropping away to reveal the predator beneath. He knew she saw through him. He snarled, a low, animalistic sound. “You think a prison will hold me, Sofia?” His voice was suddenly clear, laced with venom. “You think a cage will keep my hands from reaching Maria? Or you?” Each word grew in volume and strength as he spoke, obviously thinking to cow Sofia as he’d thought he’d always done. “Your pretty little sister. She will suffer. Belle. That simple-minded girl who thinks she belongs among these wolves? She will pay for your disobedience. And those broken creatures you dragged from my hospitality? I will find them all. Every single one. I have men hands in this world, Sofia. You think you’ve cut me down? I will rain hell down on Villa Luca, on this entire city, from whatever cell they put me in. Every last one of them will die! You! Them! All of them! Morirete tutti!” He continued, screaming now. “She is my blood. You do not get to take her from me, Luca!” He turned back to Sofia. “You want them to live, Sofia? Tell your Luca dogs to stand the fuck down!”

The words clawed at me, each one a fresh torrent of rage. He was right. A cage wouldn’t hold him. He’d find a way to make good on his threats, to hurt Sofia, to destroy everything she valued, even from behind bars. His madness, his sheer, unadulterated malevolence, knew no limits. It was always about control for men like Cesare, and he had nothing left to lose. He would torch the world just to spite her. Good thing I didn’t plan on letting him live.

I tightened my grip on the Glock in my hand. This wasn’t just about the Rossi conflict anymore. This was about Sofia. Her freedom. Her life. I was her weapon now. Her choice. Not some damn arranged alliance. Not some twisted family obligation. Only Sofia.

I met her eyes. The pain, the fury, the resignation, it all flickered in her face. She saw the evil in Cesare, too. A man like Cesare, a monster of pure spite, could never truly be disarmed. That a cage would only fuel his fire. That some monsters deserved to be put down. The flicker of her eyes said she knew what she had to do.

Her chin lifted, never looking away from Cesare when she spoke. “End it, Matteo. End him.”

I raised the Glock. His eyes widened with a sudden, dawning terror. The man truly believed Sofia would save him. I didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. Cesare opened his mouth, likely for one last, desperate plea or threat he didn’t have time to voice.

The single shot was a sharp report in the storm-swept hall, swallowed almost immediately by the wind, rain, and booming thunder. The bullet ripped through his skull, silencing the last Marchesi don forever. His head snapped back, spraying the wall behind him with a sudden, dark bloom of blood and brain. Then he crumpled, face down, his broken body landing with a wet thud on the ancestral crest embedded in the marble floor.

The storm howled through the shattered windows, letting the rain blow inside the decaying hall. Candlelight flickered, throwing long, dancing shadows that stretched and crawled over the ancestral portraits lining the walls. Oil-painted faces, cold and unblinking, looked down on the end of a line, on the last, ugly death of their name. The scent of gunpowder mixed with ozone from the raging storm adding to the cloying perfume of death. The great hall, a tomb finally at peace.

I lowered my weapon, my gaze still fixed on Sofia. She choked on a sob and would have dropped to the floor but I grabbed her before she did, gathering her in my arms as I crushed her to my chest.

She trembled and soaked my shirt with her tears. “It’s over,” she whispered. She said it again, softer, like she didn’t trust it. “It’s really over.”

I rocked her against me, pressing my lips to her hair, her forehead, not even fucking caring who saw. “He can’t hurt you anymore, baby. He’s gone. He can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

We stood there, clinging to each other. The only sound, the incessant drumming of rain against the shattered windows and marble flooring, the groan of the wind through the open doors, and the faint crackle of burning wood from the fireplace on the opposite wall. Cesare lay there, a broken puppet, blood already darkening the marble around him.

A sudden, sharp burst of static from my radio broke the spell. The real world, ugly and persistent, slammed back into place. Dario gave a sharp nod to his men, and the ordered chaos of cleanup began. Gabriel appeared in the doorway, his face grim, his usually unruly hair plastered against his head by the rain. His clothes were soaked, plastered to his frame, and there was a fresh cut over his right eyebrow. He’d clearly been fighting.

He looked at Cesare’s body, then at Sofia, his jaw tight. “Anthony Rossi’s gone,” he clipped out, his voice rough. “His men covered him. He made it to the family’s private dock and the boat was gone before we got there.” Gabriel clenched his fists, his jaw working. If there was one thing my brother hated, it was missing a target. Anthony was smarter than his brother. He ran fast, and had always been good at disappearing.

We still had to find Anthony. There was no way we could let him go. But we had to straighten out the immediate power void left by the night’s carnage. I knew Dario had no interest in picking up Marchesi’s businesses. In fact, we would likely destroy most of them. But there were a few things that genuinely needed a heavy control. Anthony might be a snake, but he’d definitely be back and would want his family’s businesses. With the agreement all the families had to stay out of each other’s businesses, I knew he’d eventually regain control. If another member of the family didn’t take matters into their own hands.

Alessandro, strode into the hall. “The villa is secure,” he confirmed, his voice calm. “Cesare was bluffing. He had no men left to send. Belle is asleep in her suite. Maria is still in the guest wing, two doors down from yours, Sofia. Dario’s stationed two more men outside her door, a doctor’s still with her. Both women are sleeping soundly.” He gave Sofia a small, reassuring nod. “I’ve still got men combing the entire Villa to make sure.” His gaze returned to Sofia. “Just to cover all the bases, I had men search and question Fillipa.”

Sofia gasped. “She didn’t hurt anyone, Alessandro. She gave me the phone on my father’s orders, but she didn’t have a choice.”

“Relax, little sister.” Alessandro gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ve known about Fillipa from the beginning. She was never a threat to you or anyone, but we had to be sure. For Belle and Maria. And for you.”

The tension bled from Sofia’s shoulders. She reached into her boot, pulling out the phone. It was small, discreet. Still recording. She held it out to Alessandro. “Here,” she said, her voice hoarse, but steady even if her hand wasn’t. “I don’t think it makes a difference now. You have everything. I only came because Cesare threatened everyone and I couldn’t sit by and do nothing.”

Dario took the phone from her. He ran a hand over his salt-and-pepper beard, a slow, deliberate gesture. “The old families,” he said, his voice low, a soft rumble that carried absolute authority. “They respect loyalty.” He shook his head. “They will not respect this. Anthony Rossi will be a beggar, begging enemies, by the new year.” He glanced at me. “We’ve made a bitter enemy tonight.”

“He orchestrated all this,” I said. “Cesare dying so he could insert himself as head of the family was exactly what Anthony wanted. Anthony might not have started this game, but he Goddamned well ended it.”

Sofia looked up at me. “He wanted me to take my father’s place at the head of the Marchesi family.” She swallowed, sniffling as she did. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she spoke. “He said I could marry him, and we’d control the underground instead of the Luca family.”

Dario met Sofia’s gaze. “None of this is on you, Sofia. Not one single thing.”

She lowered her gaze and tried to push away from me but I wouldn’t let her. “Seems like all I’m good for is to be sold. Anthony wanted my family’s power, no matter how diminished. You guys took me as payment to ally with my father. Seems I’m just so much… extra baggage.”