Page 99 of Bound in Vengeance
I drive the blade home, ending the Gallo civil war right there against the concrete.
Across the room, the remaining Kuznetsov men try to retreat into the shadows, but Valerio and our men close the exits. Within seconds, the final echoes of gunfire die down, leaving nothing but the heavy silence of the dead.
I don't give the carnage a second glance.
I drop the blade and move to Sienna immediately. My knees hit the dusty concrete right beside her. My hands, still slick with Luca's blood, are steady as I pull a knife and slice through the thick zip-ties cutting into her wrists.
"Sienna," I breathe, the name a jagged exhale.
I cup her face, my thumbs gently brushing past the dirt and the dark bruise swelling along her jawline. I check her over with frantic, sweeping movements—scanning for deep wounds, making sure she is whole, making sure she is still breathing.
Her frame shakes against the cold floor, her eyes wide and wet, but she is alive. The terror in her gaze melts the moment she looks at me, and she collapses forward. I pull her tightly into my arms, burying my face in her hair, and hold her so close that the ragged beat of her heart thumps against my own chest.
"I've got you," I murmur, my voice raw. "You're safe."
Over her shoulder, I look up at Valerio, who stands in the center of the warehouse wiping a splash of crimson from his cheek.He meets my gaze and nods once, understanding the unspoken command before I even speak it.
"Handle the bodies," I tell him, my voice returning to that icy, absolute authority. "Clean up the remaining men. Burn it all to the ground."
"Consider it done," Valerio replies, turning to direct our men.
I don't look back at Luca's corpse. I don't look at Pietro. The Gallo war, the empire, the betrayal—it all fades into irrelevance. Slipping one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, I lift Sienna into my arms. She clings to my neck, hiding her face in my shoulder as I carry her out of the warehouse, leaving the bloodbath and the ghosts of my past behind us in the dark.
CHAPTER THIRTY
SIENNA
The moment the car pulls up to the estate, I realize Alessandro has no intention of letting my feet touch the ground. He lifts me out of the seat before I can even protest, his arms locking around me like iron bands.
"Alessandro, seriously, I can walk," I say, a breathless laugh bubbling up in my throat despite the aching bruises. "I am fine. I promise."
He doesn't answer. His jaw is a rigid line of granite as he carries me through the front doors and straight up the grand staircase.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter, rolling my eyes against his shoulder. It was just a few days ago we were playing out this exact same scenario in the hospital.
He carries me into our bedroom and lays me down on the mattress with agonizing gentleness, as if I might shatter if he moves too fast. Before I can even sit up, the door opens to admit a medical team into the room.
“When did you even get this ready?” I ask, unable to hold back a laugh.
He doesn’t respond to me, his entire attention is on the team.
“Check every single inch of her,” he barks. “Make sure she’s completely okay. Please.”
At least, he’s sayingpleasethis time.
I sigh, leaning back against the pillows, but beneath the exhaustion, a profound wave of relief washes over me. It is a physical weight lifting off my chest.
Luca is done. Pietro is gone. The shadow that has been looming over my entire existence has completely vanished. I am safe. I can actually walk outside, breathe fresh air, and have breakfast with my sisters in public without looking over my shoulder. And looking up at the fierce, protective storm in my husband's eyes, I know down to my bones how deeply he cares for me.
I stay completely still, letting the doctors do their work, my eyes never leaving Alessandro.
After about ten minutes, the lead doctor finally steps back, offering Alessandro a reassuring nod.
“She’s completely fine,” he says. “No internal damage—just a collection of nasty bruises.”
They clean the scrapes, wrap bandages around the worst of them, and hand over a fresh prescription of painkillers with the strict instruction that I need to rest.
As they pack up their bags and start to leave, I look past them to the dried blood staining my husband's clothes. "Check Alessandro too," I tell them.
