Page 38 of Wicked Bloodlines

Vincent lunged at me, teeth bared, eyes crazed with hate. He got halfway before a Rossi guard knocked him back, shoving Vincent back so hard he crashed into an antique table. Vincent howled, tried to claw his way free, but another guard held him firm.

Anthony’s men went for me, twisting my arm behind my back, wrenching upward until sparks danced in my vision. The second jammed a pistol hard against my skull, the barrel cold against my skin. He shoved me to my knees. Anthony stood a few yards off, hands folded, not even a flicker of surprise. If anything, his mouth twitched at the corner. Approval, almost.

The pain in my arm, shoulder and knees throbbed, but I shoved it aside. The only question that mattered was time. Had I bought them enough? Was Maria safe? Were they all safe back inside Villa Luca? The locket burned against my chest. I knew Matteo would find me but would he find me before Anthony’s men killed me? My pulse pounded in my ears.

At the far end of the hall, wood exploded inward. Glass rained down in shards that skittered across marble. The wind and rain howled in, drowning out Cesare’s ragged screams. Then the great hall doors exploded inward as well… And there came Matteo.

He filled the entryway. His suit was half-ripped, hair soaked, blood streaked his face and white shirt. Every head in the hall swung toward him, and for a heartbeat, everything froze.

“Make your peace, gentlemen.” That was the only warning he gave.

Chapter Fourteen

Matteo

When the guy holding the gun to Sofia’s head swung his weapon my way, I made my move. My first shot erupted through the right eye of the barrel-chested fucker. He went down hard, what was left of his skull cracking the floor. The second man took a round through his throat. He went down clutching his ruined neck, spraying the wall with arterial blood in a high red arc. Sofia dropped free, folding to her knees.

The rest of the hall detonated. Gunfire hurtled back at me from the Rossi side, wild at first, then stitching the air with sharp, deliberate bursts as the men realized their world was ending.

I kept moving, needing to get to Sofia. The candles flickered, throwing shadows everywhere. I hit the deck, rolling behind the half-collapsed sideboard as a volley chewed into the wood where my ribs had just been. Two more shots took out a Marchesi runner flanking the entryway. He spun, dropped his weapon, and collapsed.

Beyond the hallway, the old house pulsed with hard, ugly violence. Vittorio swept in from the opposite side of the room, cutting down three more men as he did. Upstairs, the echo of muffled shots told me Gabriel’s men were clearing out the rooms above.

I moved again as two Rossi men popped up behind Cesare’s desk, firing wild in my general direction. I heard Sofia scream and rose from my cover with a brutal yell. I took out one of the Rossi men with a double shot to the chest. Vittorio got the other guy when he hesitated, not sure if me or Vittorio was the bigger threat. My brother’s shot got the man in the jaw and blood sprayed over the wall behind him.

Sofia was up by then, crouched low, using the body of the first guard as a shield while she searched the room with those wild amber eyes. She snatched up a pistol from the hand of the dying man beside her.

Every muscle in my body wanted to cross the hellish gap and drag her to safety, but I needed to clear the room first, to keep any fire focused on me and away from her.

Vincent Rossi, bleeding from the shoulder and abandoned by his own men, tried to haul himself upright using the edge of the antique table. He didn’t get far. A single crack—distinct from the rest of the crossfire—sounded from the Rossi side, and Vincent’s head snapped back. He dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. I turned to see Gabriel give me a nod before moving on to secure the rest of the room. I could always count on my brother to have my back.

Anthony was gone before the body hit the floor. I caught a glimpse of him in the flickering candlelight and the sharp flash of lightning. He hurried through the wreckage and out into the storm. I heard Gabriel give the order for his men to follow and had no doubt he’d see Anthony captured.

The room emptied out. The gunfire tapered off. The only sounds were Cesare’s raging as he still clutched his ruined face, blood pouring between his fingers. Sofia was already getting to her feet, her face set, blood splattered across her cheek. I moved to cover her, sweeping the hall with my weapon, but there was nobody left standing who wasn’t with my men.

But Cesare wasn’t done. He roared to his feet, a pistol in his hand, the movement so fast I missed him before he was already in motion. He snatched Sofia by the arm and used her like a shield, pressing the gun barrel hard under her jaw.

Her father’s face was a horror show, the ugly, bleeding gash combined with the maniacal expression on his face as his world crumbled around him. He bared his teeth, eyes wild, lower lip split to the bone. For a second, he looked at me like he was going to kill her just to spite me. But he didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he backed toward the small service entrance, dragging Sofia with him.

“Nessuno si muova!” he screamed. “No one fucking moves or she dies! You hear me, Luca? You want her? Tell your men to stand the fuck down or she dies. You all die! Morirete tutti!” He switched languages, Italian and English mixing together, every word a threat. “She’s my blood. You don’t get to take her from me. I’ll blow her brains out before I let you win. You want her alive, you back off!”

He tried to use her as a shield, but I could see the way Sofia shifted her weight. She was about to take matters into her own hands. My gut clenched as I met her gaze.

“I love you, Matteo,” she said softly. And then she made her move.

Sofia’s body went slack. Cesare wasn’t ready for her weight and he had to adjust his grip on her. That’s all she needed. She slammed her heel down on his instep, hard enough that he howled and nearly lost his grip on the gun. Even bleeding and frantic, Cesare was dangerous. He swung the pistol down, cracking her across the temple and she crumbled.

I saw red.

Cesare tried to keep her up, but Sofia’s body went limp in his grip. He staggered, not expecting dead weight, shifting the gun away from her to better keep her close to him for the protection her body offered, and I had my opening.

I crossed the short distance with a roar. Cesare’s eyes went wide with shock as he saw death in my eyes. I hit him hard in the mid section with my shoulder, driving him backward and away from Sofia. He fought, swinging with the pistol, but I caught his wrist, twisted, and wrenched the gun away. An ugly crack sounded as his wrist snapped. I snatched the gun from him and immediately turned it on Cesare. He cried out, cringing and ducking away from me with his hands raised as he sank to his knees. A coward to the end.

The room went dead still. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Cesare knelt there, gasping, a mass of rage and ruin, looking very much diminished.

With a sob, Sofia scrambled to her feet and threw herself into my arms. Thankfully, Dario moved in beside me to cover Cesare because I had to have Sofia in my arms. Had to!

She cried against my chest and I held her to me much too tightly for the ordeal she’d just survived, but I couldn’t help it. “When we get home, you’re definitely getting that spanking.”