28. 28 – Caterina
28 – Caterina
S ixty seconds.
That’s all I give myself. Give Sandro, before I stand.
My men have their backs to me. The Courtyard is almost empty now, and I play with the knife in my hand.
Amie.
Frankie.
And me.
Three bodies planned for. Three nooses.
“Gather as many as you can,” I say tightly. “Anyone who can provide cover fire, but they need good aim. We need to be able to fire as many bullets as possible, as quickly as possible, in a rolling wave without breaks.”
Dom gives me a questioning look. “We don’t have automatic weapons here.”
“Glock switches,” Stefan’s brows draw down. “Attach them to a handgun and it turns into a semi-automatic.”
I look at the nooses again. The names. “Get them. And as many Glocks as you can dig up. We need someone fast, too. Several of them. And strong, too.”
“Rocco,” Dante says immediately. Cat nods. “Who else?”
“Tony.” Vincent’s grief is clear, his voice guttural. “He’s coming.”
“Anyone else?” Luc asks, but I shake my head.
I can see his desperation, his guilt. It hovers inside my own chest, too. “Luc – the chances of us actually getting them out of there – it’s slim.”
Frankie and Amie might die today. They might even be dead already, but as I look back at those nooses, I doubt it.
Because the third noose is mine. I wonder if Matteo has realised yet that his little lapdog will not be delivering me as planned. That his grand finale will be missing the guest of honor.
I glance over at Dante, at Gio. Dante notices my stare first. “What does that look mean?”
I remember how steady he was as I ran for him the night of the battle. How the bullets missed my head by millimeters at most, his grip not wavering as he held off the men following me. How Gio took over, both of them perfect with their aim.
But this – a split second. Less, maybe.
To save a life. And to take one.