Chapter 36
Gianni
I had chosen the place with care.
The road cut through the hills like an old scar, far from city lights, far from witnesses, far from anything that could interrupt what I had planned.
Just open darkness, low trees, and the quiet, steady hum of engines sliding through the night.
Archie’s convoy came into view right on time, a line of moving shadows headed back toward Monte Amiata, smug and unaware.
I watched from the ridge, my men spread out behind him, silent and ready. Through our night-vision lenses, the world below glowed in sharp greens and silvered outlines. Archie’s vehicles rolled forward, confident and blind.
“Now,” I said.
The explosion ripped through the night.
The lead car disappeared in a bloom of fire and twisted metal, lifted clean off the road and flung sideways before crashing back down in a burning wreck. For a split second the hills lit up, trees standing out like black skeletons against the flash, and then the darkness slammed back into place.
Chaos followed.
Brakes screamed as cars collided. Men shouted. Doors flew open as Archie’s men poured out, firing blindly into the black, their bullets carving useless lines through the night.
My men did not waste shots.
Through our goggles, every target was bright and clear. One body dropped, then another, then another, each hit clean and precise. There was no panic on my side. Only method to our madness as we picked off Archie’s men, one by one.
I started down the slope, with only one destination in mind. This had been a long time coming. Too fucking bloody long.
Gravel and broken glass crunched under my boots as I descended. Archie had made it out of his car, his face twisted with fury and disbelief as he shouted orders to men who were already dead, or dying.
I stepped into the open.
Close enough for Archie to see me.
For a heartbeat, the world held still.
Then I raised my gun and fired.
The first shot took Archie’s knee. The second shattered the other. Archie went down hard, a raw, broken sound tearing out of him as blood spilled across the gravel path.
I walked toward him, slow and unhurried.
“I heard you were planning a wedding,” I said lazily. “Guess you won’t be walking down the aisle, after all.”
Archie dragged himself back with his hands, teeth bared, leaving streaks of red behind him. “You bastard,” he snarled. “You think this changes anything?”
“It changes everything,” I said.
I crouched in front of him, close enough to see the fury shaking in his eyes, to hear the wet rasp of his breathing.
“You paid for Provence,” I went on. “You transferred the money. You signed the papers. You made it all very official.”
Archie laughed, wild and broken. “Now it’s mine.”
I smiled.
“No,” I said softly. “It was mine the moment you signed those papers.”
The laughter died on Archie’s lips.
“The seller already has his money-that ridiculous price you paid,” I continued. “The documents you signed were destroyed before you even left the site. New ones were already waiting. With my name on them.”
Archie stared at me, horror bleeding into rage. “You lying—”
“I am not,” I said calmly. “So thank you. Provence will serve me very well.”
Archie’s hands shook as he tried to push himself up on legs that would not answer him. Something ugly twisted across his face.
“You think she’ll thank you for this?” he spat. “She hates you. She will never belong to you again.”
My gaze went cold. “She will never belong to you, either.”
I stood as my men closed in, shadows and weapons sealing the space around us.
“This is where you end,” I said. “And I begin. Everything you thought you owned is mine now. And everything you took from her, I am taking back.”
Archie’s scream tore through the dark, full of rage and ruin, the sound of a beautiful villain finally realizing the game was over.
He lay sprawled on the road in a widening pool of blood, dark and slick beneath him, his chest rising and falling in short, jagged pulls.
Each breath came out wet, as if his lungs were filling faster than he could empty them, a harsh, rattling sound scraping out of his throat.
Sweat rolled down his temples and into his eyes, but he was too weak to blink it away, too busy fighting for every inch of air.
His gaze started to lose its sharpness, the fire in it dulling as it glazed over, fear and disbelief swimming just beneath the surface.
He was still trying to hold on, still trying to stay in control, even as his body betrayed him, slipping farther away with every shallow, desperate breath.
The night had gone quiet again, the way it always did after chaos ended. Smoke drifted from the wreckage. Somewhere, metal ticked as it cooled.
I stood a few steps away and watched him die.
Men like Archie always believed there was one more move left, one more lie, one more trick that could save them. I wanted him to understand, down in the place where panic lived, that there were none.
“You know,” Archie rasped, his voice already fraying at the edges, “I was going to give her everything.”
My jaw tightened.
He tried to laugh again and failed. His chest shuddered, breath hitching. His eyes flicked past me, toward the wreckage of what he used to command.
I stepped closer, close enough that Archie had to tilt his head to look up at me. I was close enough to witness his fear finally breaking through his own damn arrogance.
Archie swallowed. His hand twitched uselessly against the road. “You think killing me makes you better than me?”
“No,” I said. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
For a moment, something almost human crossed Archie’s face. It wasn’t remorse or regret. Possibly just the sudden understanding that he had finally run out of time.
I raised my gun.
“This,” I said softly, “is the only mercy you will get.”