Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Sophia
T he room is large, cold, and eerily silent. I stand at the foot of the table, Alessio beside me, watching the five family heads with a quiet, burning intensity. My heart beats faster with every second that passes—the weight of the moment pressing on me. We have one shot to end this, one shot to make them see who Domenico really is.
I watch the men in the room, their eyes scanning the evidence we've presented. The photos, the documents, the testimonies—all of it laid out for them. Domenico's dirty secrets, his criminal empire built on lies and blood.
"This is ridiculous," the head of the French family mutters, his fingers running through his graying hair as he scans the documents. "This is—this is not what we agreed upon."
I feel Alessio tense beside me, his jaw clenching. He's trying to keep his cool, but I know the anger is simmering just beneath the surface.
"You're telling me," I snap, stepping forward. "That this isn't a problem? That trafficking children is something we can just ignore ?"
The room falls still.
Domenico leans back in his chair, a smug look on his face. "This is an attack on me, nothing more. A smear campaign to weaken my position."
"Smear campaign?" I exclaim. "I have proof, and you still think this is some game? You have children locked up, sold to the highest bidder, and you call it a smear campaign?"
"Enough," the head of the Italian family says, cutting through the tension. He glances around the room, his face hard. "I didn't come here to be lectured by a girl. We're talking business."
I feel my blood boil. "Business?" I spit out. "This isn't business. This is exploitation, abuse. And you're willing to let him get away with it?"
One of the men from the Russian family looks at me, his expression unreadable. "She has a point," he says low but steady. "The evidence is clear. It's not just about power anymore. It's about survival."
The French head scoffs. "Survival? We've all been through hell to get to where we are. And now you expect us to throw it all away for some moral high ground?"
"Some of us believe in that high ground," the Irish family head says, cutting through the noise. "I've seen enough."
I freeze, my eyes snapping to his. "You're with us?"
"I'm with what's right," he replies, standing up. His voice carries weight. "This… this is beyond what we agreed upon, Domenico. We were never supposed to cross this line. And I won't stand by it any longer. I vote to remove him."
Domenico's face hardens, his eyes narrowing, the smugness replaced by something far darker. "You would betray me?" he growls low and dangerous.
"I'm not betraying anyone," the Irish head says firmly, his gaze unwavering. "I'm choosing the truth. I'm choosing the future, not your twisted version of it."
The room erupts.
The Italian family head slams his hand on the table, his face turning red. "You can't just flip sides like this, O'Conner! You think you're the only one with power here? You think you can change everything?"
The French head joins in. "You'll regret this, O'Conner. We'll all regret this. Do you think he'll let you walk away with that vote? He'll hunt you down, your family, everything you care about."
"You think I don't know that?" O'Conner snaps with a low growl. "But I'll sleep better at night knowing I made the right choice."
My heart pounds in my chest as the arguments escalate. I glance at Alessio, who remains still, his eyes locked on Domenico, waiting for the inevitable.
Domenico stands abruptly, his chair screeching as it's pushed back. "Enough of this," he spits venomously. "You want to destroy everything I've built? Then I'll destroy you first."
The room explodes into chaos.
The Italian head reaches for his gun, his eyes wild. "You're making a mistake, O'Conner. You've sealed your fate."
Domenico's men, who had been silently watching from the sides, suddenly move. The heavy click of weapons being drawn fills the room.
"Get down!" Alessio shouts, shoving me to the ground as bullets ring out. I hit the floor hard, pain shooting through my side, but the pain doesn't matter. We're in the middle of a firefight now.
The Irish family head is the first to make a move, firing his gun and taking down one of Domenico's men. The room erupts into chaos as gunfire fills the air, the sound deafening.
I scramble to my feet, my hand reaching for my gun, and I return fire, taking down two of Domenico's men who were advancing on Alessio. The air is thick with smoke, the gunfire echoing off the walls.
"Stay low!" Alessio yells as he dives for cover behind one of the massive chairs at the table. He fires back, his shots accurate and deadly.
I hear shouting from the other side of the room, and before I can react, one of Domenico's guards is charging toward me. I fire once, twice, hitting him in the chest, but he's still coming.
I barely dodge as he swings a knife at me, but his hand catches my arm. The pain shoots up my arm as I twist and drive my elbow into his face. The force of it sends him stumbling back, and I don't hesitate. I fire.
Bodies fall. The gunfire is relentless. But all I can focus on is keeping my head down, my gun steady, my aim true.
Domenico's men are closing in. They won't stop until they've wiped us out.
The world around me is noise and smoke, but there's only one thought in my mind: We can't lose now. We've come too far.
And I won't let him win.
The world spins and tilts as I chase after Domenico, adrenaline surging through my veins, drowning out the pain in my side. I hear gunshots, shouts, chaos from the room behind me, but I can't stop now. He's too close to escaping, and I won't let him get away.
I round the corner of the hallway, and there he is—Domenico, striding toward the back exit, confident that he's evaded us. I push through the pain, moving faster, closing the distance between us. He hears me coming, but it's too late.
I barrel into him, knocking him off balance, sending him sprawling onto the cold marble floor. His gun clatters out of his hand, and we struggle as I try to pin him down. My vision blurs, my body shaking with exhaustion and blood loss. I can barely keep my grip on him.
He kicks out, knocking me back. My head slams against the stone, a flash of pain shooting through me. I shake it off, fighting to stay upright.
"You're too slow," Domenico sneers, grinning like this is some game.
But I'm not stopping. I can't.
With everything I have left, I push myself forward. I grab my gun, aiming it at him, but he's already reaching for another weapon, a small revolver hidden in his coat. I fire first, the bullet grazing his arm. He stumbles back, his grin faltering just for a moment.
But I can feel myself weakening, the world around me becoming more and more distant.
"Damn you!" Domenico roars. He raises his gun, but I'm faster. I fire again, and this time, it hits him in the chest. He stumbles backward, a look of shock crossing his face before he crashes to the ground.
I stand over him, my breath ragged, the world spinning as I try to keep my feet. I see him—Domenico—lying motionless at my feet, but I can't process it. I can't think. The blood loss, the pain, it's all too much.
I feel my legs give out beneath me, the room tilting as I stagger forward. My vision goes black around the edges.
"Sophia!"
I can't hold myself up anymore. I crumble to the ground, the cold marble meeting my skin like a slap. Darkness swallows me whole, and the last thing I feel is Alessio's arms around me.
My body feels like it's slipping away.
"Sophia, stay with me."
He's there, kneeling beside me, but I can barely hold onto the moment. His hands are shaking as they lift me, he is frantic. "No, no, don't do this."
But I can't answer him. I can't even lift my head.
" Please ." His voice cracks, desperation and fear flooding it. He pulls me into his arms, but it's like I'm already too far gone. I feel weightless, the world becoming a blur of faces and shouts.
I can feel his hands on my side, trying to stop the bleeding, but I know it's too much. It's too late.
No.
I fight it. I won't go down like this. Not after everything.
I try to speak, to reassure him, but all I manage is a weak, ragged breath. "Alessio…"
His eyes meet mine, filled with panic, but he forces himself to stay calm. "Stay with me, Sophia. You're not going anywhere. You can't. You won't ."
He holds me tighter, his hand pressed to my side, but the pain is overwhelming, and my vision fades again.
"I love you…" I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His grip tightens, and I feel his breath catch. "I love you, too," he can barely get the words out. "You're not dying on me. Not like this. Not now."
But it's hard to hold onto the moment. Everything is slipping, and I can barely keep my eyes open.
I hear him call for help—shouting Matteo's name, but even that fades as I feel myself drifting. The blood loss is too much, and I feel the darkness closing in.
This isn't how it was supposed to end.
But I can't stop it.