Chapter Twenty-Nine – Vieri
The rope bites into my wrists, coarse and wet from the evening mist. We’re tied back-to-back, me and Riccardo, against a thick, gnarled tree that leans slightly toward the cliff’s edge. One bad shuffle and we’d be nothing but memory and red pulp on the rocks below. It’s almost amazing how today has gone from bad to horrible.
Bugatti’s pacing again. His phone’s pressed to his ear, the screen glowing like a demon’s eye in the dark. He curses under his breath and glances toward Bellandi.
“The priest’s not picking up. Might already be with the girl,” he mutters.
The old man takes another drag from his cigarette, lips curling. He flicks ash into the wind.
“Then let’s just handle these two,” Bugatti says, trying to sound decisive.
Bellandi glances at him, then—real casual—he pats Bugatti’s back. “You did good.”
Bugatti smiles. The old man’s hands slide down to his lower back and then—without warning—he shoves.
Bugatti falls instantly vanishing over the cliff with a soundless drop. And then comes a thud.
Bellandi exhales smoke like nothing happened. “Oops.”
Riccardo swears under his breath. I grit my teeth.
Bellandi turns slowly, that shark smile back in place. “Now, your turn. Which one of you wants to go first?”
“You can have the diamonds. All of them.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That easy, huh? Do I look dumb?”
“Yes,” Riccardo quips.
“Then take me,” I say. “Let my brother go.”
He pulls out a lighter, flicks it open. The flame dances like a promise.
“But I’m not heartless,” he adds, almost cheery. “I’ll give you both time to say a prayer. How’s that?”
“You killed our father didn’t you?” Riccardo spits.
“Sadly no. He died because he was a bitch who didn’t go to check his heart before it gave way.”
He walks off laughing and for the first time, I pray cause it’s the only thing I can do. Bellandi isn’t going to be stopped at this rate.
Dio mio. If there’s anything left in me worth saving… if my brother can get another shot… take me. Just me. I deserve the flames. Let Riccardo go.
Riccardo groans. “This is what I get for getting clean? Should’ve stayed on molly. Would’ve passed out and missed the fireworks.”
Bellandi is back, metal can in hand, sloshing fuel over our legs, our torsos, the rope.
Riccardo yells. “You sick bastard!”
The last splash hits my collar. This is the end I guess.
Headlights cut through the trees. Gravel crunches under tires. Bellandi pauses mid-pour. He grins. “Finally.” He stands and raises his voice. “Father, bring the girl! I’m almost out of gasoline!”
The car door slams shut. It’s Enzo. Alfio. Omero.
Bellandi freezes, recognizing them, hand darting toward his hip. His pistol’s out in a flash, aimed straight at my head.
“Drop your weapons,” he snarls, voice high and unhinged. “Or I blow his fucking brains out.”
Behind him, our men are lined up in a semicircle, weapons drawn. The headlights from their cars throw long shadows across the hilltop. Boots crunch gravel. Triggers are twitching.
“Stand down,” Alfio barks, his arm slicing through the air. “Nobody moves!”
His eyes are locked on the old man. His stance is defensive, but he’s confused.
“Bellandi, come on, we are family. We can sort this out.”
Bellandi tilts his head and smirks. “Don’t be silly.”
“If you stop now, we can call it even. We’ll forget everything. The explosion at the dinner, everything,” Enzo says.
“What about my diamonds?” he asks.
“What fucking diamonds?” Omero asks.
Bellandi looks at me. “True, you hid it from them didn’t you? Greedy little boy.”
A girl—short, dark curls, fast feet—slinks low behind Bellandi, dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. She falls on him and a flash of steel arcs across his throat.
He chokes. His eyes flare wide as blood spurts from the gash. He stumbles forward, gasping for a breath that won’t come. His gun slips from his fingers, hitting the ground with a dead thud.
Lunetta bursts from the trees, eyes wild, lips trembling. She runs over to me, and she falls to her knees, sawing at the ropes around my wrists. The twine is soaked and stiff with sweat and blood.
Her hair brushes my arm. Her scent—no, her presence—wraps around me like warmth after frostbite. I stare down at her, disbelieving. Her hands fumble once, twice, then get faster.
“You’re real,” I breathe, voice cracking. “You’re real.”
Her hands don’t stop, but her eyes flick up to mine—shining, red-rimmed. “Of course I am,” she whispers. “I came back.”
The last knot slips free. Before I can even lift my arms, she reaches for my face.
And then she kisses me.
Her lips are soft, insistent, aching with relief. It’s not rushed or frantic—it’s a homecoming. Her fingers tangle in my hair as she leans into me. And I—I kiss her back.
One arm wraps around her waist, the other slides up her spine. I drag her into my chest like I could fold her into my body, bury her somewhere deep inside where no one could ever take her again.
Her tears wet my skin, and I don’t know if they’re hers or mine.
She’s sobbing into my mouth, and I don’t care. My hands are shaking, clutching her tight, trying to convince myself she’s not a hallucination born from blood loss.
“You came back to me,” I murmur, breathless against her lips.
“I had to.”
I press my forehead to hers. Our breaths tangle. The world around us is chaos—boots, yells, footsteps—but here, in this moment, nothing exists but her.
“Vieri—” she starts to say something else, but a sharp voice slices through the haze.
“For the love of heaven,” Riccardo groans behind us, “can we just go?”
Alfio and Omero tear through Riccardo’s bindings while I pull Lunetta into my arms.
I walk with her in my arms, one step at a time, down the path toward the headlights. She feels like home. And I’d carry her through hell if I had to.
“Fuck, look out!” Omero shrieks.
I turn too late. It’s Bellandi.
His body’s soaked in blood, his eyes burning with rage, charging toward me like a feral animal.
I feel Lunetta twist in my arms.
“No—” I shout.
She spins in my grasp, she steps in front of me.
The knife sinks in. Her gasp slices through the night.
Blood pours from Lunetta’s stomach. Her hands go to it instinctively. She stumbles into me, collapsing against my chest.
I drop to my knees with her, holding her. “No. No. No. Lunetta—no.”
She looks up at me. Her mouth trembles, but she smiles.
And she says—softly, breathlessly—
“Baby… we have a baby, Vieri.”
Then her eyes flutter shut.
Her breath is still against my cheek. But her weight is shifting—slumping—like her body has given up before I have.
Blood soaks through my shirt, seeping hot against my chest. My vision blurs, but I blink through it, not now, not now.
I lower her gently to the grass. “Hold on,” I whisper. “You hear me? Hold on.”
Enzo’s already beside me, yelling for help, pressing his hands against her wound. The dark haired girl is screaming somewhere, her cries cracking like glass.
Bellandi is on his knees, blood spilling from his throat, his knife still red, still warm with Lunetta’s blood. The bastard’s choking on his own breath, but he’s still moving.
My hand closes around the blade. He raises his head, tries to speak—maybe a plea, maybe another curse. I don’t care.
I cross the distance in four strides.
The old bastard lifts his head just in time to see me crouch.
“This is for her.”
I slam the knife into his left eye.
His scream is inhuman. It rips through the night like the sound of a soul being torn in half.
Blood bursts up in a geyser, hot and thick, painting my face, my hands, soaking through my sleeves. The eye collapses beneath the blade with a sickening pop, cartilage crunching as I push the steel deeper, twisting it until his body spasms under me like a dying animal.
He bucks—once, twice—but I don’t stop. I twist again. His fingers twitch at my boots. I ram the blade once more.
His body jerks once more, then goes slack, face frozen in a grotesque snarl—mouth open, teeth bloodstained, one socket empty and leaking black.
I rise, covered in red. My breath is loud in my ears. The knife clatters to the ground.
Behind me, I hear Enzo shout something—Omero’s voice cuts through it—but all I see is Lunetta.
I run to her. Drop to my knees. Pull her into my arms.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her temple, brushing the blood-stuck hair from her face. “I’ve got you, baby girl. Get the car,” I bark. “Now!”