18. Action
Chapter eighteen
Action
(Nico)
W hen they kick down the door, shaking it on its hinges, I’m ready.
There is no fear, no anxiety, no hesitation—only a focused resolve.
This ends today, one way or another.
Just as we planned, Kiah hides in the closet, waiting, while I remain seemingly tied to the wooden chair. Hands behind my back, facing the door, they can’t see that the ropes Kiah dragged from her secret room are not fully knotted at the back.
She even made me put on my clothes for this part, the ones I arrived in that first night. Freshly washed and ironed, the materials feel uncomfortable against my skin; foreign.
Almost as weird as the empty space around my neck. For some reason, I miss the comforting grip of that collar. There was something grounding about its constant deadly threat.
But there is no time to ponder its loss for long.
As if almost on cue, five goons dressed in all black barge in with their weapons drawn. Correction: five goons plus my short-shit brother in one of his flamboyant blue suits.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my darling brother. Hey, Dom,” Ricardo says in his high-pitched voice as he waltzes in last, twisting his ring (my ring) like he owns the place. I knew he stole it. Fucker.
He walks right up to me, cocking his gun, as his entourage surrounds me like a rent-a-crowd. Some of them are my father’s men, but there are some new faces too—Ricardo’s men.
“Domenico,” Stefano, my father’s right hand, says with a curt bow of the head as the men encroach on my space. He doesn’t look too pleased to be following orders from Ricardo.
I respectfully nod to Stefano before returning my attention to my brother.
“Took you long enough,” I taunt, smirking at him.
Ricardo snarls, his cruel smile twisting his face as he cracks his knuckles. “Such a fool, Dom. You were never going to be king,” he says simply, waving his gun around carelessly as he speaks.
“Do you really think you’ll get away with it?” I ask.
Darkness flashes in his eyes. “Shut up, or I’ll make you.”
Until that moment, I wasn’t 100% sure it was him, but now I know without a doubt—this fucker killed our father and then framed me for it.
Stupid twat. He’s always had more muscle than brains.
“Why did you do it? Did you want the throne that badly?”
“I’d stop talking if I were you, Dom. You’re wanted dead or alive…”
“Then why not kill me right now?”
“Hmm, I thought about it. But it would be more fun to torture you slowly.” He laughs, his voice screeching like nails on a chalkboard. Always our mother’s favorite, no wonder he turned out such a vile cunt just like her.
“This isn’t over,” I threaten.
“Oh, but it is. Get him!” Ricardo orders, and the others tighten the circle around me.
“Pity about that,” I say calmly, “We could’ve used some dolphins .”
“What?” Confusion clouds my brother’s face, but he doesn’t have time to ponder the weird sentence choice.
When we planned our attack, Kiah did say dolphins was a dumb code word, and I’d “ never work it into conversation naturally ,” but fuck that, it worked.
It’s show time!
Quick as lightning, Kiah throws open the cupboard door, my knife raised.
It’s my cue and I jump to my feet, shrugging off the loose ropes, adrenaline surging through my veins.
The room explodes into a frenzy of shouts and gunshots.
"What the f—" Ricardo’s curse is cut short as Kiah's fist connects with his jaw. The sickening crunch is music to my ears. Atta girl.
I duck under a wild swing from one of the goons, driving my elbow into his solar plexus. He doubles over, gasping.
There’s no time to savor it, though.
"Domenico, you treacherous bastard!" One of Ricardo’s men, Marco, I think, lunges at me with a knife.
I sidestep, grabbing his wrist and twisting.
The blade clatters to the floor.
I slam my forehead into his nose, feeling cartilage give way.
With his own blade, I slice his throat open, watching as it bleeds onto the washed wooden floor.
Through the chaos, I catch glimpses of Kiah. She faces two attackers simultaneously, her movements fluid and unstoppable. One asshole swings a baton, but she ducks under it effortlessly. As he overextends, she drives her palm up into his chin. His head snaps back, and he staggers.
Without missing a beat, Kiah pivots, using his body as a shield against the second man's wild punch. She grabs the asshole’s arm, twisting it behind his back in a painful lock. A quick strike to the back of his knee sends him to the ground where she steps on his throat until his eyes roll over in the back of his head.
Watching her fight is the most mesmerizing thing, but now is not the time to get distracted.
Too late.
Before I can pull my gaze away, a meaty hand closes around my throat from behind.
I struggle, vision blurring as oxygen is cut off.
Then, a sickening crack and the pressure releases.
I gulp air desperately, turning to see Kiah standing over my attacker, her eyes blazing, newly acquired gun raised.
"Thanks," I gasp.
"Eyes on the fight, Nico," she says curtly, already turning to face the next threat.
Forcing myself to focus, we work in tandem now, covering each other's blind spots.
I spin, barely avoiding a bullet that whistles past my ear.
Suddenly, a scream pierces the air.
My blood runs cold as I see Ricardo’s chokehold on Kiah, a knife pressed to her ribs. A trickle of blood stains her shirt where it has already nicked her.
"Stop, or I’ll end this bitch right now,” the fucker snarls at me.
Something primal snaps inside me.
The world narrows to a pinpoint, everything tinged red.
Not Kiah.
With a roar that doesn't sound human, I launch myself at my brother.
My hands find skin, breaking, ripping.
I'm barely aware of my actions, only the feral need to destroy the asshole who dared harm the innkeeper, even if he’s my brother— especially because he is.
"Don't. You. Ever. Touch. Her." Each word is punctuated by another vicious blow. I'm dimly aware of my brother’s screams, of the warm blood on my hands. But none of that matters.
The mere thought of anything happening to Kiah, of losing her, tears through me, unleashing chaos in its wake.
“Nico! Stop!" Kiah's voice cuts through the haze. Her hand on my arm is gentle but firm. “You’ll kill him.”
“Let me!”
“Nico! No!” her voice is authoritative, commanding. It snaps me out of it.
“Nico…” she says, softer this time, as she tugs at my arm. “Remember the plan.”
I blink, the red fog slowly clearing as I find my way back to her voice.
Ricardo’s limp body drops to the floor, still alive, but barely.
Around us, the other attackers are sprawled on the floor, either dead or unconscious.
My brother laughs like a maniac, blood splattering from his missing teeth.
I pull him up by his ripped collar, “What’s so funny?”
“This won’t change shit. You’ll just be the guy who killed two Dons,” he spits, getting his dirty blood on my shoes.
“I don’t think so. You’re coming with me. So you can tell them what you did,” I say with conviction.
“Oh? Doubtful. Why would I confess?”
I don’t answer, just stand aside to let Kiah click the metal collar that used to be mine around the battered asshole’s neck.
“We have ways,” she answers, kicking him in the gut for good measure, before turning to me.
Kiah's wild eyes meet mine, a mix of concern and something else I can't quite name. “You okay?” she asks softly, trying to wipe the blood from my cheek but only smearing it more.
I nod, my hands shaking as the adrenaline begins to slow.
"You were amazing,” I murmur.
She shrugs, but I catch a hint of pride in her eyes. "You didn't do so bad yourself, little brat. Good job.”
The praise sinks into my skin, warming me from the inside, and I grin, letting some of the tension seep from my veins.
It’s far from over, but phase one is complete.
Throwing caution to the wind, I reach for Kiah.
My hands cup her face gently, a stark contrast to the violence of moments ago.
I pull her close, my lips crashing against hers in a passionate, desperate kiss.
The world disappears, and there's only Kiah—the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the faint taste of blood and sweat.
It's messy and urgent, born from the chaos we've just survived and the realization of how close I came to losing her.
My fingers tangle in her hair as I deepen the kiss, leaving streaks of red highlights in the blonde.
But she doesn’t stop me as I pour everything into the kiss—my gratitude, my admiration, the storm of emotions I can't put into words.
She responds with equal fervor, her hands gripping my sticky shirt, pulling me closer.
When we finally break apart, both breathless, our eyes meet, and I see my own tumultuous emotions mirrored in her gaze.
"I..." I start, but words fail me.
She chucks my duffle bag at me—just money inside, the means to my original end. My ticket home. My chance to clear my name.
Everything I've wanted since I washed up on this godforsaken island.
So why does my chest feel hollow at the thought of leaving?
The realization hits me with the force of a bullet. Home isn't a place anymore. It's a person. It's her.
Kiah grabs my hand, always efficient, always in control, but I pull her back. Time seems to slow, like the moment before a trigger pull.
"What is it? We need to hurry, we—"
"Kiah. Wait." My voice cracks, raw with emotions I've never let myself feel. "Please."
"There's no time," she insists, tension lining her face. "You have to go."
"No." The word erupts from somewhere deep inside me, surprising us both.
Her nose wrinkles in that way that makes my heart stutter. "What do you mean no?"
I struggle to translate this ache in my chest into words. How do I tell her that the thought of leaving feels like drowning? That somewhere between her capture and her care, between her strength and her softness, she's become as essential as breathing?
"I can't do it alone." My hands find her shoulders, needing to anchor myself to her. "I don't want to."
She cocks her head, studying me with those eyes that see too much. "You don't need me, Nico."
"But I do." The truth burns my throat. "God, I do. The thought of facing all of it—the family, the accusations, the empire—without you beside me..." I swallow hard. "You're the only person who's ever seen all of me, Kiah. The darkness and the light. And you didn't run. You didn't try to fix me. You just...matched me, step for step."
Her breath catches, and I press on, desperate now. "I feel unstoppable with you. The mere thought of being away from you, even for an hour, grips my throat like a tightening noose."
I search her face, looking for any sign that she feels this too—this wild, terrifying thing between us that's stronger than duty or destiny.
She sighs, her eyes a battlefield of emotions. "Nico..."
"No." I pull her closer, our foreheads touching. "I'm not going without you. I can't. Everything I thought I wanted, everything I've fought for—none of it means anything if you're not there." My voice drops to a whisper. "Come with me. Please ."
The world holds its breath, waiting for her answer.