36. CHIARA
Killian leads me through the massive underground safe mansion, and after circling the top level twice, we begin creeping down to the next. He reaches out and takes the gun from my hand, and I realize shit is about to get serious.
He’s here. But where?
We move slowly through the home, and Killian is more cautious than I’ve ever seen him before, checking areas most wouldn’t even think to look, but Sergiu isn’t some random drug dealer off the street who needs to be punished. He’s the man who stood at Killian’s side all these years. He’s just as brutal as Killian. The two of them were brought up together, trained side by side. They know each other’s weaknesses, where to strike, and how to make it count.
It’s the first time I’m at risk of losing him. This could go either way, so if Killian tells me to move, I’ll move. If he tells me to run, I’ll sprint faster than I ever have in my life. Whatever he needs from me, I’ll do it without question, because the idea of leaving here without him isn’t acceptable to me.
If Killian dies here today, then I will too. There’s no doubt about it.
We move through the main bedrooms, past a sitting area, and to the other half of the downstairs area. There are a lot of closed doors, and each of them makes me nervous, not knowing what lies beyond.
We approach what I assume is a private office when the slightest movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention, and without hesitation, I drop to the ground. “Left!” I tell Killian, but he’s already seen it. A bullet whizzes straight past where my head was only a moment ago, and Killian shoots back, a bullet plunging straight through Sergiu’s knee.
“Ahhh fuck,” Sergiu roars before diving behind a couch.
Killian glances toward me, his eyes wide as they scan over my body, making sure I wasn’t hit. “I’m good,” I tell him. “Now, go and get the fucker so we can really end this.”
Killian nods and stalks toward the couch that Sergiu is hiding behind as I remain down on the ground, my gaze bouncing through the room to make sure nothing goes wrong. Killian walks with the kind of confidence that gets me hot, and as he approaches the couch, he holds his gun at the ready, but I’m not foolish enough to assume Sergiu isn’t just as prepared.
“It’s over,” Killian taunts. “You and I both know how this is going to end, so you might as well come out so we can get this over and done with.”
Killian remains on the opposite side of the couch, and without warning, he shoots through the cushions. I expect to hear a pained groan, or a gasp at the very least, but when we hear nothing, my heart starts to race just a little faster. “What the—”
A hand grips my ankle, and I’m dragged across the marble tiles as a sharp yelp tears from the back of my throat. I barely have a moment to register that Sergiu has crawled around the back of the couch and through the sitting area without detection.
Killian whirls around as I’m painfully yanked to my feet by my hair. Horror rushes through me, knowing he could kill me in an instant, just as quickly as Killian killed Monica. There’s no time to think. No time to plan. I have to act now, and I have to do it fast.
Then before Killian can even attempt to make a move, my hand strikes like lightning, grabbing the knife strapped to my thigh and blindly whipping it up in a quick arc over my shoulder. I feel the bite of something in my waist at the same moment my blade plunges straight through Sergiu’s eye.
Sergiu roars in agony as Killian lunges toward me, violently yanking me away from his cousin, and as my head whips back to take in Sergiu, all I see is the blade protruding from his eye socket as he crumbles to the ground.
“Holy fucking shit,” I screech before I’ve even hit the ground.
Everything happens so quickly.
One minute Killian is flying toward me, and the next, I’m sprawled on the floor of his mega-underground mansion as he subdues his cousin. “You good?” Killian throws over his shoulder with a bite in his tone.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I say, scrambling to my feet and looking over myself to see a patch of blood beginning to seep into the soft silk at my waist. “I think he cut me. Maybe. I can’t be sure.”
Not wanting to risk turning away from Sergiu, he knocks him unconscious before finally moving toward me, his gaze roaming over my face. “You sure have a thing with eyeballs,” he murmurs as his fingers dance across the high split of my dress and drag the material higher to my waist.
He looks over my body, taking in the fresh wound. “He got you, alright. But you moved just in time. It could have been worse.”
“So I’ll live?”
“You’ll live,” he tells me, that bite still in his tone. “Now, let’s really finish this.”
“Hey,” I say, grabbing his chin and bringing his gaze back to mine. “What’s wrong?”
His gaze darkens, and every bit of it eats at my already blackened soul. “I should have been able to play that out before it happened. He should never have gotten that close to you.”
“You’re not a mind reader.”
“No, I am not,” he agrees. “However, I was the one who taught him how to move like a ghost. I should have seen the signs.”
“It’s okay, Killian. We’ve got him now,” I tell him as I reach up onto my tippy toes and brush a kiss to his lips, still so addicted to the way everything pulses within me just being this close to him. “And if you need, you can spend the rest of your life making it up to me. For now, though, we need to end this because I’m hungry, and dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower is sounding pretty damn good to me right now.”
Killian laughs and rolls his eyes, but he gets back into action, and twenty minutes later, all I can do is gape at the sight before me.
“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I murmur to myself.
We’re standing in some kind of tiled chamber. It doesn’t look like the cells back at his home, but there’s definitely something eerie about it. Plus, any room that comes equipped with a hose and drainage system seems somewhat sketchy to me.
If I thought the room was bad, it’s got nothing on what Killian actually plans to do in it.
All four of Sergiu’s limbs are chained, and I watch with my jaw hanging open as Killian presses a button and the chains retract to each corner of the room. They pull him up off the ground and stretch him wide like a fucking chunky star, and it’s got to be the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Not to mention, the knife I jammed through his eye is still there, flopping around with every little movement.
I thought mafia wars were all about taking out family lines, the occasional standard torture, and a bit of unfriendly gunfire. But this goes to show just how deranged some of these men are. And the fact that this was already installed into the property says a lot. There’s nothing spur-of-the-moment about this.
“Not going to lie,” I tell Killian as he stands back to survey his handiwork. “This is messed up.”
“I’m aware,” he says, moving back toward my side. “However, this is about more than what he did to you. He was my second-in-command, the one I was supposed to trust to have my back. His vow of loyalty was broken, a betrayal of the highest treason. His actions against you were horrendous, and I will ensure he pays for that. However, his death sentence must also encompass the rage I feel when I look in his eyes.”
I nod, not quite understanding. This isn’t a world I know enough about to be able to compare the magnitude of his crimes, nor have I ever had a stable family situation to truly understand how it feels to be betrayed by someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally, but I’m sure I’ll get there. One day, I’ll understand and be able to share in his pain. Until then, all I can do is support him in whatever he needs to do to make this sit right in his soul.
I don’t respond, but Killian doesn’t need me to. He’s not the type of man who needs to justify his actions. He does what’s required of him, and if you have a problem with it, that’s on you.
After offering me a sad smile, he moves across the room and reaches for the hose. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t intend to start until he regains consciousness, and at this rate, we’ll be here all night,” he says.
“You’re going to hit him with freezing water?”
“I am.”
“Would ummm . . . Would it be entirely inappropriate if I did it?”
He turns to face me, and his brow arches in pleasant surprise. It’s as though the idea of me taking an interest in his work couldn’t make him happier. “Be my guest,” he says, offering me the hose.
I smile wide as I gingerly take it from him, and after he turns on the tap, I twist the nozzle and watch the water shoot out of the hose. It drenches him, and then just for good measure, I raise the harsh spray of water to his face and watch as it ricochets off the blade in his eye. “Is this what waterboarding is?” I throw over my shoulder, not taking my eye off Sergiu.
“Not exactly,” Killian says. “I can teach you all about it though. It’s quite an effective interrogation tactic when performed correctly. However, I wouldn’t wear anything of value. It can be quite messy.”
A smirk settles across my face, but as the water hits the blade at the wrong angle, it dislodges and flings across the small room. “Damn,” I say with a heavy sigh, but not a moment later, Sergiu re-enters the world with a loud gasp.
His one good eye widens in horror, realizing the unfortunate position he’s in, but unlike his wife, there’s no acceptance of his fate. He’s filled with terror and pulls against the chains, desperately trying to find a way out, but there isn’t one. He should know better.
Turning the hose off, I move out of the way as Killian steps forward to take control, slowly unbuttoning his shirt in the process. He tosses it aside, and something warns me that this is about to get messy.
There’s an animalistic look in his eyes, and it speaks to me on a deep, primal level. This isn’t just a man seeking justice, this is my man protecting both of us in the only way he knows how. And goddamn, the way he so confidently steps up to take care of business is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
God, I love him so much. How could I have ever questioned that? How could I have ever allowed him to make me fear him? It’s not possible. To love him isn’t to fear him. He was wrong. He would never hurt me because he’s not capable of it. His heart won’t allow him to.
Killian DeLorenzo would sooner lay down his own life than allow harm to come to me, and because of that, I will always belong wholeheartedly to him. Everything that I am is his.
Trying to focus on what’s about to happen, I watch Killian move right in front of Sergiu. “Release me,” Sergiu demands. “Haven’t you done enough? You’re going to destroy the DeLorenzo legacy. You’ve already slaughtered my wife, and now me? What’s next, Killian? You’ll burn the empire I built to the ground.”
“You built?” Killian questions, before striding across to the small table at the side of the room and scanning over the endless options of tools before picking up a power drill. “You didn’t build anything, cousin. You thrived in the world I provided for you. Without me, you would be nothing. I gave you your position at the top of this family, and in return, all I asked for was your undying loyalty. You’ve betrayed me, Sergiu. You broke the solemn vow you made me. You put your hands on my wife, UNDER MY OWN FUCKING ROOF,” he roars. “You stood by knowing Monica was the one who beat her black and blue and you kept quiet. You put your own priorities above mine, and for that, I will see to it that you are punished. You will never come back from this.”
“SHE’S A FILTHY WHORE, KILLIAN,” Sergiu throws back at him. “You’re destroying everything for a whore.”
“You will not speak of my wife,” Killian spits, stepping closer to him and looking him dead in the eye. “The thirty-odd years you’ve stood at my side pales in comparison to the past few weeks I’ve had with Chiara. She will always come before you. She encompasses everything that is good, and she is stronger than you could ever dream of being. You’re nothing in comparison, and when I look at her, I will always know that what I did here was right. You’re pitiful, Sergiu. A sorry excuse of a man. No one will miss you. No one will even remember you. There will only be gratitude for your absence.”
Killian raises the power drill, giving it a test as he pulls the lever. The sound reverberates off the walls, sending a chill down my spine, and yet I find myself eagerly watching, anticipating how this will go down.
“Cousin,” Sergiu warns. “Don’t do this. I can be better.”
Killian tunes out his desperate pleas, and not a moment later, he presses the drill against Sergiu’s ribs and pulls the lever. Sergiu roars in agony as the drill effortlessly cuts through his flesh and down to the bone. I cringe, unable to imagine the pain as the sound of crunching bone fills the air.
I hear the exact moment Killian punctures his lung, and only then does he pull back on the drill. I expect him to put the drill down and pick another tool, but he doesn’t. He just picks a new spot and goes again.
And again.
And again.
Thirty-six times.
One for every time I screamed for Ezekiel and his men to stop. One for each agonizing plea torn from the throat of a helpless woman. And now, he gets to feel just a fraction of the hell I endured.
This drill is for me, and once Killian is through with it, he places it back on the table, right where he found it. He switches it out for a machete, and as the blade catches in the light, I know that what comes next . . . This is for him.