RAGNAR #2
They are both holding my arms. My spikes shoot upward, punching through their chins and deep into their skulls from underneath. The gurgling sound they make is almost sweet. I pull the spikes back before anyone notices they’re not white like normal purple alpha spikes, but silver.
Vito doesn’t wait. In panic, he grabs Sun, who’s still kneeling, and pulls him tight against his stomach like a human shield, pressing the gun to the boy’s temple.
At the same time, Massimo and Franco hit the ground, face down, dead before they land.
"One more step and I’ll blow his fucking brains out!" Vito screams.
I growl. My voice isn’t human anymore. It rumbles low, demonic.
"You’re already dead. You just don’t know it yet. Step away now and you might have a chance. Don’t, and you’re fucking gone. That’s a promise."
I speak through clenched teeth. I don’t want to give him this warning. But the military taught me to try. Taught me to hold back the kill instinct that floods me when I shift.
Vito snorts. "No fucking way. I’m not backing off. One move and that pretty head goes pop," he hisses.
My eyes lock onto Sun’s.
Those wide green eyes stare straight at me, and I know I can’t let him die. I’ve already fucked up enough; I can’t fuck up this too.
"On the ground," Vito growls. "Hands behind your head."
Fine, I think. Let him make one move, anything that shifts the barrel even a fraction away from Sun’s temple, and I don’t care what position I’m in, I’ll get to him. Alphas are fast, but not faster than me.
"You sick fuck," Vito whines, almost pitifully. "You killed Massimo and Franco, you fucking stinking purple freak, I hate you bastards like dogs!"
I know he never planned for a scenario where I walk out of this alive.
So I lower the plates tucked into my supraorbital ridges.
At the same time, I feel warm trickles at my fingertips.
What the fuck? My claws are out. That’s new.
This shit never happened to me during partial transformations, especially not when the spikes aren’t deployed and the change isn’t complete.
Vito doesn’t know it, but I can read him well, I’ve seen it too many times before. Years on the front lines taught me how to recognize it. He’s going to kill me. That decision’s already been made. He jerks his arm up and fires, aiming for my eye.
I dip my head just slightly. The bullet slams into my forehead, the hardest bone in the human body, not just for purple alphas.
It all happens in under two seconds. I know that a point-blank shot like that is going to stun the hell out of me, and Massimo’s only ten feet away, but I also know this is the only window I have to save Sun. I have to survive; I have to strike.
The moment I feel the bullet hit, my body surges into motion.
The window is razor-thin. If I’m even a second too slow, Vito will tilt the gun ninety degrees and press it back to Sun’s temple. I have no room for error.
The only upside is that Sun’s head is about level with Vito’s stomach, so I’ve got a clear shot at the soldier’s neck; his arms are lowered, one just under Sun’s chin, the other holding the gun.
I don’t think I’ve ever moved this fast in my life. The jump is pure explosive force; every tendon, every muscle firing at once. I throw everything I have into the strike, my claws fully extended, gleaming metallic.
My hand slams into his neck. It’s not just a hit, it’s a slice and a charge all in one. I feel my claws tear into his throat, ripping through the larynx, the esophagus, and tendons, until they puncture his spinal cord.
With a guttural scream, I grab it and then another crunch. Vito’s head snaps off.
I rear back and fling it, watching it tumble grotesquely across the lawn like something out of a fucked-up horror movie.
His headless body crumples forward, collapsing onto Sun’s back. Sun scrambles away, probably not wanting to get sprayed with the blood that’s gushing out, because it is gushing big times.
And that’s when I hear it: two more heartbeats nearby.
I spin around fast, sure I’m about to be lit up with another round of bullets, but no.
About thirty feet behind me, two figures stand completely still on the lawn.
Mauro and Luca.
I remain motionless over Vito’s corpse, my brain not quite firing right, getting shot close range will do that. For a moment, I just stare.
Sun is the first one to snap out of it, and the first thing he does is defend me .
"They tried to rape me, and beat me! He was just trying to save me!" he blurts out, his voice shaking. He looks terrified. Desperate.
Truth be told, I’m desperate too, I just don’t show it. I’ve screwed up my mission. This looks really bad. Three soldiers lie dead around me, soaking in puddles of blood.
My hands and shirt are covered in it. And I know, whatever happens in the next few minutes will decide everything .
Aware that these aren’t people I should mess with, I drop to my knees and rest my hands on my thighs so they can see I’m no longer a threat.
A strange silence falls over us, then Luca slowly turns his head and looks at Mauro.
Mauro gives the slightest nod.
With unhurried steps, Luca walks over and glances down at Massimo and Franco. It’s obvious they didn’t die from gunshots, my spikes pierced their skulls. I don’t know how much they saw, but I can guess it was plenty. The soldiers’ gunfire must’ve drawn these two out of the house.
The only small relief is that Anzo and Rocco aren’t home today. I saw them leaving earlier in the passageway.
Luca steps closer to Sun, who’s still crouched on the ground. His shirt is torn, and his shoulder is soaked in blood.
Then Luca speaks.
"Take Ragnar to your bathroom. He needs to wash off before he leaves the fortress. The soldiers in the passageway will smell the blood on him."
I stare at him in disbelief. There’s something in what he said that sends a cold shiver down my spine.
He called me Ragnar.
But that’s not the name I put on my application!
I put Raghu.
How the hell does Luca know my real name?
It’s… deeply unsettling. What the fuck is going on here?
"I don’t understand," I blurt, too many strange things hitting me all at once. "So you’re not planning to kill me? I killed three of your soldiers!"
"No. I killed three of our soldiers who were trying to rape Sun," Luca says calmly, his amber eyes watching me keenly.
None of this makes sense.
"But why? Why are you on my side?"
Something flickers across his face before he speaks, jaw clenched.
"They broke a core rule of our organization. No one touches the partners of a family member. Ever."
I’m still kneeling, more disoriented than ever. This twist throws everything I thought I understood about this family into question. Clearly, there’s a major divide between the way Anzo and Rocco act versus Luca and Mauro.
Still, I’m not jumping to conclusions; these guys are all mafiosos.
"Killing soldiers requires capo permission," I say cautiously, watching them both.
"Not when I act in my imago form," Luca replies with a dark smile.
I’m well aware that even the law offers some leniency to purple alphas when they’re transformed.
You can’t fully control yourself then. You act on violent instinct.
If I’d been calm, I wouldn’t have wanted to kill Massimo and Franco, just beat them and disarm them.
But in a partial shift, even just with the armor, my brain flips into binary mode.
Who’s the enemy. Who do I protect. Who needs to die. Everything becomes black and white.
"How much time do you need to regenerate this?" He points toward his forehead, obviously referring to my wound.
"Twenty minutes."
Mauro makes a gesture, some kind of hand signal I don’t understand, and Luca nods, saying,
"Get out of here. We’ll clean this up. Wash the blood off and change. Wait twenty minutes to heal. Only then do you leave, like nothing happened. If anyone asks, you were working in the far part of the garden. You heard gunshots but didn’t want to get involved."
Then Mauro signs something else, and Luca adds,
"Cameras are off. You can get back inside the house safely. No one will see a thing."
I nod. Sun jumps to his feet and gives Luca this awkward little bow.
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
Luca doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look at him. Like Sun doesn’t exist.
It strikes me as odd.
Most men, if not all, would probably look at Sun with interest, but Luca doesn’t even seem to register him.
It was the same earlier, when we had the first situation with Vito.
Completely ignoring. Even Mauro is giving Sun the occasional secretive glance, that distinct look of approval, but Luca is completely immune to Sun’s charm.
Does Luca already have a mate?
Unfortunately, I can’t pick up his pheromones to confirm it, my suppressants block that. But once we put some distance between us and the others, heading toward the building, I lean toward Sun and ask in a low voice,
"Is Luca mated?"
Sun looks startled, his face tight with stress, blood droplets all over. He glances around nervously and answers quickly, like the question is irrelevant.
"I don’t know. Luca’s on suppressants."
But something inside me insists on knowing, this itchy, creeping feeling under my skin.
"Interesting. What would he need suppressants for? He shouldn't use them as a caporegime , he needs his pheromones to have it easier with the soldati ."
Sun shrugs and doesn’t answer. He’s too shaken to talk about anything that isn’t a life-or-death matter.
But I keep pushing. "Are any of his brothers on suppressants?"
"No, no one here’s on suppressants. None of the alphas, only their omega cousin Ennio. You and Luca are the only ones. That’s why I asked you about it before. Some people might take it as a sign you’re hiding something."
This time, I don’t answer.
We slip into the building. Sun walks ahead, glancing around, careful nobody notices I’m with him.