Chapter 16 #2
“Do you really think you could pull the trigger on me if it came down to it? Because I know you wouldn’t. You don’t have it in you, Ricci.” My lips curved up into a cruel smile as I spoke.
“Don’t question what I can and can’t do, Ana.
You’d be surprised.” He dipped his head, running his tongue along my neck, his grip never loosening on my waist. “I’m going to make sure you watch as his life drains away.
You’re going to listen as he chokes out his final words to you.
You’re going to hear, see, and feel everything I felt. ”
“His final words would be to his golden child.” I glanced over my shoulder as my father before giving Lorenzo my attention once more. “And in case you haven’t yet guessed, that’s never been me.”
He stood quiet for a second, as if working out his next move.
“What? Did you think his golden child was me?” I cackled. “Poor, poor Lorenzo.” I slapped his hand away from me, unable to control my amusement. “If you wanted to hurt or upset one of my father’s children, you should have picked my brother. He’s the easily broken one.”
He reached for his waistband, the cocking of the gun cut through the silence as my father remained expressionless, barely able to look at me.
“Do you not wish to plead for your life, Fedorov?” Lorenzo laughed, directing his question to my father.
“We never plead, Lorenzo. I thought you’d have gathered that already.” I scoffed. My heart froze the second he aimed the gun at my father’s head. Right between his eyes. My father’s gaze dropped to mine as if to say goodbye, but I had other plans. This wasn’t how tonight was going to go.
I would run the show, not Lorenzo.
Something inside me snapped. Without thinking too much, I lunged, snatching the gun from Lorenzo’s grip. My movements were swift and somewhat desperate, but my aim was steady and remained unmatched. With a sharp crack, I fired, the bullet tearing into my father’s shoulder.
For the first time ever, Victor looked proud.
So fucking proud.
He knew that no matter the outcome of tonight, Lorenzo wouldn’t break me.
He wouldn’t see me cry or fall apart like he wished.
Lorenzo’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and for a moment, neither of us moved.
We were frozen in the moment, my arm outstretched, the gun still aimed at my father while Lorenzo stared at me in disbelief.
“You shot him… You shot your own father?” he stammered, his voice nowhere near as confident as it was previously.
My eyes dared him to underestimate me again. “I’m not the puppet you thought I’d be,” I said, my voice low and emotionless. “And neither is he.” I cocked my head towards my father who watched the pair of us intently.
Lorenzo’s face twisted in anger, but there was something else there too. Respect or fear but I’d never know which. He’d never give it away. “You’re full of surprises, Ana.”
I was and I would continue to be. My grandfather taught me too damn well to succumb to someone like Lorenzo Ricci.
He always said that no matter how scared you felt inside, you had to push it aside, slip on that mask, and let it remain there until you were ready to remove it.
That’s why I shot my father. I knew it would injure him but wouldn’t cause any lasting damage.
It was just enough to show my so-called husband who he was messing with.
“This isn’t over,” he snapped, snatching the gun from me.
“For tonight it is,” I told him, having the upper hand with no plans of letting it go. “I suggest you call Red to drive you home because I am taking my father in your car.” I sneered, grabbing the key off of the table that held an array of torture devices. “Have fun, did you?”
“Not enough.” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing at me. “I will kill him, Ana. That’s a promise.”
“Then go on. Be my guest.” I stepped to the side as he watched me with confused eyes. “The target is there, so what’s stopping you?”
For once, he seemed lost for words. He clutched the gun in his hand, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
“Lorenzo, if you thought I was brought up to be a yes, sir, no, sir, kind of woman, you’re wrong.
I was taught that, no matter the situation, to never show any signs of weakness.
So, if you want to kill my father, go ahead, but you won’t get the reaction you want from me.
” My voice was cold as I returned my attention back to my father.
“His days are numbered,” Lorenzo threatened as I unlocked the chains around Victor’s wrists, the welts and cuts seeping and sore.
“Somehow, I doubt they are,” I challenged as my father pulled himself up.
I didn’t offer help or assistance. He could manage well enough on his own.
“Unless you’re planning on putting that bullet in my back, I suggest you put the gun down.
” My voice was steady and calm, but my heart hammered against my ribs.
“Take that fucker home,” he instructed, his voice nothing more than a hiss, his words laced with hatred.
“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day where Lorenzo Ricci lets his wife call the shots on who lives and who dies.” My father cackled, the sound grating and unhinged.
Lorenzo stood there silently. He didn’t flinch at the words my father threw at him.
His face was a mask of stone, his eyes cold and unreadable.
I glanced at him briefly, my stomach twisting with fear and something else I couldn’t quite work out.
Without hesitation, Lorenzo raised the gun, his movements deliberate and precise.
He fired the remaining bullet into my father’s hand.
It tore through flesh and bone before exiting as quickly as it had entered.
The warehouse erupted in a cacophony of noise—my father’s scream, the echo of the gunshot, the clatter of the gun hitting the floor as Lorenzo dropped it, and the sound of my breath catching in my throat. I glanced at my father’s hand, and as expected, it was a mess of blood and shattered bone.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I snapped.
Despite feeling slightly satisfied that someone was able to hurt my father and bring him and his ego crashing back down to earth, it still stirred something in me to see him broken and bleeding.
Lorenzo said nothing. He simply tore his gaze away from me and walked out, leaving a mess in his wake. I hated myself for watching him go, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop. It wasn’t until he was fully out of eyesight, and I heard my father’s hiss, that I turned my head.
“You should have known better,” I scoffed, reprimanding him for acting so careless. “You should’ve known he wouldn’t hesitate.”
My father looked up at me, his eyes wilder than before as he scoffed at my words. “I see it now. He wanted to use you to get to me. All he’ll ever do is use you, just like I did to get what I wanted.”
His words should have hurt. Fuck, they should have cut deep, but I felt nothing… Absolutely nothing. His words glided off me like water, and it felt good not to feel a damn thing. I was done being a pawn in their games. In anyone’s game.
I retrieved a knife from the table of tricks as my father swayed slightly from blood loss.
“You know, I used to look up to you, wanted to be like you. I basically wanted to be you.” I scoffed.
“But now, now I see I’m already better than you ever were, are, or will be, and that kills you inside because you already know that.
” I pressed the tip of my knife into the gunshot wound on his shoulder, his sharp inhale pleasing me.
“You may have all used me to get the upper hand in your game, but it ends now. For both of you.” I pushed the blade in deeper, watching as the blood soaked through to his shirt. “You can make your own way home.”
I threw the knife to the floor with a clatter before turning on my heel and disappearing into the cool evening air.
I was done.
Done with being a Fedorov.
Done with being a wife.
And done with being a fucking Ricci.