31. Elio
Chapter thirty-one
Elio
The tires screech against the roadside as Cortez jerks the wheel, narrowly avoiding an oncoming truck, but all I can focus on right now is the wet warmth spreading across my ribs. I had to call Cortez to pick me up since I was bleeding profusely.
I press my palm harder against the wound, but the blood keeps seeping through my fingers. My breaths come in short and sharp gasps.
“You okay?” Cortez whispers, his voice strained with tension.
“Just drive,” I grit out, staring at the road ahead, willing myself to stay conscious.
Pain claws up my side, but I can’t let it take me down. If anything happens to Karl Abruzzi, Aria will never forgive me. She already holds me responsible for her brother’s death. If she loses her father, too, especially since it’ll be connected to the mafia, an unending chasm of enmity would come between us.
Cortez slams on the brakes, and the moment we step out, the night erupts in chaos. Bullets tear through the air, sparking against the concrete. Two of our men drop instantly, blood blooming against their shirts as they crumple to the ground.
“Take cover!” I yell, diving behind the open car door?adrenaline taking over my body now. Cortez is already firing back, his gun barking over the chaos. I load a fresh magazine, my fingers slick with sweat and blood, then peek over the edge. Shadows flicker behind metal crates, gunfire flashing like lightning in the dark.
“We need to move!” Cortez shouts.
I nod, pushing through the pain. We run, our feet pounding behind us on the gravel floor. Bullets zip past, but we push forward, taking cover behind walls and parked vans outside the premises, returning fire with every step.
A man lunges from behind a car. I catch him in the throat with my elbow and spin his own gun against him, pulling the trigger. He drops dead and we press on.
The hangar doors are slightly ajar, revealing the converted living space inside. Two men guard the entrance. One raises his gun, but I reach him first. I slam his wrist aside, the shot going wide, then drive my fist into his gut. He doubles over, and I bring my knee up, smashing his nose. The second one lunges at me but I sidestep, catching his arm and twisting it until I hear the snap. He screams, but goes silent with a shot to the head from my gun.
“Go!” I grunt at Cortez with all my breath. “Take John and Federico and search inside. I’ll go around the back!”
Cortez nods, already moving. I grab three of our remaining men and push toward the back.
There’s no one there, so I give the signal for my men to proceed into the building through a door at the back.
The corridors are dimly lit, lined with crates and scattered furniture. The stench of sweat and gunpowder hangs thickly in the air, nauseating me. Two guards round the corner, taking me by surprise.
Instinctively, my gun reaches out towards them and I shoot the first in the chest, the second in the leg before finishing him off with a second shot.
A door at the end of the hall swings open. I raise my gun, but it’s Mallory. Her face is streaked with tears and dirt, her eyes wide with terror. She’s tied at the hands and gagged at the mouth. Only her legs are free.
I rush forward, cutting her free. “How many men are in there?”
She shakes her head.
A sharp yell echoes. Reflex spins me around immediately. A man stands in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of us. He turns and shouts, calling for backup.
I shove Mallory toward my men. “Get her out of here!”
Then they come.
Six men flood in from a door to my right, two guns raised while the others have their fists clenched. The first swings at me, I duck, but pain lances through my side as I twist. I ignore it, driving my fist into his ribs. Another comes at me from the left side. I take the hit, my vision flickering, but I manage to grab his collar and smash his head against the wall. Blood spatters.
A punch slams into my gut, knocking the air from my lungs. Another fist clips my jaw. I stagger, my grip on my gun loosening. One of the men tackles me, sending us both crashing to the ground. Hands claw at my throat, squeezing. I thrash, pain screaming through my body, but I plant my feet and push, flipping us over.
My fingers contact something sharp, and a cruel smile wraps itself around my lips as I grab a shard of glass from the ground and drive it into his neck. Hot blood spurts over my hands.
Three more left!
One aims his gun, but I’m faster. I lunge at him, knocking it aside. A shot goes off, grazing my arm. White-hot pain explodes, but I don’t stop. I slam my elbow into his temple, then grab his head and twist until I hear the crack in his neck. The next one gets a knee to the groin and a bullet to the skull.
The last man hesitates just a second too long. I seize the opportunity to fire. He drops with a full thud.
Breathing hard, I stagger toward the door on my right, which the six wasted men came in from. Just as I walk through, I see Karl, with his hands and feet tied, the only living person amidst all the dead bodies. His face looks untouched except for a busted lip. Relief washes over me as I cut his restraints. I can’t remember ever feeling so thankful for a cop’s survival.
“Come on,” I rasp, but before I can take a step, the world tilts. My knees buckle. Darkness rushes in, and the last thing I hear is Karl calling my name before everything goes black.
***
I’ve never been this restless. My arm and side are wrapped in bandages from last night, but that isn’t the cause of my restlessness.
Everything seems to be falling apart. And it’s driving me insane.
Every step I take around the length of my study adds to the frustration rising in my chest. My fingers rake through my hair as a gush of air forces itself from my nostrils. The last few days have been filled with pure chaos.
Aria has become a completely different person. I know she wants me to stay the hell away from her, but I just don’t know if I can, at least not with what she’s discovered.
My phone buzzes violently on the desk, rattling against the wooden surface. There’s no caller ID but a foreboding feeling seizes me just as I reach for the phone.
“Elio Donatelli.” The voice is unmistakable. Marcus Winston, the CEO of ‘Comfort Hotels’ and my number one rival. We detest each other and we don’t bother hiding it.
“You’ve got five seconds, Winston. Make them count.”
His voice crashes through the speaker as he roars with laughter. “I have to say, I’m fascinated… impressed, if I must say. The great businessman, the philanthropist, New York’s golden boy. And yet, under all that polish, you’re just a thug in a suit.”
My hands find support by gripping the edge of my desk. “Say what you called for, or I’ll hang up.”
He chuckles, slow and taunting. “Oh, but I’m telling the truth right now. You see, I always knew you were a fraud; no one can be as clean as you pretend to be, and now, I have proof of who the real Elio Donatelli is. A murderer…A criminal kingpin hiding in plain sight.”
Heat crawls up my spine, but my voice holds its calm. “Cut the theatrics, Marcus. You’ve exhausted your five seconds.”
“Ah, the bravado. It’s cute,” he sneers. “But here’s the deal, Donatelli. I have something that would turn your empire into rubble. Imagine the headlines: ‘Billionaire Hotelier Exposed as Mafia Ringleader.’ I wonder how your investors, or rather, my investors which you stole from me, would react.”
The grip around my phone tightens. “You don’t fucking have the balls, Winston.”
“Surprisingly, I do, and I also have a very interesting piece of footage. Why don’t you see for yourself?”
My phone chimes with a new message alert. I open it, and my stomach knots.
It’s the video footage of Bruno Moretti, collapsed on the ground, face bloodied, eyes wide with fear. I see myself come into the frame, gripping his hair, shoving the barrel of my gun deep into his mouth. He whimpers and I pull the trigger, his blood and brains spattering all around.
My pulse pounds in my ears like war drums. Heat flares through my chest, burning, suffocating and obstructing my air flow.
How the fuck did this bastard get this video? How the hell did he even know about Bruno Moretti and I?
My hand runs through my already disheveled hair, stopping to claw at the strands in confusion.
“Speechless now, Donatelli? I thought so.”
“How the fuck did you get this?”
A low chuckle fills my ears from the other end of the phone.
“Oh, those idiots called the Morettis. I’m so glad you helped me get rid of the nuisance. They really thought I’d keep my promise of investing in their stupid trafficking…”
“You planned this with the Morettis?”
“Of course, I planned all of it with the small mafia gang I found while searching for any dirt on you. Your warehouse scandal, which you brilliantly swept under the carpet, that was me. I asked Bruno Moretti to set up the abandoned building where you rendezvoused with a CCTV camera, hence the footage, and ta-da. Here we are. The unintelligent whistleblower, Mendez, or whatever you guys called him, and that Luis who worked for you…sad leverages.”
My teeth grind against my jaw, “You bastard!”
“Come off it, Donatelli, you’re no saint yourself…”
I slam the phone down so violently that the desk trembles. My hands tremble, too, not with fear, but with barely restrained fury. I want to rip through the screen, reach into the void, and wrap my hands around Marcus Winston’s smug throat until he stops breathing.
“Spit it out now. What do you want?”
“It’s a no-brainer, Elio. I used to be the top businessman in hotel chains in NY before you came along. My investors started seeing you as a better option, and many of them have been pulling out to invest in your new AI innovation. My profits are plunging. I want back what’s mine.”
I exhale sharply. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”
“No, you made the mistake, Elio. I just happened to capture it. Now, here’s what happens next. You transfer to me your entire share of that beautiful AI-powered hotel chain of yours. I’m going back to occupying the number one spot in the hotel and entertainment scene where you pushed me off from, and you’re going to help me get back up there by returning all my investors, and your stocks, to me.”
A scoff escapes my lips but he doesn’t let me say a word.
“By the way, Donatelli, there will be no discussions or negotiations. You have seven days. If I don’t have the papers by then, the world sees this video.”
“Was it also you who raised dust about Frank Paterson?"
“What…No, no. It seems you have other troubles besides me, Donatelli. I’m a businessman. I only do what’s absolutely necessary to save my business.”
My fingers dig into the desk. Every muscle in my body coils tightly, my mind racing with violent possibilities. My blood boils with the need for destruction.
“I’ll see you, Donatelli.” The line clicks dead.
“Fuck!” I stare at my phone, chest heaving.
This bastard just signed his own death warrant.