Salvatore

43. Salvatore

43

SALVATORE

I move to Ivy’s side, typing a text to the building manager. “I’ll have this place put on lockdown.”

Lorenzo pushes to his feet, moving to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city below. “There will be bloodshed, figlio . And loss.” There’s resignation in his voice. “You need to prepare yourself.”

Ivy stares up at me. “What’s happening?”

“We’re under attack.” I glide a soothing hand over her back and type another message, the blanket text sent to everyone of importance, only one word necessary.

Salvatore

Red.

“The cartel are either desperate to make the first move or New York sent reinforcements.” I pocket my cell and palm her cheek. “But we’re stronger regardless. You don’t need to worry.”

She swallows, her face leaning in to my touch.

“It won’t be easy.” Lorenzo stares down at the streets below. “We have more to lose. But I have faith in you, Salvatore. I know you will make me proud.”

The praise lands like a punch, but not the bruising kind—one that knocks the breath from my lungs to leave me reeling with something I don’t know how to hold.

I haven’t heard those words before. Not directed at me anyway.

My father didn’t give praise. My mother thrived on criticism.

I’m about to mutter an awkward response when a hollow tink splits the air.

I frown. Ivy flinches. There’s a half-second of silence—then the window before Lorenzo shatters, cascading to the carpet in a chaotic sheet of jagged shards.

“ Get down .” I drag Ivy to the floor, shielding her with my body as wind howls through the room, whipping her hair about her face. “Are you hurt?” I scan her from head to toe, running frantic hands over her limbs.

“No. I’m good.” She gives a frenzied shake of her head.

“Lorenzo?” I glance over my shoulder, finding my uncle shell-shocked, a hand grasping the side of his neck as he teeters on his feet.

“ Shit . Stay down,” I order Ivy and rush to him. “How bad is it?”

He drops to his knees, eyes stark, face pale, blood oozing around the fingers clasped to his neck.

I go down with him, catching him before he collapses on all fours. “Let me see.” I tug at his wrist, his palm peeling from his skin to reveal a small, perfectly circular hole leaking claret.

Fuck .

I lean around him, finding the exit wound two inches behind—jagged and weeping. “It’s through and through, old man. Barely a graze on the outside of your neck.” I shove his hand back in place, pressing hard. “Not even close to your jugular. You’ll be fine.”

He’s not going to be fine. He’ll be fucking dead if he doesn’t get stitched up soon.

I grab my cell, drop it to the carpet, and kick it toward Ivy. “Go to my contacts. Find the details for Lorenzo’s Baltimore Doc.”

“He’s out of town,” Lorenzo croaks.

Fuck. Fuck.

I shrug off my jacket while he sways on his knees. “Then I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No. We don’t do hospitals.”

I screw my jacket into a ball and force it under his hand, hoping to stem the blood flow. “Given I’m now head of this family, I’m changing the rules.” I shoot Ivy a glance, her terror-filled stare and shaking hands stripping me bare. “Call an ambulance.”

“No.” Lorenzo clamps a hand on my shoulder, his face twisting as he tries to clear his throat through gritted teeth. A wet, ragged sound follows, his body shuddering with the effort.

“Give me permission to call a fucking ambulance.” I hold tighter to his arms, unwilling to defy him as he leans into me.

He shakes his head, swallowing hard, then coughs again—harsher this time, his chest bucking with the force. The struggle lasts a beat too long before the thin press of his lips gives way and a spray of blood splatters down his chin.

What the fuck?

The bullet wound isn’t close enough to have punctured his jugular. Where’s the blood coming from?

“Were you hit twice?” I demand.

He continues to choke, the carnage dripping down to the carpet.

I scan his body, yanking at the lapels of his suit jacket, exposing the dark red stain seeping across the chest of his white button-down.

No.

He careens forward, losing balance.

“Salvatore,” Ivy cries. “What do I do?”

“Stay down.” I raise my voice over the wind. “Hide under the desk.”

I catch Lorenzo’s weight, guiding him to lie back on the carpet.

“Save… your child.” He wheezes, squeezing my wrist. “Tell… my sons…”

“ Sons ?” I tug at his buttons and reef open his shirt, finding a bullet hole near his sternum. “What fucking sons?”

His mouth forms words with no sound as blood splutters his lips.

“Lorenzo? What sons?” I order, willing him to keep talking to me, to keep fucking fighting.

“Salvatore, please ,” Ivy begs. “Move away from the window.”

I blink through the adrenaline, the fear, the rage, and glance at Ivy hiding beneath Lorenzo’s desk.

“I don’t want you to get shot.” Her eyes implore me more than the torment in her voice. “ Please .”

I cut my attention to the overcast sky. There’s no neighboring buildings in sight from down here on the floor. No potential risk. “They can’t see me.”

I return my focus to Lorenzo, to dark eyes now staring unfixed at the ceiling.

The world falls quiet.

My throat threatens to close over. “Lorenzo?”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

“ Lorenzo .” I shake his shoulders.

There’s nothing. No reaction. No response.

“Is he dead?” Ivy’s soft sniffle cuts through the static, dragging me back into the moment. “God, Salvatore, what have they done?”

I close my eyes a beat. A pained acknowledgement. A silent farewell. Then I scramble across the floor to her. “I need to get you out of here.”

“There’s nowhere we can go. They’ll kill me.”

I grab my cell from her trembling hands and dial Remy’s number. There’s no answer. I dial Matthew’s next and get the same response.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Tell me what to do?” she begs.

I type a message to my brothers.

Salvatore

Code black. Need you here ASAP.

Next is the building manager, who hasn’t acknowledged my earlier message.

Salvatore

Tell me you have this place on lockdown.

The three dots of his impending reply pop up on screen as gunshots carry from outside the penthouse.

Ivy’s wide eyes lock on mine, her terror cutting me deep.

“It’s going to be okay.” I swipe my blood-stained hands on my pants, fighting the tremor in my fingers. “Trust me.”

Her attention snaps toward the hall, her breaths increasing.

“Lorenzo’s guards are out there. They’ll handle the threat.” I grab her chin, forcing her gaze back to mine. “You’re going to listen to me, okay?” My pulse pounds everywhere—ears, temples, throat. “I’ll protect you with my life.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Her voice breaks. “You can’t die on me, Salvatore. Please. ”

“Lorenzo has a panic room.” I guide her to her feet, keeping her head low as we cross the office. “I need you to stay there until this blows over.”

I steer her toward the bookcase in the corner, my fingers reaching for the second shelf and the worn spine of a leather-bound ledger slightly out of sync with the hardback fiction titles surrounding it. I tug it forward and the entire case jolts with a soft hiss, sliding aside to reveal the reinforced steel door behind it. “Nobody can get to you once you’re inside.”

She stares at me as I enter the PIN code into the control panel. “Will you stay with me?”

“No, but I’ll come get you as soon as I can.” I grasp the back of her neck as the reinforced door slides open and smash my mouth to hers, stealing a kiss that tastes like forever but feels like the end.

She clings to me, her sob echoing against my lips as more gunfire carries from outside. “I don’t want to be in there without you.”

“There are monitors inside. If anyone gets into the apartment you’ll see.” I pull back, peeling her hands off of me with gentle fingers. “Don’t come out unless you know it’s safe.”

“Wait.” She grabs for me, frantic, desperate. “What happens if there are too many of them?”

“Don’t come out until you know it’s safe,” I repeat.

“No. That’s not what I mean. What happens to you ?”

My heart drops like a body off a rooftop—sudden, violent, and impossible to stop. “Then know that falling for you wasn’t a choice, mi reina . It was an instinct. I had no will to stop it and no desire to.”

She whimpers. “We can both hide in here. Please , Salvatore. I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose?—”

“ Please .” Her eyes fill with tears. “I love you.”

Her words are a benediction and a curse, tearing me open and stitching me back together. “Then say you’ll marry me. Give me one more thing to fight for.”

“I will.” She nods. “I promise. Just don’t let them take you from me.”

Her acquiescence isn’t the victory I’d thought it would be. I’d expected a sense of invincibility. Even euphoria. But the opposite consumes me, the weight of everything I could lose threatening to choke the breath from my lungs.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I grasp her hands in mine. “I’m going to stay in the penthouse. All I’m doing is checking on Lorenzo’s guards. I bet they’ve got this all under control.”

“Don’t make me raise this child on my own, Salvatore.”

Another sucker punch hits me fair in the throat. “I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you.”

Her lower lip trembles as I retreat, pressing the button on the wall.

I get a brief second to watch her expression crumple to devastation while she releases a guttural sob, then the door slides shut between us with a finality that feels like a death sentence.

My heart is a fist in my chest, slamming against my ribs.

I can’t fucking leave her. Not like this.

But more gunshots echo from outside Lorenzo’s front door, and I can’t afford to fall into weakness.

I shove the leather-bound ledger back into place, the bookcase sliding into position with a mechanical hiss as I palm my gun and stride for the hall. I’m barely a few feet from the open living area when a sharp crack splits the air, followed by the thud of the front door crashing open.

I sprint down the hall and squeeze my trigger on the men rushing in, Ivy’s brother the last of five intruders to dive behind the nearest sofa.

I skid on my knees into the kitchen, taking cover behind the island as they return fire, their bullets smashing through glass cabinets and thwacking into plaster.

“Where is she?” Alonso shouts.

“Where’s who?” I level my gun above the counter and start eating through my weapon’s magazine.

A male cry rings out before anarchic rounds slam back, punching the fridge, ricocheting off the stove.

Alonso laughs. “Come on, pendejo. Don’t insult me.”

“She’s not here, asshole.”

“Nice try, but my men saw her get off the helicopter with you.”

Boots scuffle forward. I take aim around the corner of the island, narrowly missing the two motherfuckers as they fan out.

“Did you also see a guard take her away once we arrived in the parking garage?” I creep around the counter, eyes tracking one of them as they edge nearer.

I squeeze the trigger. A single bullet. Right through the side of his skull.

He drops like dead weight, gun clattering to the floor.

“It’s a big fucking building, cucaracha .” I shift position, keeping low. “I suggest you pick a floor and start searching. Or better yet, maybe check the underground tunnel that leads to the apartment complex next door. I think you’ll find she’s long gone.”

“ Bullshit .”

I check my magazine. Twelve rounds left. “You expect Gabriel’s daughter would be welcomed into Lorenzo’s penthouse?”

“I think she would—if pregnant.” Alonso peeks up from the sofa, firing a shot that thunks into the stone counter a few inches above my head before disappearing again. “Tell me, Salvatore, is that poor excuse for a child yours?”

I’m tempted to tell him. To brag about my achievement. But Ivy’s right. It’ll only make her and the baby more of a target. “I’m not surprised you bought that fake medical report.”

Movement sounds to my left. I pivot and fire blind shots.

“Was it fake though?” He’s on the move. Approaching. “One of Lorenzo’s guards already told us?—”

I open fire toward his voice. Pop. Pop. Pop . More footsteps carry from the others. They’re closing in.

I scramble to reposition, pushing myself onto my knees, searching for a better angle. As I shift, a bullet rips through the outside of my thigh.

Motherfucker.

I grit my teeth, dragging myself farther around the island.

Bullets slam into the counter, right above my head, the kitchen a storm of flying shrapnel and plaster dust.

I’m as good as cooked, fucking done, but so goddamn desperate not to fail Ivy.

I wait for the chaos to pause, then shoot back as I snatch my cell from my pants pocket, typing another message to my brothers.

Salvatore

Save Ivy and my child. If anything happens to them I’ll fucking haunt you.

The footsteps get louder. Closer.

I swing around the other side of the island. Find a target. Pull the trigger. Get a hollow click.

Shit.

“Sounds like you’re out of bullets.” The asshole smirks.

I scramble toward the kitchen drawers, leaving a bloody trail behind me as I snatch a knife, the footfalls rushing forward.

I spin and launch at the guy, slamming him into the cupboards, sinking the blade into his neck over and over. I’m about to turn and haul his body in front of me as a human shield when the barrel of a gun presses to the back of my head.

“Give me an excuse to pull the trigger,” Alonso drawls, making my blood run cold. “I promise it will be a quicker death than what my father has planned for you.”

I still, the sickening creep of dread climbing up my throat. I stare at the chipped and skewed cupboards, imagining what Ivy must be seeing, feeling nothing but the fucking brutal realization that my time has come to an end mere weeks after finding a reason to live.

Alonso leans in, the putrid stench of body odor and tobacco emanating from him. “Say good night, puta .”