Salvatore

46. Ivy

46

IVY

I ease the stolen Camaro toward the white metal gates of my late uncle’s sprawling estate, beyond the city limits of Baltimore.

Guards approach, guns raised. Four of them. No , five.

“Get out of the car,” one barks, his pistol aimed between my eyes.

I kill the engine, grip the wheel for a reassuring second, then push the door open and climb out.

A light breeze snakes through my hair as the men close in. The first grabs my shoulder and slams me into the hood. His hands roam, rough and unyielding—ankles, thighs, waist—before sliding between my breasts to linger too long.

“If you’re looking for trouble, you’re getting warmer,” I sneer, wishing Sarah’s gun had been an optional accessory.

“I will look until I’m satisfied.” He spreads my legs wider, trekking rough hands behind the back of my knees. “Your father is waiting.” Then he yanks me around to face him and jabs his pistol toward my chest. “Start walking.”

At one time, the gun would’ve terrified me. Now, I hold my chin high, at peace with my fate, knowing fear is the last weapon they have—and I won’t let them wield it.

I’m marched through the gates onto a property I once thought was beautiful. The manicured gardens are the same, the large sandstone mansion overlooking vast acres of land still castle-esque.

But now I see the horror it hides. Hear the whispers of souls that have been left here to die.

“Move faster.” The guard grabs my arm.

I rip free and jab my elbow into his stomach. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

He hunches over with a look of stunned silence… then rage. “ You fucking bitch .”

“Andreas, no.” Gabriel’s voice cuts sharp across the yard. “ Déjala tener esta victoria. Será la última que tenga. ”

I turn my glare to the man who created me, standing a few feet away at the corner of the mansion, watching like a king surveying his domain after so eloquently telling his employee to let me have this win because it will be my last.

“You were meant to be sent to the men waiting at my city apartment.” His smirk is subtle. “But having you here is a pleasure, too.”

I cling to my composure, suppressing the riotous drum of my pulse. “Take me to Salvatore.”

Gabriel raises a brow, mocking. “Why? Are you worried for him, hija ?”

“I’m worried for my mother, my aunts, and my female cousins who didn’t sign up for this. You’ve dragged them into a war none of you will survive.”

“Your fear for them is surprising, seeing as though you gave up on your family long ago.”

“I didn’t give up on my family. I gave up on you.”

His lips thin, his control slipping for a fraction of a second before he shoves the mask back into place with a faux smile. “You test me, Isabella. Have you forgotten I bite?”

“Then bite.” I hold my ground. “I’m done flinching.”

He won’t spare me even if I grace him with good manners. But if this is my last day on earth, I’m going to shake this mortal coil with him knowing exactly how much I hate him.

He chuckles. “I think I might test that theory.”

He leads me around the house, two armed guards tailing behind us. Not six. Not four. Just two.

My uncle used to have an army. Now, the yard is a ghost town.

“I have done well for myself, have I not?” Gabriel gestures toward the mansion.

I scan the balcony. The guards I expect to see are nonexistent. “Isn’t that an odd thing to say when everything you have was only gained from your brother’s death?”

His grip snaps around the crook of my arm as he leans toward my ear. “You will do best to curb your insolence, Isabella. I’ve learned the fastest ways to make little girls behave.”

I steel my spine, letting the horror wash through me, not allowing one drop to settle. “That’s not my name.”

“Yes, it is.”

He releases me, taking me across the pebbled courtyard, each step feeding the dread mass-producing in my gut. The bunker looms ahead, half-hidden in the shade of an oak, a black hole waiting to swallow me whole.

The closer we get, the more suffocating the air becomes, until we’re there—standing at the top of the stairs, staring at darkness below.

I pause, my pulse riotous. “Is he still alive?”

Gabriel spares me a grin. “We’ll soon see.”

He descends in silence, the temperature dropping as I follow. At the bottom, he stops before the heavy metal doors, reaches for the ornate handle, and pulls one open with a creak of rusted hinges.

“After you.” He waves me inside, his gaze locked on mine, waiting for a slip—a tremor, a flinch, anything he can sink his teeth into.

I give him nothing.

I keep my composure intact and look into the brightly lit room, past another two armed guards, to my brother standing at the far side next to Salvatore—chained to the wall, bloodied, bruised, his head hanging limp while a knife protrudes from his chest.

My breath catches.

My insides revolt.

It’s as if my heart is being ripped out of its cavity while I fight to remain unshaken. Unbroken .

“Everything okay, mi amor ?” Gabriel taunts.

I can’t speak. If I do a sob will escape.

“Tell me—” Gabriel places a hand at the small of my back, forcing me to move inside “—how were you treated in this man’s care?”

My eyes burn as I remember the ways I was adored beyond measure, treasured like a crown jewel, and protected with a desperation that defied logic.

“I was stabbed.” I raise my left arm, showing the healing wounds. “ Multiple times.”

Salvatore raises his head, his sweat-slicked hair framing hooded, bloodshot eyes as our gazes lock. “We gave her the full welcome-to-the-mafia package,” he wheezes through crimson-stained teeth.

“Shut your goddamn mouth.” Alonso’s backhand slams across Salvatore’s face, making him sway in his restraints.

I press my lips tight, stopping a scream from escaping.

“Tell me, Isabella,” Gabriel purrs. “Did this poor excuse for a man touch you?”

Salvatore’s eyes narrow, one wrist tugging at his shackles while the other arm hangs at a sickening angle. “I didn’t touch the whore.”

The slur hurts, not from offense but because even now, even in this state, he’s still fighting for me.

I can’t take it.

I want to run to him. To hold him. Kiss him. Make this all disappear.

Gabriel moves in front of me, blocking my view. “Are the rumors true? Do you carry his child?”

I fix him with a glare fueled with a lifetime of loathing. “It’s a little late to start caring about me being sexually assaulted, especially since you planned to profit from my suffering in the same way.”

He rolls his eyes. “That was merely hollow intimidation.”

“Your men didn’t think so. José was determined to be the first to do your bidding the night he died.”

Gabriel’s features harden. “You lie.”

“Ask Alonso. And while you’re at it, you two should discuss what he was happy to stand by and watch José do to me in the bathroom days prior.” I square up to him. “You’ve turned your son into a monster.”

He leans closer, matching my defiance. “And what will you allow me to turn yours into?”

Terror trickles down my spine.

“There is no fucking child,” Salvatore snaps. “It was a false medical report. How many times do you need to be told?”

Gabriel’s mouth curls at the edges, his amusement returning while he holds my gaze. “He protests too much, don’t you think?”

“Far too fucking much,” Alonso agrees.

“ He is the only chance you have of staying alive.” I articulate slowly. Calmly. “That’s why I’m here. His brothers sent me to negotiate. Your lives for Salvatore’s.”

“ Fuck them .” Alonso storms toward me. “And fuck you. This asshole and his brothers have decimated our family. How can you negotiate when they killed our uncle and Miguel?”

“Maybe because our uncle and Miguel belong in hell.”

I don’t have time to brace before Alonso’s hand whips out, slapping across my cheek in a brutal arc.

The impact sends me stumbling, the punishing burn spreading across the entire left side of my face.

Salvatore roars, his shackles clattering as he fights for freedom. But it’s not the pain that cuts deepest. It’s the humiliation—the reminder of my weakness against full-grown men.

“Now, now, children. Play nice.” Gabriel places a hand on my brother’s chest, forcing distance between us as he grins. “We’re upsetting our guest. He seems quite affected by your treatment, wouldn’t you say?”

I raise a soothing palm to my throbbing cheek. “Silly men and their soft spots for women being treated humanely. Isn’t it annoyingly progressive?”

“What it is,” Gabriel drawls, “is a blinding sign that you’re valuable to him. What have you become to this man, Isabella?”

“My name is Ivy,” I sneer. “And what I mean to him is a ticket home. Just like what I currently mean to you is the ability to stay alive, considering you murdered Lorenzo Cappelletti.”

“We can survive on our own,” Alonso huffs.

“No, you can’t. There’s no co-existing in Balti?—”

“We already know this,” Gabriel speaks over me. “That’s why we’re returning to mi tierra .”

I stiffen.

Mi tierra? My land? Meaning Mexico?

The slightest flicker of hope sparks in my chest. “You’re leaving?”

“ We’re leaving,” he corrects. “Your mother and your aunts have already made their way across the border. They’re excited for you to meet them there.”

The spark dies before it can ignite. But Gabriel voluntarily leaving my life was a stupid thing to hope for anyway. I should’ve known better. “Then I look forward to seeing them.”

He cocks a brow. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I’ll go to Mexico,” I concede. Gabriel has struggled to keep me contained before. Hopefully he’ll struggle again. “But you still need to return Salvatore to his family. They’ll follow us if you don’t. And I don’t want to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”

Gabriel turns to his prisoner, allowing me an unobstructed view of Salvatore whose breathing grows more labored, his body a beaten mess held together by nothing but pride and determination.

“What do you think, Mr. Costa?” Gabriel asks, his voice cool, almost bored. “Do you think your brothers will let us stay if we release you?”

“I’d rather die,” Alonso growls.

Salvatore bares his teeth, nostrils flared. “And you will, with or without me here to see it through.”

“Stop it,” I warn them. “There’s no need for anyone else to die.”

“She’s right.” Gabriel concedes with a calculating gleam in his eyes. “As long as you can prove we’re not about to traffic precious mafia cargo with us to Mexico.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a small pharmacy box. “Take one of these now and another in twenty-four hours. Then I will agree to release him.”

The hollow pit in my chest spreads. “What are they?”

He pulls out two encapsulated tablets and pushes one from its compartment, the crinkling plastic loud in the almost empty bunker. “Abortion pills.”

I stop breathing.

“You’re a sick fucking son of a bitch.” Salvatore struggles through the words. “If I were you, I’d quit wasting time on her imaginary kid and figure out what you’re going to do when my brothers arrive.”

“If the child is imaginary, then these won’t matter, will they?” Gabriel holds out the pill to me.

I stare at his palm, unable to look away as my pulse trips violently.

I’m sure I could live with the loss of a fetus. It’s only been a few weeks. It’s barely a life at all… so why does it feel like a part of my soul is being ripped out of me?

“Ivy,” Salvatore warns, voice strained.

I can’t look at him. Can’t meet the brutality that will stare back at me.

He wanted this baby from the moment he knew it existed. No hesitation. No doubts.

“ Ivy .” This time it’s a demand, guttural and raw.

“Take it.” Gabriel inches his hand closer, acting as if I have a choice.

“No. Salvatore has a knife protruding from his ribs. He won’t last twenty-four hours.” My words are weak. “Release him now, and I can prove I’m not pregnant with a pregnancy test.”

Maybe if I buy some time—a few minutes, a few hours…

“I’m done humoring you.” Gabriel grabs me around the neck, his fingers digging in as he raises the pill to my mouth. “Take it.”

I attempt to yank away. “No.”

“You will take it.” He fists my hair, jerking my head back. “Hold her,” he orders my brother as he digs vicious fingers into my jaw, forcing my mouth open.

“ Stop ,” I wail, thrash, my wrists captured by Alonso, his punishing fingers wrenching my arms behind my back.

“ No ,” Salvatore roars, his rage booming off the walls, his chains rattling. “ I’ll fucking kill you. ”

“His anger is proof enough for me,” Gabriel sneers in my face, forcing my mouth wider, shoving the pill inside. “You’re my greatest disappointment, Isabella.”

I try to shake my head. To free my arms. But he forces the pill farther, past my tongue, down my throat.

I gag, choking while his fingers remain embedded. Retching. Gasping for air. I struggle through seconds of suffocation as Salvatore’s anger rings in my ears. Then I’m released, left to fall to my knees in a limp heap, my chin covered in saliva, my eyes blazing.

“Keep the pill down or we do this again.” Gabriel steps back, staring down at me.

I look away. Scrunch my nose. Sniff.

I want this to be over. For Salvatore’s suffering to end. For mine, too.

“ Mi reina ,” Salvatore croaks. “Look at me.”

“ Mi reina ?” Gabriel cackles. “Why am I not surpri?—”

A blast rocks the bunker, the force knocking me onto all fours as debris hurtles through the air.

I clamp my eyes shut, throwing my arms over my head as gunfire erupts outside.

“ Go ,” Gabriel shouts. “Help the men manning the gates.”

Boots pound the ground, a thunderous staccato echoing through the bunker.

I blink the grit from my eyes, clearing my vision in time to see Gabriel stalk from the cloudy room.

My brother is gone. The guards, too.

“Ivy, you need to hide.” Salvatore’s voice cuts through the static ringing in my ears. “Find someplace safe until my brothers can get to you.”

I crawl across the debris-littered floor, battling vertigo as I inch toward him.

“Can you hear me?” He wheezes, insistent but weak.

I climb to my knees, my feet, the gunfire closing in.

“ Leave ,” he orders. “ Hide .”

I stumble toward him, resolve solidifying my steps.

“Goddamnit, mi reina, ” he snarls through gritted teeth. “Get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving.” I press myself against him, mindful of the knife buried between his ribs as I shield him with my body. “It’s my turn to protect you.”

“Ivy—”

Another blast shakes the ground, bringing a secondary shockwave of debris.

I cling to him, wrapping my arms around his head. “And if I can’t protect you, then let us die together.” I cup the back of his head, nuzzling my face into his neck as the gunfire grows deafening. “All three of us—you, me, and our child.”

“Don’t do this.” His voice is so thin. So frail. “You can save?—”

“I love you,” I cut him off, pulling back to meet his gaze while grit peppers my vision. “I fell for you the moment our lips brushed.”

“Because I was made for you.”

I nod, pressing my lips shut to fight a sob.

“Don’t worry, mi reina .” He brushes his mouth over mine, his breaths rattling in his lungs. “I’m happy to endure an afterlife missing you for the privilege of having been able to love you.”

“No.” I sniff back emotion. “You’re not going anywhere, ninito. ”

His lips curve, the tired smirk breaking my heart until the sound of approaching footfalls steals it away.

I twist toward the door as it flies open.

My brother stands there, gun in hand, eyes filled with rage. “They killed our father.” He storms toward us, hellbent. “And now I’ll kill you.”

I whip back to Salvatore, ready to die, but so fucking scared at the same time.

“Take the knife,” he orders under his breath.

I recoil, my pulse faltering. “No. It’s stemming the bleeding?—”

“Take it.” His jaw clenches. “Do it for me. Don’t make me watch him hurt you.”

“I can’t,” I whisper.

Alonso closes in, the thunderous footsteps right behind me.

“Ivy, please ,” Salvatore begs. “Let me save you one last time.”

Adrenaline pounds in my temples, my desire to please him warring with the devastation his request will bring.

“Do it,” he croaks, ashen.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, puta .” Alonso grabs my shoulder, yanking me backward.

“ Do it ,” Salvatore roars.

I gasp, unable to tear my gaze from his as I reach out, my hand coasting over the knife, my fingers tightening on the hilt.

I watch in horror as pain pinches Salvatore’s features, the devastation quickly replaced with soul-shattering pride.

“Live,” is his only command as I’m swung around to face my brother.

But living isn’t enough.

I scream my heartache, the war cry bubbling up from my lungs as I charge, rushing Alonso, my shoulder slamming into his chest while I plunge the knife into his stomach.

He stumbles backward, mouth agape.

We both take a beat to acclimatize to the gravity of my actions, but he’s faster to bounce back, his fist slamming into my face to send me toppling.

I see black for a second, my world re-righting in pain and confusion as his hands circle my neck, hauling me back to my feet.

“I should’ve killed you years ago.” He releases a hand, cocking another fist.

Then something blindsides my periphery. Someone . The flash of movement hits Alonso in the temple. He nose-dives to the floor, unconscious as I sway, only to be grounded by an arm around my waist.

“You good?” Hunter steadies me, his free hand holding a gun aimed at my brother’s head.

“ Wait .” I scramble from his arm. “I need the key to Salvatore’s restraints.”

I collapse onto my knees and start searching Alonso’s pockets.

“Move back and I can assist.” Hunter jerks his chin for me to retreat, barely waiting a beat for me to inch away before he adjusts his aim and pulls the trigger, the sound deafening.

Alonso jackknifes back to consciousness with a wail.

“The key,” Hunter demands. “Where is it?”

Alonso rolls onto his side, clutching his leg as he howls.

“The key .” Hunter shoots again, nailing Alonso in the thigh. “Or I’ll stop asking nicely.”

Alonso screams, his body contorting. “My pocket. It’s in my fucking jeans pocket.”

Hunter swoops in, retrieving the glistening piece of metal as Decker jogs into the bunker.

“Handle him.” Hunter orders his tattooed counterpart and strides for Salvatore.

“ No ,” Alonso demands. “If you kill me the cartel will riot.”

Decker grins at me, aiming his gun between my brother’s eyes. “This is the fun part, but you should probably look away.”

I turn my head toward Salvatore, slapping my hands to my ears a second before the gunshot blasts through the room.

Salvatore winces with me, the weakest, saddest smile tilting his lips. “I’m proud of you, troublemaker.”

“What about me?” Hunter grates, inserting the key into one of the shackles.

I tense, anticipating Salvatore’s cry of pain as his dislocated arm flops to his side, but all he musters is a groan, his weight collapsing back into the wall.

“A little help here,” Hunter mutters.

I rush toward him but Decker beats me to it. “He’s talking to me, tiger.” He braces Salvatore around the chest while Hunter works on the remaining shackle.

“Remember me, mi bella reina .” Salvatore’s eyes find mine, his lashes barely lifting between blinks.

“Don’t talk like that.” My voice breaks. “Not now. You need to keep fighting.”

He tilts his face to Decker. “Take care of her.”

“Don’t worry.” Decker winks. “If you don’t do as she asks, I’ll make sure someone takes real good care of her.”

Salvatore cringes. “Asshole.”

Decker snickers. “That’s the spirit. Keep it up until we can get you to a doctor.”

But there’s no fight left. Salvatore’s eyes roll. His head lolls.

“ Salvatore .” I struggle to get between the two men holding him up. “ Salvatore , stay with me.”

More footsteps approach. Rushed. Turbulent.

Remy and Matthew burst into the bunker. Bishop and Cole are a beat behind them. They stop in the doorway, faces slackening, suits wrinkled, guns idle at their sides.

“Help him,” I cry.

“ Fuck .” Remy runs for us, Matthew and Bishop hot on his heels.

“Is he still breathing?” Cole asks, pulling out his phone.

I’m about to say yes when Decker speaks. “Not anymore.”

“ What? ” I turn back to Salvatore, his body slack, his eyes closed.

Hunter and Decker drag him away from me, placing him on the floor. Limp. Lifeless.

“ Do something ,” I beg.

Remy falls to his knees beside his brother, placing two fingers to Salvatore’s neck before looking up at Matthew. “There’s no pulse.”