48. ANTONIO
"No leads?" My voice is edged with hardness as I stare at Marcello's seemingly lifeless body on the hospital bed hooked up to cords, IVs, and machines. Lights flicker on the monitors, giving readouts of his heart rate, oxygen levels, brain activity, the whole nine yards.
One leg is elevated. Luciano, Marcello's right-hand man, said he got shot twice in that leg and hip as well as his shoulder.
Most worrisome is the bullet that grazed his head enough to take out a chunk of his skull and make his brain swell.
That's why the doctors are keeping him in an artificial coma.
Luciano sits in an armchair in a corner, trying hard to appear relaxed, but I can see his tight muscles. He's primed to attack me if he thinks I pose a threat to his boss. I grin. I do admire loyalty.
"Nothing that I know of. Mr. Orsi took over," he grunts in disapproval. For a second, I think he'll spit on the floor to emphasize his disgust, but he thinks better of it when a pretty blonde nurse enters. Luciano perks visibly at the sight.
"The night nurse was a nightmare," Luciano complains to her.
He visibly deflates when she ignores him and checks the computer by the foot of Marcello's bed.
She moves to adjust the IV, still ignoring Luciano and me, until he breaks the silence again. "So, we're not talking this morning?" He holds out a cup of coffee for her.
"You can't buy me with that." She snarls at him.
"I'm not trying to buy you," he assures her. "I do want you to be high functioning, though."
I don’t have time for their little lovers’ spat, but before I can say anything, one of the machines Marcello is hooked up to begins to beep, causing the nurse to move over to his bedside.
She turns something off and fiddles with his head bandages, but that's not what gets me distracted.
It's the way she looks at him, with a slight smile that makes her look stunning.
The way she looks at Marcello doesn't escape me.
I've been in hospitals before. I know what it looks like when a nurse is interested in me—when she wants to be bent over the nearest surface. This look isn’t that.
This is something deeper and personal. Interesting.
The motherfucker is still attractive to women even when he's out of it and all banged up.
"Keep me updated if you hear anything," I tell Luciano.
"I'd appreciate the same courtesy. I have a feeling I'll hear from you before I hear from Mister Orsi."
I send a stiff nod at him before I leave the room and make my way back down into the lobby.
I step out of the way of a woman holding a newborn in her arms, who is being wheeled to the exit.
Her image changes to Scarlet's in my mind, and a warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through me.
I pull out my phone to call Doc Brown; he's had more than enough time to play with her blood.
He should know by now if I'm going to be a dad or not.
It pisses me off that he'll know before I do…
as if he'd sensed my impatience, my phone vibrates in my hand, flashing his name across the screen.
"Doc, tell me what I want to hear." I hardly recognize my exuberant voice and just know that an idiotic grin is spread across my face. At the same time, I nearly crush the phone in my death grip of anticipation.
"She’s pregnant. Congrats. You’re reproducing. God help us all.” His gruffy voice hits me. “Your next little criminal mastermind is on the way. Hope you’re ready to be outsmarted by someone under ten pounds.”
My fist strikes air as I punch it over my head, "Yes!"
"You sound pleased," Doc deadpans.
"Of course I am," I shake my head as adrenaline spikes through my body. But this adrenaline is of a different kind. It's warm and pleasant. I'm going to be a dad , my mind keeps echoing.
"Well, I'm happy for you, son," Doc remarks in a softer tone.
"Careful, Doc, I might start thinking you like me," I warn.
He laughs, but before he can hang up, I pepper him with more questions. "So, what's next? Ultrasound? What meds do we need? Vitamins? I want to see my baby every day." An idea strikes me. “Get me the best ultrasound there is and have it installed in the house."
His sigh is loud and hurts my ear. "Toni, slow down. You might want to run all that through the missus first."
He's right. Of course I should. But fuck! I'm going to be a dad.
After a few minutes of discussing ultrasounds, appointments, prenatal vitamins, and other related topics, Vito interrupts our call. I cut the doctor short and listen to my friend tell me I need to get back to the office.
I quell the little fires Vito thought I needed to personally put out, then decide to take a minute to call Scarlet. For the second time today, the moment I pull my phone out, the person I'm about to call is on the other line.
"Hey, I was just—" I don’t have the chance to finish the sentence.
"We're in trouble," she cries out, turning my heart and blood ice cold.
"Where are you?" I push out, grabbing my jacket and motioning for Vito to pull out his phone and follow me to the elevator. Thank fuck I had already ordered the chopper ready. I was ready to go home and tell Scarlet the good news. Tell her that she was about to become a mom.
"Warwick." Scarlet lets out a hiss. I hear the sound of something fastening. I don't have time to ask her why the fuck she’s in Warwick, or what she was thinking. There will be time for that later.
"Fuck! Stay on the phone. Vito," I yell at him. "Call Al!" I say more quietly.
"Toni, they have some kind of bazooka or something," Gigi's voice rings out, freezing my blood. "I'm trying to lose them and get back to the house."
"They're going to anticipate that." Fuck, I can't think about the two women who mean more to me than anything in this world.
Or my as-of-yet unborn son. I need to keep it together if I want to see them again.
If I want to ever meet my son. Or daughter.
"Vito, have Al send cars out. Now! All of them. "
I'm glad I beefed up security yesterday. After what happened to Enrico, there was no way in hell that I would leave my wife and baby home alone, protected by less than an army.
I watch Vito talk rapidly on his phone while we're running toward the elevator.
"Shit," Gigi yells, stopping my heart.
"We're on our way, but we're in the city," I tell the girls.
The sound of brakes stops my breath. I hit the damn elevator button over and over. Where the fuck is it?
"We're trapped," Gigi calls out. That girl has nerves of steel. I throw a questioning look at Vito, who holds up two fingers, indicating the time it'll take for Al to get to them.
"Listen to me, Gigi. Your car is bulletproof; lock the doors, and don't let them in. Al is two minutes out."
"We don't have two minutes." She replies in a tense voice.
Okay. I bought that fucking car for her for a reason.
The damn thing weighs more than six thousand pounds, it's bulletproof, and it comes with all the bells and whistles needed to protect a foreign dignitary.
That thing is basically a fucking tank. I don't know who is after them right now, but I do know that they're safer the longer they can stay in the Mercedes.
"Alright, listen. The Maybach can take a hit. Don’t fucking hesitate?—"
"Already on it," my sister informs me. The elevator door dings. Finally.
"Then move, Gigi. Now!" I order.
Inside the elevator, Vito and I listen as Gigi fights for her, my wife's, and my child's lives.
Metal shrieks. Fuck! Images of what that impact might do to the small life inside Scarlet nearly bring me to my knees.
But the fury at whoever is attacking them is far greater, keeping me upright and clearheaded.
They messed with the wrong man's family.
I'll cut them into pieces and feed them to Marcello's sharks.
"Good," I force myself to breathe calmly even as my free fist hits the wall of the slowest fucking elevator in the world. "Now forward. Take out the one in front of you."
"There are guys—they're getting out—" Scarlet screams.
There's only one choice. "Gigi. Run. Them. Over."
Again, the small elevator cabin is filled with the sound of an impact and metal scraping against metal. But also a pinging sound I know well, even before Scarlet screams, "They're shooting at us."
The elevator doors open, and Vito and I make a run for the waiting helicopter. "Gigi!"
"I see them."
Vito holds up one finger, yelling into his phone.
"Al is one minute out, Gigi, get back to Main Street."
"Go!" I yell at the pilot while shutting the door.
My sister has a good head on her shoulders. Even though she hasn't gone through all the same training as I have, she learned some things, like defensive driving, shooting, and some martial arts, I tell myself. They're going to be okay—all three of them.
"Alright, Main St—" the sound of a crash followed by the screams of the two most precious people in the world to me nearly kills me.
"Where the fuck is Al?" I yell at Vito.
"They took him out. Just like Gigi said, they have fucking bazookas." Vito's face is frozen in fury as he yells to another one of our soldiers to hurry the fuck up.
"Scarlet, Gigi!" I yell into the phone, but all I hear is the loud beeping of a horn. This assures me that their car wasn't taken out with a bazooka, but that assurance rapidly loses effectiveness at the sound of a woman moaning. It's too distorted to make out if it's from Scarlet or Gigi.
"I got her," a male voice shouts, stopping my heart. I look at Vito, who instantly yells into his phone before shaking his head at me. Not our men. Fuck!
"How far are you?" Vito yells. "Hurry the fuck up!"
"Hey, there's another one." A different voice announces.
"Take her too, let the boss decide what to do with her." The first voice replies, indicating they were only after one. Scarlet or Gigi?
"Let the fuck go of me!" Scarlet screams.
"Ouch, fucking bitch." The sound of a slap boils my blood.
"Don’t you dare lay a hand on her!" I yell into the phone.
Vito's eyes widen at me; he makes a slashing motion with his hand over his throat. I get it. He doesn't want to lose the fragile connection we have over the phone, but that's just it. It's too fucking fragile.
"Who the fuck? Hey, stop that, stop." I hear another slap. Give them hell, passerotta .
"I'll find you and tear your heart out, you motherfuckers!" I yell again.
And I will.
They don’t call me Savage King for nothing.
I will peel their fucking skin off, inch by inch, savoring every scream, every plea, every broken sob that escapes their worthless mouths.
Then, I will dip them in acid—slowly—let them feel it burn, let them rot while they’re still breathing.
And just when they think the worst has passed?
I will carve their hearts out with my bare hands.
They will bemoan the day they were born, their very existence will be a curse they’ll wish they could erase.
And not just death, no. Death will be too merciful.
I will burn their homes to the ground, erase their bloodlines, and destroy every last trace of their pathetic legacy.
I will hunt down their friends, their lovers, their families.
Not a single soul will be left on this Earth to mourn them.
No one will whisper their names. No one will remember they ever fucking existed.
They took what’s mine. They endangered my child!
Now, I will take everything from them.
The sound of a breath against the phone stills me.
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, Mr. DeLuna?" An ugly laugh follows.
"You know who I am," I state coldly.
Another chuckle.
"Then you know your pathetic life is over. Leave the women now, and I might show mercy."
Laughter—high-pitched and deranged, grates in my fucking ears only to be stopped by a high-pitched scream. Scarlet? Gigi?
The unmistakable bang of a shot rings out, followed by silence. Then more laughter, twisted and sick, before the line goes dead.
I stare at the phone. Vito stares at me.
Neither of us moves or breathes. We are both frozen as our demons attack us. My heart thumps inside my chest, while one of our loved ones’ hearts has just stopped.
The world around me shatters. With a roar, I grip the bolted-down table and pull, hard enough to make it groan against its fastenings. My foot slams into it next, the impact vibrates through my bones, but I don’t feel a fucking thing.
My heart is breaking—shredding into a thousand goddamn pieces. I kick the table again, harder this time, and something splinters under my force. But it’s not enough. Nothing will be enough. I thought I knew loss. I was so fucking wrong. This is worse than anything I have ever experienced.
Then cold stillness overcomes me, washing over me like a tidal wave. They want a war? They just fucking got it.
I turn to Vito, keeping my voice calm, controlled, and deadly. "What do we know ?"