31. Siena #2
Franco growls, suddenly jerking the gun away from Valentina’s temple and firing two shots above his head.
I flinch, but Matti doesn’t move except to slowly grab a fistful of my shirt and pull me back to where I was behind him.
“I don’t give a FUCK about what you think my ceiling is.” Franco wipes his nose with the back of his hand holding the gun, nostrils flaring. “You’re not the mother fucking boss, Matti.”
Valentina wobbles, struggling to stay upright. Franco slams the butt of his gun against her skull, and she crumples to the floor.
“Let the women go, Franco,” Matti says, carefully reaching into his back waistband for his gun.
I grab his hand before he can draw, and he freezes. Franco is a reckless, misguided moron, but he’s also my brother. I’m confident that Matti had nothing to do with Emily’s death, but if he kills Franco, it will destroy everything we’ve built.
Matti exhales, long and slow, then shakes his head slightly, his way of telling me to let go. I don’t.
Oblivious to how close he is to death, Franco sneers.
“Do you even know your history? Our history? Dragovari isn’t a name in this world.
Your father wasn’t shit. Your mother was no one.
But Bellamorte—” He thumps his chest. “That name carries weight. It carries power. You’re just a lackey for a fat greaseball circling the drain.
Me? I’ve got generations of power behind me.
And I’m willing to put in the mother fucking WORK. ”
Matti’s hand stays at the gun at his waistband as he tries to swat mine away, but I don’t budge, keeping my grip firm. He exhales sharply and darts a half glance back at me, frustrated.
When I still don’t move, he tilts his head at Franco, unimpressed with his rant. “What work, Franco?”
Matti pulls his hand away from his gun and reaches into his front pocket. He pulls something out and tosses it at Franco’s feet. It clinks against the floor, the dim light catching on the broken watch band and shattered face—my watch, my father’s watch, the one I found in Emily’s things.
Matti continues, his tone mocking, disgusted. “This work? You’re so fucking proud of your family line that you took out one of your own?”
A chill lances through me. My whole body starts to shake.
“That’s not Franco’s,” I blurt as my mind races. The words sound weak even to me. I don’t know if I believe them or if I just need them to be true.
Franco scoffs. “I’ll own it. Our mother gave me that six months ago. It fucking broke when I was planting the bomb on the plane.” He glares at Matti, voice curling into a snarl. “And for your information, I took out Mikey . Emily was collateral damage, but I promise you, she’s no fucking saint.”
My breath locks in my throat. Everything inside me goes still, then shatters into white noise.
Franco didn’t want me to look for Emily.
He never asked what was on the flash drive.
Matti and Vin were at One Pearl Park Plaza before I arrived, and the only person who knew that I knew about the address was Franco.
Franco showed up at the law office even though I didn’t tell him I was going there.
He didn’t stop that guy from fucking with me.
And Emily told me emphatically not to involve him.
I stare at Franco, my pulse pounding, as the shattered pieces click back together, creating a new horrifying version of the truth.
I feel sick. I can’t move. I can’t speak.
Matti’s voice cuts through my thoughts, measured, deliberate. “So when Aurelio asked you to kill Mikey, you thought he would finally respect you, finally bring you into the family.” Matti says the words slowly, and I know they’re more for my benefit than Franco’s. He wants me to understand.
Franco barks a laugh. “Please. That fat fuck had no idea it was me. He never assigned me to do shit.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Franco’s words slice my heart open, the smug look on his face salt in the wound. Because if Aurelio didn’t tell him to do it, then that means —
“You did it on your own, hoping to impress Aurelio,” says Matti, his voice sharpening into a blade. “Anything you won’t do, you fucking maggot? You suck his dick too, or does he prefer it when you bend over?”
Franco smirks. “Fuck you, Matti.” He waves his gun, punctuating his words. “You’re the one still serving that delusional old fuck, using your stable of whores to do his dirty work. The person I work for is much higher up than he is. I don’t give a shit about impressing Aurelio.”
“If you say so, Franco.”
Franco’s gaze flicks to me, and he smirks.
“Let me ask you something: what is it about my sister? I hear you like to stick your dick in whores nonstop, including this one here.” He grabs Valentina by her hair and yanks her to her feet, locking her in another chokehold.
“You got her in training or something? Because as long as I’ve known her she’s been nothing more than a dead fish who’s only fucked maybe two guys in her life.
Did you know that she hasn’t been fucked in years?
She was so bad, the last boyfriend threw her out after he cheated on her for years. ”
My face heats with shame. I can’t believe he’s using my ex against me, like it’s my fault. He just voiced all of my worst thoughts about myself, all my insecurities, the reason I feel like I could never be enough for anyone—and he did it in front of Matti.
Matti clenches his jaw. “If you value your life, Franco, you will never talk about my fiancee. Ever.” His voice softens, and I know he’s again talking to me, though he’s looking at Franco.
“But if it puts your mind at ease, I do know that. I know everything there is to know about her. And I know more than you think about you, too. ”
Franco twitches. “You don’t know shit.”
Matti shrugs. “There is one thing I don’t know: why did you decide to dump Aurelio? What changed?”
Franco exhales sharply. “What changed? Nothing changed. I just stopped pretending after I was strung up in your shitty dungeon for weeks, and Aurelio did nothing. Fuck him. Fuck all the Demonios. If you were smart, you’d get out, too.”
The door from the parking garage behind Franco bursts open.
My heart practically stops as Aurelio’s large frame fills the doorway as he limps into the vestibule leaning heavily on a cane, his presence sucking the air from the room. Panic shoots through me like a lightning bolt, the vibration almost audible.
“I do nothing because you are a piece of shit, Franco.” Aurelio’s heavily accented voice is low and thunderous.
Franco jolts, jumping to the wall and dragging Valentina with him as Aurelio continues.
“You shouldn’t need to be rescued like some bitch woman.
If you are a man, you handle your business. Right, Matteo?”
I’m trying not to hyperventilate. Aurelio, Franco—it’s impossible to breathe in here. I let go of Matti and grip the suitcase handle with both hands, trying to stay upright.
And then there’s Matti. He knew that Franco killed Emily, right? When did he know? Did he know the whole time, the whole time that I was desperate to know what happened to her? He let me believe it was him, and he kept the truth from me. So much for ‘no more secrets.’
Despite being crushed into a small space with so many other people, I have never felt more alone in my life.
My pulse hammers as two of Aurelio’s men step inside behind him, masked and armed.
Matti stiffens beside me. His hand moves behind him, slow and steady, toward his gun. “And what business are you handling right now, exactly?”
Aurelio coughs harshly. “With so much business to handle in this very room, it’s hard to know where to start. An embarrassment of riches. Speaking of—” he gestures to the suitcases, snapping his fingers. One of his men steps forward.
Turning to Matti, Aurelio snarls, “You. You break my heart. You betray me for a bitch puttana ! A fucking Bellamorte! I loved you like you were my own son.”
“You treat your sons like shit.” Matti states drily.
Aurelio scoffs, turning to Franco with a glare. “And you, you make me look like a fool, killing my own man!” His voice cracks like a whip. “If you think this is your way in, you are dead wrong. You’ll never be more than a Bellamorte dog with no balls. ”
“No balls, huh?” Franco growls, his face contorting.
I know that look. I’ve seen it a hundred times: when we were kids, when he got in fights at school, when he made stupid, reckless decisions just because someone told him he couldn’t.
I know exactly what he’s about to do.
Time slows to a bone crushing halt. My breath catches in my throat.
Franco’s fingers tense on the gun. His muscles coil, his body shifting like a predator ready to strike.
And I move.
Without thought, I yank Matti’s gun from his waistband. The metal is solid, heavy in my grip. My heartbeat pounds like a war drum, and I barely take time to aim the gun before my first shot cracks through the vestibule.
The world explodes into chaos.
Aurelio’s men open fire. My ears ring so loud I can’t hear anything but a high pitched whine. Valentina crumples, hitting the floor in a sickening blur.
Matti slams into me like a rock wall, shoving me to the ground, his body shielding mine as bullets splinter through the walls. My view is partially obscured from beneath him, but I’m still gripping the gun, pointing it at Franco.
The air is thick with gunpowder, with the acrid scent of blood. Franco is still standing, his arm jerking back from the recoil after firing his gun. His wild, furious eyes lock onto Matti on the ground, on top of me, protecting me. He takes aim.
No .
I see everything with perfect clarity.
The overhead light flickering, casting jagged shadows across Franco’s face. The way his lip curls, sweat dripping down his temple. The way Matti is already moving to get to him first, but I know— I know —he won’t get there in time.
I have to do this.
I block out the noise. The panic. The past.
I lift Matti’s gun, grip tight, my pulse steadying. My hands don’t shake anymore.
Franco’s gaze returns to me, locking on mine over the barrel of Matti’s gun as he registers what’s happening.
I pull the trigger.