Chapter 25
25
Ginny
I n one swift motion, I slip my hand free from the zip tie and reach up, looping it around the guard’s neck and pulling tight. His eyes widen, a choked sound escaping his throat as he struggles, but I hold on, digging my heels into the floor as I pull with every ounce of strength I have.
Just when I think I might lose my grip, Rocco lunges forward, tripping the guard and sending him crashing down to the floor. The impact is brutal, his head smacking against the concrete with a sickening thud, but Rocco doesn’t stop there. He stomps down on the guard’s face, his expression cold, relentless, until the man stops moving altogether.
For a moment, I stand there, trying to catch my breath, my heart racing as I process what’s just happened.
I’ve never seen a dead body before in person. Not outside of a funeral home, anyway. Better him than one of us though. My stomach twists sharply, though it has nothing to do with the earlier pain I felt. I can’t help but vomit on the spot. I’m hunched over, my hands braced against my knees as my body shakes from the exertion.
There’s no time to dwell on it, though, not a moment to waste. Rocco turns his back to me, holding out his wrists.
“Untie me,” he says, his voice gruff but steady.
I look around for something to cut through his zip ties. His hands definitely aren’t small enough to just slip through them. I crouch down, forcing myself to not give any real thought to what I’m doing, and pat down our guard until I find a pocketknife in his pocket. I pull it out and fiddle the switch until a small, sharp blade pokes out. I cut at the zip tie with precision, dropping the knife like it’s a hot coal the second Rocco is free of his bondage.
He pulls his hands apart, rubbing his wrists before bending down to pick up the guard’s gun. He glances at me, his expression unreadable, a flicker of concern in his eyes.
“You need to get out of here,” he says, his tone firm, almost commanding. “Now. This isn’t the place for you. It’s going to get much worse.”
I shake my head, determination hardening inside me. “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him resolutely. “Mateo’s walking into a trap because of me. I’m not just going to leave him here. Besides, this place is crawling with Savini men. How exactly do you expect me to get out without putting myself in more danger?”
“Ginny,” he says patiently. “If I know Mateo at all, half of his men are outside right now. Just get outside and one of them will get you to safety.”
“No,” I nearly shout, my mind made up. “I’m not leaving him to die.”
Rocco lets out a frustrated sigh, his jaw clenched as he stares at me, clearly torn between wanting to argue and knowing we don’t have time.
“If you want to get yourself killed, that’s on you,” he mutters.
I nod in agreement, trying to keep my emotions in check as I consider his words. I look back down at the dead guard, and it hits me all over again. This is Mateo’s life. This is the life I’m actively choosing by walking into danger.
For a split second, I can see my life flash before my eyes, but it isn’t my past. It’s my future. I see what could happen if I walk away from this right now, if I leave Mateo to die.
In one future, I’m alive, living somewhere far away from here. Cassidy and I are raising my child together, and I’m content as I can be. But I’m not truly happy. Mateo woke something up in me that I didn’t know was asleep, and it’s not something I can just ignore now that I know him.
The other future is much less certain. There’s more danger, more moments like this. Hell, part of me doesn’t even know if we make it out of this warehouse. We could be fighting for a future that doesn’t even exist. But at least I would die with Mateo, die choosing him and knowing he chose me in return.
I’m in love with him. Living without him is not even an option anymore.
“Let’s go,” I nod at Rocco, sealing my fate in stone.
He moves toward the door, and I follow close behind, my heart pounding as we slip out of the room we’ve been held in and into the dimly lit hallway. There’s a flight of stairs, and I realize we must be in the basement of this building. Rocco and I slowly, quietly, make our way up the stairs. When we reach the top, he puts out his hand to stop me, and I flatten myself against the cold, hard wall, holding my breath.
He peeks around the corner of the stairs, his body tense, alert. I follow his gaze, catching a glimpse of a man standing guard nearby, likely a backup for our dead guard in the basement. His back is to us, his posture relaxed and almost bored. Like our guard, he probably feels like he’s missing out on the real action.
Knowing he’d rather shoot, but not wanting to bring attention to us, Rocco steps forward toward the guy, nearly silently, raising the butt of his gun and coming down hard on the back of his head. His body collapses instantly, a loud thud as he hits the ground.
Rocco looks back at me with a mix of resignation and pity. “This life isn’t for someone like you, Bella.” He sighs. “You should never have gotten involved with this.”
“But I am,” I argue. “And I love Mateo. You do too, Rocco. Wouldn’t you do anything to make sure he’s safe?”
“Of course I would, but it’s different for me. I’m an old man, I’ve been in more situations like this than you can count, and I know what I’m doing. You could be hurt if you stay, and that’s not going to benefit anyone.”
I place my hands on my hips petulantly and stand my ground. “It’s my decision to make,” I tell him firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He nods, then turns his back to me, a clear indication that I should follow if I mean what I say. We walk carefully through the building, our eyes peeled for any other signs of life.
He stops abruptly as we near another corner, and he gestures for me to look for myself. I carefully peek over the corner to see another man standing guard at a closed door.
“I think that’s where Mateo is,” he whispers to me. “This is your last chance. Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”
“Positive,” I whisper, my voice barely audible but filled with determination. I’m not going anywhere. Not without Mateo.
He nods, a flicker of respect in his eyes as he studies me. “Okay, Bella.”
Then, without warning, he grabs me, his arm wrapping around my neck as he presses the gun to my temple. I gasp, caught off guard, my body tensing instinctively, but I force myself to stay calm, to trust him. This is part of the plan. It has to be.
Rocco’s voice rings out, loud and commanding, cutting through the relative silence of the building.
“Hey!” he yells to the guard. “Over here!”