Chapter 42 #2
He smiles, the expression cold and empty as a shark’s. “Indeed. Though I think you’re forgetting who has the gun.”
The second shot comes without warning. I feel the bullet pass my cheek, just as Raven makes a choked sound and she drops down. The world stops. Everything—the fire, the smoke, the roar of flames—recedes into distant background noise.
All I can see is Salvador, with the gun still raised, the barrel now aimed directly at where Raven crouches behind me. All I can feel is rage, white-hot and consuming, burning through my veins like liquid metal.
“You missed,” I say, and I don’t recognize my own voice anymore. It’s too calm, too controlled for the violence building inside me like a storm.
“Did I?” Salvador’s smile widens. “I wasn’t aiming for you that time.”
Fury unlike anything I’ve felt before stirs inside me. The part of me that’s been holding back, that’s been calculating and planning and thinking, falls away. What rises in its place is something older, something primal.
My body changes with it—shoulders lowering, stance widening, muscles coiling with lethal intent. I see Salvador recognize the transformation, watch as uncertainty flickers across his face for the first time.
“You shouldn’t have touched her,” I growl, my words barely audible over the crackling flames. “You shouldn’t have even looked at her.”
I begin moving toward him, each step deliberate and unhurried. The fire spreads around us, consuming crates and pallets. Smoke thickens the air, but I don’t need to see clearly. I know exactly where he is. I can smell his fear beneath the cologne and gunpowder.
“Stay back!” Salvador shouts, firing again.
Behind me, I hear Raven’s ragged breathing, sense her rising to her feet. The knowledge that she’s still standing, still fighting, fuels the fire in my blood. Salvador Greco is already dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.
I smile at him, and whatever he sees in my face makes him take a step back. “You wanted the monster who burned your family,” I say, still advancing. “Well, here I am. Boo.”
Our bodies collide like wrecking balls. Salvador’s gun skitters across the floor as my shoulder drives into his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs in a satisfying whoosh.
We crash into a stack of crates, wood splintering around us as we go down hard. My fist connects with his jaw; the impact jolts up my arm. He retaliates with a knee to my ribs. I barely feel it. All I feel is the need to tear him apart with my bare hands for daring to touch what’s mine.
“I should have killed you all those years ago,” I snarl into his face, driving another punch into his stomach. “But don’t worry, I never make the same mistake twice.”
“You’re going to pay,” Salvador hisses as he continues to throw punches that I mostly manage to avoid.
Blood runs into my eye from a gash on my forehead. Salvador’s face is a mess of cuts and forming bruises, his clothes torn and dirty.
“How did it feel?” he asks, voice ragged as we circle. “When your parents burned? Did they scream? I’m sure mine did. I heard them in my imagination for years.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl, feinting left before driving right, my fist clipping his shoulder as he dodges.
He laughs again, the sound manic and unhinged. “Did you enjoy watching them burn? Is that why you do it? Set fires, burn down buildings? Is it a sick tribute to them?”
His words hit harder than his fists. Something inside me falters, a hairline fracture in my focus. It’s all he needs. Salvador lunges, catching me off guard. His arm locks around my throat from behind, bending me backward in a crushing headlock.
His other hand comes up, fist connecting with the side of my face in rapid, brutal punches. One, two, three. Each one sending lightning bolts of pain through my skull.
“I’m going to kill you slowly,” he promises, his breath hot against my ear.
Blood fills my mouth. My vision narrows to a tunnel, darkness creeping in at the edges. I twist and struggle, but his grip only tightens, cutting off the blood flow to my brain. My legs start to buckle.
“What do you think, Raven?” Salvador calls out, and I can hear the smile in his voice. There’s no answer. “Raven?”
He tosses me aside like garbage, my body hitting the concrete with bone-jarring force. Through the haze of pain, I see him reaching behind his back, pulling another gun from his waistband—a backup I should have anticipated.
Then a blur of pink launches itself across my field of vision—Raven, moving with a speed I didn’t think she had left, her face contorted in a feral snarl of rage. She launches herself at Salvador from behind, jumping on his back. The impact sending them both staggering forward.
Her scream doesn’t sound human—a primal, animalistic shriek that raises the hair on the back of my neck. The knife flashes in her hand, driving deep into the side of Salvador’s throat with such force that the blade disappears up to the hilt.
He makes a wet, choking sound, his hand releasing the gun to clutch at his neck. His eyes bulge with shock as he tries to throw Raven off, but she clings to him, a vengeful demon riding his back, twisting the knife deeper with savage determination.
I lunge forward, grabbing Salvador by the hair. Our eyes lock—his wide with pain and disbelief, mine cold with the promise of death. My hands find his jaw and the back of his skull, gripping with purpose.
“This is for touching her,” I snarl, and wrench his head sharply to the side.
The crack of his spine breaking echoes even over the roar of the fire. Raven twists the knife one final time as his body goes limp, her face splattered with his blood but her eyes clear and focused.
We hold him between us for a moment—this man who tried to destroy us both—before letting his body collapse to the floor.
Raven stares down at him, chest heaving with exertion, knife still clutched in her bloodied hand. “Is he dead?” Her voice is barely audible, scraped raw from smoke and screaming.
I nod, stepping over Salvador’s corpse to reach her. “He’s dead.”
She sways on her feet, and I catch her before she can fall, pulling her against me. For one suspended moment, we stand together in the center of hell, holding each other upright, both covered in blood—some ours, most not.
“We need to go,” I say against her hair, suddenly aware of how much worse the fire has gotten. The warehouse is fully engulfed now, black smoke rolling down from the ceiling in thick, choking waves.
Beams groan overhead, threatening to collapse. The heat blisters against my skin, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.
Raven nods against my chest, sliding her knife back into her pocket with shaking hands. “Which way?”
I scan the inferno, calculating our chances. Fire completely blocks the way I came in. The side exits are likely the same. But behind us—the loading dock should still be accessible if we move fast enough.
“This way,” I decide, taking her hand and guiding her toward the back of the warehouse. The smoke thickens with each step, forcing us to crouch lower to find breathable air. Flames lick at the walls and ceiling, consuming everything in their path.
A beam crashes down just feet away from us, sending up a shower of sparks and embers. Raven stumbles, coughing violently, her grip on my hand weakening. I wrap my arm around her waist instead, half-carrying her as we navigate through the maze of fire.
“Stay with me,” I urge her, my own lungs burning with each breath. “Just a little further.”
She nods, struggling to keep her feet moving. Her body sags against mine, exhaustion finally overwhelming even her stubborn will. I tighten my grip, supporting more of her weight, pushing us both forward through heat that feels like the inside of a furnace.
The loading dock doors loom ahead, warped by the heat but still intact. I kick at the emergency release, once, twice—the mechanism gives way on the third try, the doors sliding apart just enough for us to squeeze through.
The air feels cool compared to the flame-thick heat inside. We stumble out into the darkness, coughing and gasping, still clinging to each other. Raven’s legs finally give out, and mine aren’t far behind.
We collapse to our knees, gulping in clean air that tastes sweeter than anything I’ve ever known.
Movement registers in my peripheral vision—figures approaching with weapons drawn. I turn, putting my body between them and Raven, ready to fight again despite the fact that I can barely stand.
“Matteo.” Enzo’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. He lowers his gun, rushing toward us with Piper at his side. The relief on their faces is almost comical—like they expected to find nothing but ash.
Piper reaches us first, dropping to her knees beside Raven, hands hovering uncertainly over her bloodied form. “Oh my God, Lee… Are you okay?”
Raven makes a sound that might be a laugh or a sob, her face pressed against my shoulder. “Not… even… close,” she manages between ragged breaths.
Behind us, the warehouse groans and shudders as another section of roof collapses inward, sending a fresh column of flame shooting into the night sky. The heat pulses against our backs like a living thing, hungry and insistent.
“We need to move,” Enzo says, already pulling out his phone. “The fire department’s on their way, and we shouldn’t be here when they arrive.”
I nod, too exhausted to argue, too relieved to care about the logistics of explaining a burning warehouse and a man with a broken neck inside it.
All that matters is the woman still clutching my shirt with bloodstained fingers, her body trembling against mine like she might shatter into a thousand pieces if she lets go.
“Can you stand?” I ask her softly, brushing matted pink hair from her forehead.
She looks up at me, eyes reflecting the inferno behind us, and somehow finds the strength to smile. “Only if you help me.”