Chapter 39 Crumbling To His Knees
Crumbling To His Knees
I would do anything for you. —Love, Enzo
Enzo
Then—
Another bang.
Lucas’s mouth parts, eyes widening before they flicker shut.
A bullet hole forms right between his eyes.
He falls, crumbling to his knees.
I look up, meeting Izzy’s powerful gaze. The gun is still pointed at where Lucas used to be. Her eyes—wild, blazing with fury—soften when they look at me.
She takes off running, her feet pounding the ground as she barrels toward me.
Panting, muscles screaming, I push up from the floor, just in time for her to jump into my arms; her weight is a welcome comfort. A small "umph" escapes my lips as I wince from the impact. My body is still sore from Lucas's attack and the tender muscles scream in protest.
I cradle her to me, relishing in the feel of having her in my arms, using her as a reminder that I’m alive. That she is too.
“I thought he was going to kill you,” she whispers, her voice a little frayed.
“Good job you were here to save me, Piccola.”
She slaps me on the chest, pulling back to glare at me. “What have I told you about using that nickname?”
I feign ignorance. “That you love it and wish I’d use it more?”
Her mouth pulls into a frown, her eyes narrowing. “I hate you.”
I set her down, her barely five-foot frame ending at my chest. “But it fits so perfectly.”
She grumbles, folding her arms over her front.
I'm jolted back to reality by a gunshot, a reminder of the others in the room.
Sometimes, when she’s around, I become so entranced by her presence—her captivating smile, the melodic timber of her laughter—that I forget the rest of the world exists.
The event room is in chaos, guards lay dead, guests cower or run for the exits. I realize now that the ones that started firing before are not real guests. They’re Phoenix operatives.
Gio is missing, likely finding the girl he came here for.
This has not gone as planned.
But I can’t say I’m disappointed by the outcome.
Lucas is dead.
That’s the most important thing for me.
Now we have to make sure that no one takes his place in leading this operation.
I shoot a text to Dante.
We round up the remaining guests—evil bastards here to bid on girls, or at least watch the spectacle. We’ll turn them over to the police, the ones in our pockets. Many will receive little more than a slap on the wrist—in that case, we’ll deal with them. Or Phoenix will.
After thirty minutes, Dante appears, along with my papa and some more of our men.
It doesn’t take long to get the place sorted. We find the girls being kept in a room upstairs, scared, naked, trembling.
Izzy and Noemi coax them out, offering reassurance words and kind smiles.
“What do we do with them?” I ask after we get them covered in tops and jackets. It’s not perfect, but at least it’s something.
No one is around to hear my unanswered question.
I call Nate.
“Enzo? What’s up, amigo?”
“That’s Spanish, dumbass.”
“Who says that’s not what I was going for?”
I sigh. “Can you be serious for five minutes?”
Immediately, his tone changes. “Sure, what’s wrong?”
“What should we do with a group of women who were being trafficked?”
Silence.
“How many?” I can hear the tightness in his voice.
“Thirty-three.”
“Fuck.”
“Any ideas?”
“First—get them somewhere safe. You need somewhere quiet, secure, and private. They’ll be in shock, don’t ask them questions yet. Feed them, give them clothes, blankets, comforts. They need to feel human again.”
“Izzy and Noemi are with them,” I say. “They’re doing what they can.”
“Good. Familiar, gentle faces help. But this can’t stay in your hands long. You need specialists—trauma counselors, medics, translators if needed. Some might be pregnant, injured, sick.”
“And I can’t call just anyone.”
“No. I’ll reach out to some charities I know in New York, see what they can do. But honestly? Right now, you need to put them in a safehouse.”
My mind races.
Gio appears, his eyes frantic, hair mused. “Where is she?”
His suit is disheveled, eyes bloodshot. He has a gunshot wound to his right arm.
I click off the call.
“You need a doctor.”
He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. “Not until I know she’s safe. Where is she?”
I motion toward where Izzy and Noemi are congregated with the women on the far side of the room.
Gio’s strides carry him there quickly, his eyes raking over them. His head stops moving when he finds who he’s looking for, his shoulders dropping as some of the tension leaves him.
“Gio?” a trembling girl breathes, eyes brimming with tears, her face splotchy and red.
“Aria.” His voice cracks.
He takes a step forward, but she flinches. Gio curses, body locked tight. He appears to war with himself, until, finally, he turns, walking back this way.
“What’s the plan?” he asks once he reaches me.
“We need to get them to a safehouse then get them specialist help—I have a contact who’s going to put me in touch with people that can help.”
He nods, closing his eyes briefly. “I have a place we can take them; secluded, highly guarded, enough space for them all.”
I consider it.
I trust Gio. He has vested interest. And it tracks that the Santorini family would have their own hideouts.
“Alright, if you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Izzy strolls over. “We’ll get the girls to one of our facilities.”
Of course Phoenix has its own safe houses. It's literally designed for this purpose.
Gio stills.
“Where is this facility?”
Izzy scrunches up her face. “Can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Gio hisses, going toe-to-toe with her.
My body vibrates with the need to step in, to defend her. But my girl has this.
“Can’t,” she counters, crossing her arms to show she’s not intimidated. “I don’t know where it is.”
Gio breathes deeply, chest expanding before he steps back. “I’m taking Aria with me.”
Izzy studies him, brow furrowed adorably. “Only if she agrees,” she eventually says, turning on her heel to head back toward the women huddling nervously.
Gio rumbles low in his throat, but he doesn’t argue, and he lets me start checking out his arm. The bullet must have grazed him, there’s a lot of blood, but the injury itself is minimal.
Only once the women are safely with the Phoenix team do I finally feel like I can breathe. Gio takes Aria with him, having managed to convince her that he can keep her safe.
Despite the victory of today—killing Lucas—I can’t shake my unease. Marcus is still out there. Part of me wonders if he’s actually the bigger threat.