37. 37 – Caterina
We watch the camera footage. Lights appear on the road, the cars flying up way too fast.
“Open the gates.” Dom shouts it down the radio. “Now!”
Luc and Stefan barely clear them, the car doors scraping against the metal.
No sooner is the convoy through than they’re being pushed shut again. Nico and Johnno, blurry small figures on the screen in front of us, fly into action, wrapping the metal as quickly as possible. Several others begin loading up the road, tossing packages down seemingly at random.
Behind me, Vincent is organising, sending groups to go and help with the unloading of the convoy.
I check my weapons again on my way out to help. Guns are strapped to my arms, my legs, spare cartridges at my waist. My daggers are on my feet.
“They’re coming.” Dom’s voice makes me jerk back around. Dante and Gio crowd in behind me as we watch, the hall behind us falling silent.
The row of vehicles seems to go on forever. They don’t stop.
“Get out of there,” Gio mutters. “Come on.”
The small figures are still working. Still dropping those packages.
“Less than a minute.” Dom’s voice is strained. “How are we doing on the convoy?”
I turn to look. Boxes are coming into the hall, a group ripping them open as others hand them in. “It’s coming in now.”
“Thirty seconds.”
The figures scatter, disappearing into the darkness.
“Ten.”
We wait. The screen flashes white, the noise of the explosion hitting us a second later. Several others follow as Matteo’s men drive straight over the mines thrown down to welcome them.
“Let’s hope he was in front,” Dante mutters.
He won’t be. But as the screen wavers back into place, pieces of broken, smoking wreckage block the entrance. “How many did we hit?”
“Hard to tell.” Dom studies it. “But enough to buy us some time. They can’t drive through.”
Small packs of soldiers are leaving, directed to locations across campus by Vincent and Gio. My fingers clench around my phone as I check my messages. “An hour, Marco says.”
An hour until any reinforcements get here.
Stefano and Luc push through the doors with boxes in their hands, their eyes immediately moving to me.
“Fucking hell, that was close,” Luc breathes when I head to them. “Stefan drives like a machine.”
Stefan is already digging through boxes. He tosses me some Glock switches and I start attaching them to one of my guns, keeping the other for single use.
“Time to go.” Dante grabs another of the switches. “They’re coming in fast.”
I glance over to the screen, to the dozens of crawling ants climbing over the smoking remains of the cars. “Dom.”
We won’t be separated. Not this time.
Gio assesses some of the weapons in the box Stefan still holds, pulling out a couple. “Everyone got what they need?”
I call out to Vincent. “Don’t die.”
He grins, giving me a salute. “You either, boss.”
We take off from the hall at a run until we reach the Courtyard, and Dante pulls me to a stop. “The path. There. Anything goes wrong, you’re going to run.”
“I’m not—,”
“Yes,” he snaps. “You are, Cat.”
They all stare at me steadily.
“You picked this on purpose.” Dawning horror fills me. “You know I won’t do that.”
"I promised you would make it back .” Dante grips my face. “If you need to, Cat, if it looks bad – that’s your way back to her.”
“Fuck you. You take the damn path.”
“Stubborn, infuriating—,”
“Incoming,” Stefan says urgently. We quieten, taking our places.
It feels organised. As if we can pick them off, one by one.
They crawl over us like the ants they felt like on the cameras. Black-clad men appear from every direction. Stefan and I put the semi-automatics to use as Dante and Gio pick off those closest. Dom and Luc focus on the sides of the large group that tries to flank us, keeping them close for our bullets.
Organised… until it isn’t.
The minutes tick by, screaming filling my ears and smoke from the guns burning my eyes. The space around us fills with our men and his, guns replaced by hand-to-hand fighting. I rip my knives out from a man who gets too close, turning to sweep my blade across the neck of another who grabs for me.
Dante and Luc are a few feet away, barely visible. I can’t see Stefan at all. Gio and Dom stay close, our backs together for protection.
Another explosion erupts, red and orange flashing across my vision as my feet leave the ground. I hit the floor with a roll, my skin scraping until I come to a stop, my ears ringing.
“ Cat .” Dom bellows my name frantically. “Cat!”
“Here.” I cough, pushing myself upright. “I’m here!”
My voice croaks, and then another two of this endless river of fucking soldiers appear, both aiming for me as I lift my gun in return.
It goes on, and on. My hair sticks wetly to my face, the scent of iron in my nose and my skin stinging from my roll across the ground. I don’t stop – can’t stop.
I can’t see them. And I’m starting to get tired.
The blow hits from nowhere. It smashes into my side, knocking the wind out of me as I crumple, losing my gun in the process. I rip my second from the holster as another hit smashes across my face.
Blood.
Blood in my mouth. I spit, rolling away and pulling myself upright. “Took you long enough.”
My side is screaming. His punch broke a rib, at least, and as he holds up his hand, I realise why.
The knuckleduster looks like solid silver, matching the sharper caps that flash as Matteo smirks at me. “Hello, cugina .”
“Right on… time.” My lungs scream for air as I run my eyes over him, searching for weapons. “A touch late, maybe.”
His eyes darken. “Or two days early. A nice little speech you gave this evening. I’ll be watching carefully to see who bothers to answer your little plea.”
My grin is more like a baring of teeth. “You’re not going to be alive to see it.”
He rotates his shoulder. “Planning on poking me with your toothpick again?”
I glance behind me. “Oh, they’re not coming. I brought some extra men with me to keep them busy.”
He takes a step forward. “Just you and me, Caterina.”
“Excellent.” My hand slides down to my belt. “Did you like our little trick yesterday? Must have hurt, having your show ruined.”
He shrugs. “Plenty more of those in the future, I assure you. I’ve got all sorts of plans, Caterina. Everyone who you care about. All of them. I’m going to hunt them down when you’re dead, and I’m going to make them scream.”
Leaning in, he grins manically. “And those men you spread your legs for – they’re first on the list. They’re going to last for months. As long as I can keep them alive. They’ll beg to die, and I’m going to enjoy every moment of their pain. Maybe I’ll keep your body around to really torment them.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath.” Rage coats my vision as we face each other. I tug on the string around my wrist before pulling the knife free. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
I throw the knife. It flies past his shoulder, and he throws his head back on a laugh. “Fucking pathetic.”
“Not that. This .”
I whip the thin length of silver out. It slashes across Matteo’s face in a clean, deep cut as he folds over with a roar.
I run for him, flinging myself onto his back and gripping his neck as I wrap the garotte around it and pull as hard as I fucking can.
Matteo chokes beneath my grip. His fist slams up and into my cheekbone, leaving fire in its wake before I dodge the second hit and slide off, backing up.
His hands grapple with the garotte, but it’s too tight for his fingers to create a gap as it cuts off his air. He shoves the knuckleduster off his hand, and I lean down to pick it up. “Heavier than I expected.”
It smashes into his nose and Matteo howls , a choked, enraged cry. He doubles over as he backs away and I stalk toward him.
I slide my dagger from my shoe. “I was going to take a long time over this, but I’d rather you were dead.”
I slash my knife across his face. “For Amie.”
Again, my heart filled with rage. “For Bea and Pepe.”
Again. “For Frankie.”
His screams turn high and reedy as my knife cuts away. There are too many, too many dead and hurt by his hand.
He slumps to his knees, his fingers clawing at his face and neck. Blood coats him; his eyes, his face as I lean forward and seize his chin in my hand.
“Gio should be here,” I tell him softly. “But since he’s not…,”
He struggles as I shove my hand into his mouth and yank out his tongue. “This is for Nicoletta Fusco.”
His screams turn muffled as my knife slices through his flesh. I shove his head back as his body collapses, gurgling sounds the only noise he makes as he chokes on his blood and I toss his tongue to the side in disgust.
I sit heavily, pulling up my knees as I watch my cousin writhing in agony. Watch his movements slow, before they stop completely.
“Burn in hell,” I whisper. “Tell Salvatore I said hello.”
Or not, considering.
We’re out of the way, directly underneath the red oak tree. Matteo’s blood soaks into the ground as I drag myself to my feet and turn, looking for them.
Dante finds me first. He grabs my shoulders, his eyes on my face. “Your face – what happened —,”
I point behind me, and Dante swears as he sees Matteo’s body. “Marco’s men are here – others, too. It’s enough, Cat. We’re done. He’s fucking dead .”
He walks over to check, and I drop the knife I’m holding to the ground in exhaustion.
It’s done.
It’s over.
Dante wraps his arms around me. “ Tentazione —,”
He jerks against me, nearly toppling us both.
His mouth opens, those green eyes blinking as he looks at me. “Cat.”
I try to take his weight as he collapses against me, his knees folding like the strings of a puppet.
No.
I lower him to the ground, my hands running frantically over his body. “Dante – no. No .”
Blood. There’s so much blood, everywhere, all over my hands, and I can’t work out where it’s coming from and why there’s so fucking much of it—
Warm hands grip mine, slippery with his blood. “ Tentazione .”
“Fuck off.” I scream it at him. “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you dare .”
Don’t say it. Not like that. Never like that.
I’m sobbing as I push him to the side, see the scarlet spreading across his white shirt. So much that I can’t tell where it’s coming from. “Help me!”
Screaming. So much screaming. And he’s looking at me, and I’m gripping his face, screaming at him to stop being so fucking stupid and stand up.
I’ve messed up his face. There’s blood on his lips as he coughs.
I try to wipe it away, but more of it appears.
His fingers brush mine, and they feel so cold. “It’s okay.”
No.
It’s not okay.
It will never be okay.
I fight as hands pull me away, kicking and screaming.
This is not how it ends.
This is not how we end.
And I scream. I scream over and over as my heart rips and shatters, as my soul cracks, because Dante V’Arezzo is not allowed to leave me.
But his eyes close.
And he doesn’t move any more.