Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Caelian
I yank Nevaeh down so fast, I almost rip her arm out of their sockets.
But it’s most important to get her the hell out of the way. Bullets fly in every direction. The city street goes from the usual buzz of afternoon traffic to the crackling storm of gunfire. A well-planned assassination is underway.
Somebody’s picked this moment to take me out. They’ve thought carefully about things like the when, where, and how. They’ve picked right now because it’s supposed to be a throwaway moment. A simple pick up of my wife from the doctor.
I’m supposed to escort Nevaeh back into the car so we can begin making our way to my estate.
Attacking now guarantees I’ll be knocked off my game. I’ll be in savior mode, desperately trying to keep Nevaeh out of harm’s way while they do damage.
But they’ve underestimated my taste for violence.
As they spray the area, hanging halfway out the windows of a pair of Cadillacs, I’m quick on the uptake. My men react as promptly as I do.
We take cover, then we rush to retaliate.
It’s only a couple seconds later that I’m taking aim at the vehicles and clenching the trigger of my Beretta PX4. The surrounding air hazes with thick plumes of gun smoke. Neither side is backing down as the seconds play out in deadly fashion.
One of my enforcer’s is struck in the neck. Another in the arm. We take out their driver. He slumps against the wheel, and the car jerks into oncoming traffic.
Chaos unleashes itself in every direction.
The scene’s nothing but hazy air and a cacophony of brutal sounds. Metal crashing against metal joins the crackling bullets. Then horrified screams and shattered glass and rubber tires screeching against pavement. The familiar wail of sirens in the distance playsa in the background.
But what’s loudest is the adrenaline rushing through me, pounding in my ears.
I’m like a machine the way I’ve thrown Nevaeh to the ground while whipping out my Beretta and taking out some of the men from the street.
As the second car collides with oncoming traffic and pedestrians on the street scream in hysterics, I’m hurling myself toward the commotion.
I leap over the rear end of the limo and shove several people out of the way.
The Cadillac’s been smashed into a crinkled hunk of metal that lies in the middle of the street. The car it collided with has fared slightly better. The driver has stumbled out of their car with blood speckled on their eyeglasses.
That’s more than can be said for the men inside the second Cadillac. The airbag has deployed and smoke chokes the air from the collision. I wrench open the dented-in door, almost ripping it off its hinges, and I toss the driver onto the ground.
Onlookers gasp, but it’s none of their fucking business.
If they’ve got a problem to take up with me, they’ll wind up knocked out beside the men who have launched this attack.
I shove the barrel of my Beretta into the guy’s mouth without a care who sees. Let the whole world see me blow this motherfucker’s brains out. He and his associates have attempted to gun down me and my wife.
Outside a fucking women’s clinic.
They deserve much worse fate than swallowing a bullet.
I jam the Beretta down his throat ’til he’s choking on it. The metal along the spine of the barrel taps against his teeth and scrapes up the roof of his mouth. His eyeballs bulge, making him resemble a toad the way they pop out.
If toads wore too much product in their hair and wore gaudy gold chains.
I grit my teeth, shoving more of the Beretta down his throat. His whole body shifts into fight mode, his arms and legs swinging and kicking in protest.
“Who the fuck are you and why the fuck were you shooting at me?”
I don’t recognize him—which means he’s either a new guy Pa’s hired on or one of Nero’s low-level guys. Either way, he’s going to provide me with answers. The men in the other car are dead, so he gets to be my punching bag.
Sergio and the other men I have with me know the routine. One of them helps Nevaeh up off the ground and into the limo. Sergio joins me as we throw the mystery shooter into the trunk.
A crowd of people have started to gather after the collision and shootout, but not a single one has their phones out.
They’re all ghostly pale with their mouths hanging open.
In a city like Dresden, people are more than familiar with the mafia battles that go on. The Vorones have bullied enough crime families into submission for them to be. They know what’s expected: absolute silence or else.
Few citizens want to find out what or else entails.
I’m fuming the entire drive back to my estate. I rage at Sergio as he clumsily drives us home. Having been grazed by a bullet, he’s bleeding in his seat, but it’s nothing life threatening. He knows not to complain.
Tulio will have to take a look at him.
After he checks out Nevaeh.
I knocked her to the ground so hard, she’s banged up too. Her knee’s all skinned up, and she’s got a lump on her head. She sits tightly in the far corner away from me, nursing her left arm as if that’s paining her too.
I’d feel guilty if the rage weren’t so consuming.
These assholes thought it was acceptable to open fire on my wife on a public street.
With the possibility that a baby is already growing inside of her.
My fucking offspring.
It’s a fucking line that’s been crossed. In pastimes, significant others and children were off limits. Blood relatives were off limits. A man could be your worst enemy, and you’d still never lay a finger on his wife or his children.
All that’s changed.
The Ziccardis and Vorones have both decided to play dirty. I’ll play dirtier than any of them.
We burst through the double-door entrance of my manor. Ms. Poitier’s in the vicinity, spinning around startled as she watches us storm inside. We’ve clearly been through some shit judging by the blood and bruises.
“What in the world happened?” she gasps.
“Take Nevaeh to see Tulio. Then make sure she’s cleaned up and settled in her room.”
“Cael—” Nevaeh warbles out as if she can’t censor herself. She reaches a hand for me, to grab my forearm that’s as thick and hard as a block of wood, but Ms. Poitier intercepts her first. Throwing an arm around her shoulders, she begins escorting Nevi away.
Nevaeh struggles to go along at first, turning to look back at me, then realizes it’s no use. I’ve moved onto barking orders at my men.
I don’t miss the heartbreak that unfolds onto her face; she was hoping I’d stay with her as she’s patched up considering everything that’s happened.
The sudden gunfire must’ve terrified her.
But my ballerina doesn’t understand I can’t be with her right now, even if I wanted to be. Other matters must be handled first.
Vincent Rosetti kneels in the middle of my war room as my men encircle him. I walk through the door with a taste for bloodshed.
Matteo led the effort in prepping him for me. He’s been searched and interrogated… to an extent.
Nothing compared to what’s about to happen to him.
They found his ID on him. We know he has no known associations with the Ziccardi or Vorone families.
Which means whoever he works for doesn’t want us to find out. Today’s attack was carried out at the behest of somebody powerful who wants to remain anonymous. It’s exactly the kind of shit one of my enemies would pull.
“I’m out of patience this evening,” I announce upon entering the room.
A hushed silence falls over everyone. They’re standing still as they obediently wait out what I have planned.
I walk over to my desk where there’s a decanter of cognac waiting for me. Pulling out the stopper, I take my time pouring my drink. Vincent’s holding it together better than most losers before him.
He’s not begging. Not crying for mercy.
He’s not even trying to haggle his way out of his situation.
“I have one question for you,” I say, sipping from my glass.
I’ve turned to face him, piercing him with my intimidating stare.
“One question I’m going to ask, and then we’ll get this over with.
You already know why you’re here. You know what you’ve done is despicable.
You’re probably aware you’re about to die.
But it’s up to you how painful you want it to be. ”
His eyes waver with uncertainty, his brows drawing close.
“You decide to be a stronzo, and you’ll suffer greatly for it. If you choose smartly and do as I ask, you’ll still die… but it’ll be quick. Less painful.”
I swallow another sip or two of my cognac and then set it down so we can get to work.
“First, you need to understand how serious I am about this. You have attempted to murder my men. You attempted to murder me. Both strikes against you, but then you had to bring my wife into it. You’ve attempted to hurt her.
Which is possibly the worst thing you can do in my eyes.
So you should understand you’re lucky I haven’t ripped you to shreds with my bare hands… yet.”
Vincent’s jaw squares as he remains silent. He barely dignifies my threat with a blink of his eyes.
A half-grin cracks onto my face. I sip more cognac. “Something tells me I know how this is about to go. But let’s get the question out of the way first. Tell me, Vincent. Who sent you?”
Tense silence answers the question I’ve asked.
Vincent remains mute as the question is posed. He simply holds my gaze and gives no reaction.
“As I thought,” I say. “You’ve decided to make this as painful as possible for yourself.
Truthfully, I’m glad. It means I can have a little fun making the piece of shit who shot at my wife suffer.
Chris, Matteo, take off his clothes. Then strap him down on the table right there.
We don’t want him having use of his arms and legs…
while they remain attached to his body, that is. ”