Chapter 41
41
A lex’s mind whirled at an alarming speed, struggling to process the scene unfolding in front of him. Nico’s wound was fatal. The young man, Mia’s brother, was meeting the same fate that she had.
A bloody death.
But he did his best to comfort Nico, saying, “You’re going to be okay, Nico. Just hold on.”
Nico shook his head. “Danger. I’m... sorry,” he muttered, his face still contorted in pain. The words hung in the air, thick and oppressive.
“What are you sorry for? Who did this to you?”
Nico struggled to speak then managed to croak out, “There's... boat... you must... leave.” He choked out directions.
Alex's mind was in turmoil, his thoughts a jumbled mess. "Did you tell anyone we were here?" he questioned urgently, the knot in his stomach tightening.
Nico's nod was slow, almost imperceptible. “I didn’t... know…” he gasped out, his breath hitching. The regret was clear in his eyes as he stared up at Alex, an apology that he didn't get a chance to voice.
Abruptly, Nico's chest stopped moving. His eyes glazed over. His final breath was a sigh, a soft sound that was barely heard over the deafening silence that engulfed them. His body was still warm, but the spark that was Nico, the vibrancy, the youth, was gone.
A profound sadness washed over him, seeping into his bones and weighing him down. But he couldn’t become mired in it. Danger was imminent, creeping closer with every passing moment.
What about the others? Renee? Rosa? The girls?
Alex tamped down his grief and panic with an iron will, the discipline of years of training making it possible. He could not afford to lose control now, not when lives were on the line.
His resolve solidified, his jaw tightening in a grim determination.
He turned to Leslie, her cheeks wet with tears, her lips trembling. She was huddled in on herself as if she was trying to hold herself together. Her eyes were wide, full of shock and despair. She looked so vulnerable, so out of place in this brutal reality.
"Leslie." Alex's voice was soft but steady. He released Nico, moving toward her, his hands cupping her face gently. It was then that he realized his hands were bloody, blood that now stained Leslie’s face. Still, he brushed away her tears with his thumbs, trying to offer some measure of comfort in their dire situation.
"Nico…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, choked with tears.
"I know," Alex replied, his voice heavy. "I know, Leslie. But we don't have time to grieve. We have to go. Can you hold on? Can you be strong for me?" His eyes never left hers, pleading with her to find the strength she would need to face what was coming.
He had to go back and check on the others, but first he had to get Leslie to safety.
To the boat.
When he heard a gunshot in the distance, Alex cursed. He always wore his gun in its holster, always. But earlier, when they’d headed to the kitchen to draw with Bella and Maria, he’d forgotten it. He immediately grabbed the gun from Nico’s holster, realizing it was still snapped in; the boy hadn’t even had a chance to draw his weapon before he’d been attacked.
"I'm going to take you to the boat," Alex said, his voice steady. "You’ll take it out onto the water."
"No, not without you," Leslie protested immediately. Her expression was determined, her jaw set. "I can help."
The thought of Leslie putting herself in harm's way made Alex's heart pound against his chest. "Leslie," he said, his tone hard. "Someone just murdered an armed security guard. You can't take them on. I need you to do as I say so I can check on the others. Do you understand?"
There was a beat of silence as the truth of his words sunk in. Leslie's shoulders sagged, a mixture of terror and resignation in her eyes. Yet she didn't argue further. It was clear she realized he was right.
He gently gripped her elbow and helped her stand. With one final glance at Nico, he began following Nico’s directions, guiding Leslie toward the direction of the boat.
Rain began to patter again, a soft rhythm against the leaves, slowly intensifying into a steady downpour. The sky above was a churning canvas of steel-grey clouds, echoing the turmoil that had ensnared their lives. Drops of rain trickled down Alex's face, blurring his vision, yet he pressed on, Leslie's determined footsteps echoing his own.
The path beneath them was slick and treacherous, a winding ribbon of mud and rock weaving through the dense foliage. Alex's heart drummed in sync with the rushing rhythm of the rain. The fear in his veins was as icy as the droplets that soaked their clothes, and the steady drum of rain provided a chaotic soundtrack that traced their escape.
Finally, up ahead, was a clearing to the water. He spotted the silhouette of the boat Nico had mentioned. It was tied to a pylon at the end of the beach, bobbing on the restless sea, looking both fragile and steadfast against the dark, churning waves. They ran toward it.
The boat was a small, weather-beaten vessel, its blue paint peeling in places, revealing patches of scarred timber beneath. Alex waded through the turbulent water, his arm securely around Leslie's waist, steadying her against the ferocity of the waves. The water was cold, biting into their skin like a thousand icy needles, the current tugging insistently at their legs. The rain was falling harder now, stinging their faces, soaking through their clothes, adding to the urgency of the situation.
Leslie was trembling, her eyes wide and fearful. He felt her clutching onto him tighter with each crashing wave, her breath hitching in quick, panicked gasps. He tightened his grip on her, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Look at me, Leslie," he commanded over the din of the storm, his voice rough with urgency.
She turned to look at him, and he planted a fierce, desperate kiss on her lips. He wanted to etch himself into her, to leave a piece of him behind, just in case…
He pulled away then hoisted Leslie onto the boat. The vessel rocked under her weight, water spraying over the sides, adding to the chaos of the storm. He steadied her, his hands firm on her arms, his gaze locked with hers.
He handed her Nico’s gun, the cold metal a stark contrast against her trembling hands.
"I don't know how…" she started to protest, her voice barely audible over the storm.
"You point and you pull the trigger, Leslie. Only if you have to," he interrupted, his gaze intense. "Promise me you'll stay here. Promise me."
She nodded, tears streaming down her face, merging with the rain.
I can’t leave her, he thought. But there was no other way. He had to go back, he had to help the others.
He untethered the boat then pushed it deeper into the water, fighting the waves that threatened to carry him away. When she was out far enough, he dived into the churning water, swimming back towards the shore. The sight of Leslie, alone and terrified on the boat, was seared into his mind, fueling his determination. The rain continued to pour, each drop a ticking clock, each flash of lightning a grim reminder of the danger looming ahead.
Minutes seemed hours as he sprinted back towards the house, the stormy sea and the lonely boat fading into the background. Each breath was a fight, each step a battle, his mind a whirl of fear and determination. Alex was in a race against time, the lives of those he cared about hanging in the balance.
His heart beat loud as a drum, but his mind was sharp, focused. Soon, he saw the bodies. Some were Damien’s men, others were strangers. Alex grabbed a gun from one of Damien’s men and quickly inspected it while also scanning his surroundings for any sign of danger.
The sounds of battle could be heard now that he was closer to the house. Screams. Gunshots. Alex's senses were on hyper-alert. He moved away from the sounds of gunfire and entered the house from the other side. He was in the living room when he saw the split-second flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. His body, trained and primed for combat, reacted before his brain could even process it. With a swift, calculated move, he threw himself to the side, barely dodging a bullet that zipped through the space he had just occupied. Then he fired his weapon multiple times, its deafening sound bouncing off the walls of the house. Before the echo of the first gunshot had even died out, he was back on his feet, his gun held steady in his grip. His eyes narrowed on the two intruders sprawled on the floor. Dressed in black tactical gear, their faces were obscured by ski masks, making them anonymous agents of death. Their weapons, a pair of slick, semi-automatic pistols, lay discarded a few feet away.
They were obviously professionals, their swift and coordinated attack pattern, coupled with their choice of weapons, reeked of trained assassins. Alex checked their bodies, but like the Russians back in New York, they carried nothing else on them. Next, he peeled off their ski masks, cursing when he recognized one of the men from when he’d met him almost ten years ago.
Italian mafia.
Either he worked for Luca or he was carrying out some kind of mission against Luca. Given the fact that this operation would obviously put Renee, Luca’s aunt, and his nieces in danger, Alex was betting these soldiers weren’t here by Luca’s command.