Chapter 21
Twenty-One
L eone
The moment I cross the threshold of the mansion, rage courses through my veins like wildfire. The image of Fallon outside, naked, terrified, and clinging to my father, haunts me with every step. Her tear-streaked face, her trembling form—this isn’t fear I can ignore. This isn’t something I’ll allow to go unpunished.
“Dante!” I bellow my voice reverberating off the walls as I storm through the corridors. Fallon trails behind with my father, clutching his arm as if it’s her only lifeline. She’s barely keeping up, her fear hanging heavy in the air. But she’s safe now, and my concern for her is only eclipsed by the white-hot fury boiling within me.
Dante emerges from the main hallway, his posture relaxed, and wearing a twisted sneer as he watches me approach. The sight of his smug expression is enough to send my temper flaring dangerously close to the edge.
“You bastard!” I roar, charging at him. My fist connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack, sending him staggering back. But I don’t stop there. I grab him by the collar, slamming him against the nearest wall with enough force to rattle the paintings hanging there.
“Where the fuck is Milo?” I growl, my voice low and deadly as I press my forearm against his throat, cutting off his air. “Where is he, Dante?”
Dante struggles beneath my hold, his hands clawing at my arm, but I press harder, my anger giving me strength. “He was fucking your wife, Leone,” he chokes out, his voice rasping. “You brought a whore into this family, and he betrayed you with her.”
My father steps forward, his face a mask of confusion and concern. “Leone, what’s going on? What has Dante done?”
“He’s crossed a line,” I snap, not taking my eyes off Dante’s face, which is beginning to turn an alarming shade of red. “He’s fucking crossed a line, and I’m going to make him pay for it.”
“Leone, stop!” My father demands, his voice sharp as he places a hand on my shoulder, trying to pull me away from Dante. “This isn’t the way to handle this!”
But I’m beyond reasoning. The only thing I can think about is Milo—my brother in all but blood—being harmed because of Dante’s petty jealousy.
“Where is he?” I demand again, my grip tightening as I shake Dante, making his head snap back against the wall. “Tell me where he is, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you right here.”
“Basement,” Dante gasps, his voice barely more than a wheeze. “He’s in the basement… with Lorenzo.”
The mention of Lorenzo sends a fresh wave of fury through me. I release Dante, letting him slump to the floor, gasping for air. Without another word, I spin on my heel and storm toward the basement, my father following close behind, shouting my name.
But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not until I see Milo with my own eyes.
The air grows colder as I descend the stairs to the basement, the walls closing in around me. The sounds of fists meeting flesh grow louder with each step, echoing off the stone walls. My blood turns to ice as I realize what I’m about to walk into.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I find the door already ajar. The sight that greets me as I push it open makes my heart stop.
Milo is on the ground, bloodied and barely conscious, while Lorenzo stands over him, his fists drenched in Milo’s blood. The cold detachment in Lorenzo’s eyes as he delivers blow after blow ignites something primal in me.
Without hesitation, I draw my gun, the metal cool against my palm as I level it at Lorenzo’s head. “Step away from him, now.”
Lorenzo pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. There’s a brief flash of surprise in his gaze, but it quickly hardens into something else—something deadly. He smirks, taking a step back as if daring me to pull the trigger.
And I do.
The gunshot echoes through the dungeon, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Lorenzo crumples to the floor, lifeless, his blood pooling around him.
I won’t spare him another glance. My focus is entirely on Milo, who lies motionless on the cold stone floor. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest as I drop to my knees beside him.
“Milo,” I murmur, my voice rough with emotion as I reach out to touch his face, wincing at the sight of the damage Lorenzo’s fists have wrought. “Milo, can you hear me?”
Milo’s eyes flutter open, his gaze unfocused as he tries to focus on my face. “Leone,” he rasps, his voice weak but alive. Relief floods through me, but it’s quickly tempered by the anger that still simmers just beneath the surface. My father steps into the room and takes in the sight of his dead man beside Milo.
“What the fuck!” he roars as I help Milo sit up. Fallon stumbles in and shrieks, rushing to Milo’s side.
“I’m okay, bella,” Milo tells her, his voice strained, but he manages a small smile for her.
“You would seriously take the side of the man fucking your wife?” Dante spits, stepping into the room.
I don’t hesitate. I’m on him in an instant, my fist connecting with his jaw once more, sending him crashing to the ground. I’m on top of him, raining down punches with all the fury I can muster. My father rushes forward, trying to pull me off, but I’m too far gone, too consumed by the need to make Dante pay.
“Leone, stop!” my father yells, his voice barely penetrating the red haze clouding my vision. “You’re going to kill him!”
“Good,” I growl, my voice raw with emotion as I deliver another brutal punch to Dante’s face. “He deserves to die for this!”
My father finally manages to wedge himself between us, forcing me back. Dante is left lying on the ground, blood dripping from his mouth, his eyes wide with shock and fear.
“You killed my right-hand man over your boy fucking your wife?” my father demands, his voice shaking with anger as he glares at me.
“We share her!” I roar back, shoving him away from me. The words hang in the air, heavy with implications.
My father’s face contorts in disgust, his eyes narrowing as he looks between me, Milo, and Fallon. “You share her?” he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief and revulsion. “What the hell has gotten into you, Leone?”
“She’s ours,” I state, my voice firm as I step back, straightening my posture. “Milo and I share her—something you wouldn’t understand.”
Dante, still on the ground, wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression twisting with fury. “You’re sick,” he spits, his voice hoarse. “Both of you. She’s nothing but a whore, and you’re choosing her over family.”
Dante’s vile words set something off in me, and I move to lunge at him again. But my father steps between us, his hand on my chest, pushing me back, but I pull my gun, pointing it at Dante’s face.
“Leone, no!” My father’s voice cuts through the red haze of my anger. He steps forward, placing a hand on my arm, his grip firm but not forceful. “He’s your brother.”
“He’s a fucking traitor,” I snap, my voice shaking with the force of my anger.
“And killing him won’t solve anything,” my father counters, his voice calm, but there’s an edge to it, a warning. “You kill him, and you start a war within our own family. Are you ready for that?”
“Are you truly that blind father? We’ve been at war for years already!” I snarl at him just as Dante tries to rush out but I move quickly, my father unable to react fast enough. I grab him, tossing him to the floor.
Dante’s eyes dart between our father and me, panic starting to seep through his bravado. “You’re really going to kill your own brother?” he taunts, but I can hear the underlying fear in his voice as he scrambles away from me.
“You are not my brother!” I yell at him and he goes to speak.
Only, I’ve had enough of his fucking voice. Rage coils in my chest, burning hotter and hotter until I can’t contain it anymore. I pull the knife from my boot without a second thought, and he scrambles away but my foot connects with his face and my father sighs heavily behind me.
“Jesus christ, Leone,” he groans. Dante whimpers, clutching his bleeding nose, before he can say a thing though my hand is around his throat pinning him to the floor.
“Leone!” My father’s voice echoes behind me. I ignore him.
“You interfered where you had no place, put your filthy hands on my wife and hurt my brother?” I growl, pressing my knee harder into his chest to keep him pinned. Dante’s breath hitches as his eyes dart to the blade by his face.
“Leone, stop!” My father yells, but his voice is easily ignored by the sound of my blood roaring in my ears. He doesn’t understand. He never does. He always chooses Dante’s side. But I won’t let him off so easily this time.
Dante thrashes beneath me, his smugness gone. “You’re fucking insane!” he spits, his voice breaking as panic takes hold.
I grab his jaw and force him to look at me. “Did you really think I would choose your side over them after everything you’ve done?” I laugh, pressing the knife to his cheek, just below his cheekbone, and dig the tip in. The blade bites into his skin. Blood wells instantly, trailing hot and fast down his face.
Dante’s scream tears through the room, but I don’t stop. I drag the knife downward in a slow, deliberate line, making sure it’ll scar as I carve a huge F in the side of his face. “You made her bleed, be grateful I don’t bleed you out!”
“Leone, enough!” my father shouts, grabbing my shoulder. I shrug him off without taking my eyes off Dante.
“No, he is going to remember this, every fucking time he sees his reflection,” I hiss, my voice trembling with fury. “Every time you open your fucking mouth, you’ll think of me.” My father paces clutching his hair, he knows this has been a long time coming. Dante has pushed me too far this time.
“Not his face Leone, if you need blood take it but leave his fucking face,” my father pleads.
Dante sobs beneath me, his hands clawing at my arms like a pathetic animal. I shift the blade to his other cheek, and for a moment, I hesitate—not because I feel any guilt, but because I want this to last. So I carve an M in his cheek so he never forgets why I branded him. “That one is for Milo,” I sneer.
My father shoves at my arm. “Leone! He’s your brother!”
I laugh, a low, bitter sound. “Milo is my brother. The only one who matters. Dante is nothing but vermin.”
The knife slices through his other cheek in one smooth motion. Dante’s scream is weaker this time, his body shaking violently beneath me.
I wipe the blade on his shirt and lean in close, close enough that he can feel my breath against his blood-slick face. “You’ll never touch them again. Do you hear me?” I say quietly, my voice deadly calm. “Never.”
He nods, his face barely recognizable from all the blood and I stand up. My father steps between us, his hands on my chest, trying to push me back. “Leone, enough! You’ve made your point!”
I stand, towering over Dante’s crumpled form. He’s a bloody mess, his face carved up, his breaths shallow and wheezing.
“And this is the man you want to hand our empire over to father, look at what he did to my fucking face!”
“Shut up, Dante,” I growl, pulling my gun. My father looks torn as he stares between us and then at his man dead at our feet.
“He killed Lorenzo!” Dante says and I lift my gun to his head.
“And you’ll be next if you don’t shut up!” I tell him, pressing the barrel of the gun against his forehead. My finger tightens on the trigger, and every muscle in my body is coiled, ready to end this once and for all.
“Leone, think about what you’re doing,” my father urges, his voice low and insistent. “You’re angry, I get that. But this is not the way.”
I can feel the weight of my father’s gaze, the pressure to make the right decision. But what is the right decision? How do I choose between the family I was born into and the family I’ve built with Milo and Fallon?
The gun feels heavy in my hand, the cold metal presses against Dante’s skin. He’s shaking now, he knows our father won’t save him. But he doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t beg for his life. Instead, he glares at me with a hatred that matches my own.
“Do it,” Dante spits, his voice trembling with rage and fear. “Prove you would choose him over family.”
But the thought of letting him live, of letting him get away with what he’s done to Milo, to Fallon—it makes my blood boil.
“Leone,” My father’s voice is softer now, almost pleading. “Please. Don’t do this. Your mother would be devastated, I just got her back to a good place.”
I close my eyes, the tension in my body reaching a breaking point. Then, with a guttural growl, I lower the gun. I don’t release it, my knuckles white with the force of my grip, but I don’t fire.
Dante exhales shakily, relief washing over his face, but I’m not done with him. I take a step back, shoving the gun into its holster and grabbing Dante by the collar, dragging him toward the basement door.
“You’re done,” I hiss, my voice low and dangerous. “Get the fuck out of my house. If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head.”
“Leone—” Dante starts, but I cut him off with a brutal punch to the face, the impact sending him staggering back into the wall.
“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you,” I snarl. “You’re lucky I’m letting you walk out of here alive.”
Dante glares at me, his eyes full of hatred, but he doesn’t argue. He knows I’m serious.
“Enough!” my father shouts, his voice booming in the small space. “This ends now. Dante, leave before I let Leone finish what he started. Go try take care of that fucking face before it scars.” It will scar, I made sure of it, even the best doctors will struggle to erase that from his face.
Dante glares at me, his eyes filled with hatred, but he knows better than to challenge our father. With a final sneer, he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.
As he disappears, the tension in the room slowly begins to dissipate, but the damage has been done. My father looks at me, disappointment and disgust written all over his face.
“This isn’t over,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous. “We will talk about this, Leone. But right now…” his gaze to Fallon and Milo behind me, he sneers but looks at me.
“I’ll send someone for Lorenzo,” he tells me.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I turn back to Milo, who’s trying to stand with Fallon’s help. He’s battered and bruised, but he’s alive. That’s all that matters.
Without another word, I help Milo to his feet and lead him out of the dungeon, my father’s gaze burning into my back as we leave. This isn’t over—far from it. But for now, all I care about is getting Milo out of here and making sure he’s safe.