Chapter 22 Santino #2
Liana whimpers, a sound of pure terror. Her knees buckle slightly, the man’s arm the only thing keeping her upright.
She looks terrified. Completely undone. Broken.
This is what they've done to her in just a few hours. This is what I let happen by not believing her.
I move to the table and sit down, my hands clenched into fists under the surface.
Roberto sits across from me, casual and relaxed. Like we're discussing a simple contract, not my fiancée's life.
"Here's what's going to happen," he begins, leaning back in his chair.
"The Benedetti family gets full access to port operations.
Twenty percent of all shipping revenue. Complete protection from Costa family interference.
And you back off our operations in the north district. Completely and permanently."
"That's insane. You're asking for half our business."
"That's the deal on the table."
"The Costas will never agree to that. Never."
"Then convince them." He leans back, utterly confident. "Or we start sending pieces of Liana back to her father. Starting with her fingers, moving up to more essential parts."
"Santino!" Liana cries out, her voice high and panicked. "Please! Just give them what they want! Please!"
She's sobbing now, hysterical, her whole body shaking violently.
The man holding her looks annoyed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Shut up—"
"I can't—I can't breathe—" Liana gasps, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow. "I can't—"
"I said shut up!" He shakes her roughly.
"Please—I need—I can't—"
Her eyes roll back in her head. Her knees give out completely. She drops like a stone, becoming dead weight in his arms.
He wasn't expecting it, wasn't prepared for her full weight. His grip loosens for just a second as he tries to keep her from hitting the floor.
Just one second.
But it's enough.
Liana's eyes snap open, suddenly clear and focused. She's not fainting. She was never fainting. Her body twists with fluid grace, fast and controlled. Like she's done this exact move a thousand times in training.
Her hands shoot up and grab his wrist—the one holding the gun. She yanks it down sharply, toward her body, away from her head. At the same time, she steps into him, where he can't leverage his size advantage. Drives her elbow up with vicious precision into his throat.
He chokes, staggers backward, his grip on the gun loosening.
The weapon comes free in her hands.
And suddenly—impossibly—Liana has the weapon.
She spins him around, puts him between her and Roberto's men as a human shield. Presses the barrel against his temple.
Exactly where his gun was pressed against hers thirty seconds ago.
"Nobody fucking move," she says.
Her voice isn't scared anymore. It's not hysterical or broken.
It's cold. Steady. Deadly calm.
Everyone freezes, shocked into immobility. The entire room goes silent except for the man’s labored breathing.
Liana—crying, terrified, helpless Liana—now has a gun to his head.
And she looks like she knows exactly how to use it. Looks like she's done this before.
"Liana—" Roberto starts, his confidence cracking.
"I said don't move." She tightens her grip on the man. He's taller than her, bigger, but she has him completely controlled. "Hands where I can see them. All of you. Now."
Roberto’s men hesitate, looking to their boss for direction.
"NOW!" she shouts, the command echoing off the walls.
They raise their hands slowly, reluctantly.
I'm frozen in place, staring at her in shock.
This isn't the Liana I know. This isn't the girl who jumped out of my moving car. Who ate my steak. Who played helpless and silly and sweet.
This is someone else entirely. Someone I've never seen before.
"You're going to let us walk out of here," Liana says to Roberto, her voice not shaking at all. "Santino and me. We're leaving together. And if anyone follows us, if anyone even thinks about pulling a trigger, I blow this man’s brains all over this warehouse. Do you understand me?"
Roberto stares at her, his mind clearly calculating odds and options.
"You won't shoot him," he says finally, trying to sound confident. "You're not a killer. You're just a scared girl. Put the gun down."
Liana's eyes shift, locking onto one of Roberto’s men standing near the back. The youngest one. Not family. Just hired muscle.
"You're right," she says with unsettling calm. "I won't shoot him."
Then she pivots with explosive speed. Aims at the young guy's knee. And pulls the trigger without hesitation.
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space, making my ears ring. The man screams and goes down hard, clutching his knee.
Blood spreads rapidly across the concrete floor.
Liana swings the gun back to the man’s head before anyone can react, before anyone can move.
"But I'll shoot everyone else in this room if I have to," she finishes, her voice still perfectly steady. Like she didn't just put a bullet in someone. "Still think I'm not a killer?"
Roberto’s face darkens with rage and something else—maybe respect. “You think you’re walking out of here? You think—"
“I don’t think,” Liana cuts him off sharply. “I know. Because you’re not stupid enough to let your nephew die over pride.”
Nephew.
The man she’s holding is his nephew. Family.
That changes everything about this equation.
"Let him go," Roberto says quietly, his voice tight. "And I let you go. Even trade."
"No trade." Liana's voice is steel. "You're going to let us both go. Santino walks out first. I follow with your nephew. When we're clear of the building, I let him go."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you explain to your sister how her son died because you were too proud to back down from a negotiation."
Silence stretches between them, tense and dangerous.
Roberto looks at me, at Liana, at his nephew with the gun pressed to his head. Finally, he nods to his men. "Stand down. All of you."
They lower their weapons slowly, reluctantly.
"Santino," Liana says without taking her eyes off Roberto. "Move toward me. Now."
I stand and move toward her, my mind still trying to process what I'm seeing.
"Not too close," she warns me. "Stay where I can see you and watch the room too."
I stop, staring at her. Who the hell is this woman? How did I not see this?
"Move to the door," she instructs. "Slowly. Open it. Check the hallway for threats."
I do exactly what she says, my body moving on autopilot.
The hallway is clear.
She starts backing toward me, dragging the man with her. "Stay behind me. If anyone moves, I want to see it coming."
We move like that—slowly, carefully, every step measured.
Roberto and his men watching, calculating whether they can make a move.
At the door, Liana pauses. "Tell your men outside to back off," she says. "Or your nephew dies in the stairwell."
Roberto pulls out his phone and makes a call. "Fall back," he says into it. "Let them go."
“Hands high—no one steps onto the stairs,” Liana orders. She waits, listening intently for any sounds of movement, then nods. "Let's go."
We move into the hallway, then down the metal stairs. Each step clangs loudly. At every moment, I expect gunfire. Expect this fragile situation to fall apart into chaos.
But it doesn't.
At the ground floor, Liana stops. "This is where we part ways," she says almost pleasantly. Then she brings the gun down hard on the back of his head.
He drops hard, unconscious before he hits the floor.
"Run," she says to me.