27. Gilly
Gilly
There’s a moment before disaster strikes. A stillness. A breath. The kind of quiet that feels wrong. Deadly.
I feel it before I hear the door creak open.
Rafa stirs slightly in my arms, his tiny fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. I press my lips to his temple, inhaling the soft, familiar scent of him. It should calm me. It doesn’t.
Something is wrong.
I shift on the couch, tightening my hold on Rafa as I listen. The safehouse is quiet, but this silence feels different. It’s the kind that coils around my ribs, squeezing until my breath comes too shallow.
Then, the sound comes again.
A creak.
Soft. Measured.
The front door.
I freeze.
My pulse slams into overdrive, my skin going cold. Luca and Matteo should be here by now. They should have called.
But deep down, I already know.
It’s not Luca or Matteo.
The doorknob turns fully this time, slow and deliberate. My stomach drops. I push to my feet, holding Rafa closer, his warm cheek pressing against my collarbone. He doesn’t stir, still lost in sleep.
Run.
The instinct is primal, but my legs don’t move fast enough. I glance at the back hallway. Maybe I can slip into one of the rooms, barricade the door, buy time until—
The door swings open.
And he’s there.
Renzo.
I suck in a sharp breath.
He shouldn’t be standing. He shouldn’t be alive.
But he is.
His suit is torn, the fabric soaked in blood at his side. His face is pale, gaunt, a dark smear of dried crimson cutting from his temple down his jaw. His eyes burn fever-bright, unfocused and dangerous.
A gun dangles from his fingers.
His lips curl into a slow, twisted smirk.
“Did you really think this was over, little lawyer?”
My lungs squeeze tight.
Rafa shifts again, murmuring something in his sleep, completely unaware of the danger standing in front of us.
Renzo’s eyes flick to him.
And my body locks up.
No.
Not my son.
I swallow hard, adjusting my grip on Rafa as I take a slow step back. My mind races. Think, Gilly. Think. There’s a knife in the kitchen. A gun in the drawer by the bed. But I won’t reach either in time.
I need to keep him talking.
I force my voice steady. “Get out.”
Renzo chuckles, amused, like this is a game.
“You know,” he muses, tilting his head slightly, “I almost didn’t come here. I figured, what’s the point? I’m already dead, right?” He lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head. “But then I thought… no. No, that’s not enough. If I have to die, I should take something with me.”
His grip on the gun tightens.
And he takes a slow step forward.
My breath shudders.
“Luca is coming,” I warn, my voice sharp. “He’s on his way.”
Renzo grins. “Good.”
Another step.
I step back.
We’re running out of space.
The walls feel like they’re closing in, and Rafa’s weight in my arms is the only thing keeping me grounded.
“Did you think he’d save you?” Renzo continues, almost conversationally. “That he’d be different? That Marchesi blood isn’t all the same?” His gaze sharpens. “Tell me, little lawyer. Do you still see the man who promised to protect you? Or do you see what he really is?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t know.
I grip Rafa tighter. My fingers tremble against his back.
Then—
Tires screech outside.
Renzo’s head jerks toward the sound.
The SUV slams to a stop.
The front door bursts open.
Luca.
The moment he steps into the room, his gun is locked on Renzo, his stance sharp, controlled. His breathing is even, but I see the tension rippling through his body, the way his shoulders coil, his muscles taut with restraint.
His gaze flicks to me—to Rafa in my arms—then back to Renzo.
“Step away from them.”
His voice is ice, calm and deadly, but Renzo just smirks, taking a slow step back. He lifts his free hand slightly, mock surrender, but his fingers still clutch the gun at his side.
“You took your time, Marchesi,” he taunts, his voice hoarse but laced with amusement.
Luca doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
“You shouldn’t be standing,” he says flatly.
Renzo huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well. I don’t stay down easy.” His bloodshot eyes flicker with something dark. Something final. “Neither do you.”
Luca cocks the hammer back on his gun.
“This time, you will.”
The room is charged, a breath from exploding.
Renzo watches him carefully, his weight shifting just slightly, like he’s testing the space between them. My arms tighten around Rafa instinctively, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Luca could end this now.
One shot. That’s all it would take.
But Renzo knows that too.
And the bastard is smiling.
"You won’t do it," he murmurs, voice like a blade, slicing through the tension.
Luca’s expression doesn’t change. “Try me.”
But Renzo only tilts his head, his smirk widening.
"You hesitate." He lets the words hang in the air, pushing against the moment. "Even now. Even after everything. Because you know, deep down, I’m not the only monster in the room.”
Luca’s grip tightens.
And for the first time—he hesitates.
I see it.
A flicker of something in his eyes, something too quick to name. A shadow. A memory.
I don’t know what he’s thinking, but Renzo sees it too.
And that’s all he needs.
He moves—
Fast.
His gun snaps up, aiming straight at Luca—
A shot rings out.
My breath locks in my throat.
But it’s not Luca who fired.
Renzo jerks violently, his body spasming as blood blooms across his chest. His smirk finally falters, his mouth parting in shock, confusion.
Slowly, his body sways.
Then—he collapses.
A heavy silence falls over the room.
My pulse roars in my ears.
Luca exhales, lowering his gun slightly—but he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.
Behind Renzo, Matteo stands, swaying slightly, gun still raised.
His hands are shaking. His breathing is rough. His face is pale, slick with sweat and blood.
But his aim was perfect.
His voice is hoarse, raw, but full of finality.
"This is for everything you took from us."
Renzo exhales sharply—then he stops.
Completely still.
Dead.
Matteo lets out a ragged breath, his body sagging against the wall as his knees threaten to buckle.
Luca is on him in seconds.
I watch, still frozen, still holding Rafa too tightly, as Luca grabs Matteo’s arm, steadying him before he collapses.
For a moment, neither of them speak.
Then Luca exhales, voice rough, edged with something unreadable.
“You idiot.”
Matteo huffs a weak laugh. “You’re welcome.”
Luca shakes his head, gripping the back of Matteo’s neck, his fingers pressing hard, grounding. Matteo leans into it slightly, like he’s drawing strength from his brother’s touch.
Then, finally, Luca turns, his gaze finding mine.
And everything inside me unravels.
It’s over.
But I don’t feel relief.
I don’t feel anything at all.
My arms are locked around Rafa, holding him too tightly, his small weight the only thing keeping me from crumbling. I can’t tear my eyes away from Renzo’s corpse, from the way his fingers are still curled around his gun, as if even in death, he refuses to let go of his war.
Luca exhales, long and slow, his grip still tight on Matteo, holding him upright. But Matteo is fading fast.
I snap out of my daze just in time to see his knees give out.
“Matteo!” I shift, but Luca moves first, catching his brother before he hits the floor.
Matteo groans, his face twisting in pain, his body going slack in Luca’s arms.
Luca grits his teeth. “Stay with me, damn it.”
Matteo blinks sluggishly, barely able to hold his head up. “M’tired.”
Luca’s jaw clenches. “I don’t care.” He adjusts his grip, lifting Matteo’s arm over his shoulder, but Matteo sways, barely conscious. “We need to get him out of here.”
I shake off the last of my shock, shifting Rafa in my arms before stepping closer. “The bedroom—get him on the bed. I have supplies in there.”
Luca nods sharply and starts moving. Matteo doesn’t fight him—he doesn’t have the strength to.
I trail after them, my pulse hammering as we pass Renzo’s body. I don’t look down. I can’t.
Matteo groans again as Luca lowers him onto the bed, his head lolling to the side. His breathing is too shallow, his skin too pale beneath the dim lighting. Blood soaks through his clothes, through the bandages he never should’ve ripped open in the first place.
I place Rafa down gently on the chair in the corner, covering him with a blanket. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.
Then I turn back to Luca and Matteo.
Luca is already pressing down on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding, his expression tight with frustration.
I grab the medical supplies from the dresser and kneel beside the bed. “Move.”
Luca doesn’t hesitate. He shifts back, but his hands stay close, hovering protectively as I start working.
Matteo grits his teeth as I press a clean gauze pad against the wound. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice hoarse.
“Stay still,” I order, my hands steady even though my heart is racing.
His lips twitch faintly. “You’re bossy.”
I don’t humor him with a response.
Luca watches in silence as I work, his eyes unreadable. I don’t have to look at him to know what’s going through his head.
Guilt.
He thinks this is his fault.
And maybe it is.
But there’s no time for that now.
Matteo groans again as I tighten the bandage around his shoulder. “You’re worse than a goddamn nurse,” he mutters.
Luca exhales sharply. “Shut up, Matteo.”
Matteo huffs a weak chuckle. “Not a chance.”
But his bravado doesn’t last long. His eyelids flicker, and his breathing slows even more. My chest tightens.
“He needs a hospital,” I say, my voice low.
Luca shakes his head. “No hospitals. We don’t know who’s still loyal to Renzo.”
I bite my lip. He’s right.
I press my fingers to Matteo’s pulse. Still there. Still steady enough.
But if he gets worse—
I force the thought away.
Luca drags a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “We need to leave. Now.”
I nod.
We don’t belong here anymore.
This place—this war—it’s done.
And so is Renzo.
Luca moves toward the door, but I hesitate, glancing down at Renzo.
His lifeless eyes are still open, his smirk forever frozen in place. Blood pools beneath him, seeping into the cracks of the wooden floor.
The victory feels final.
Like we’ll never step foot in this house again.
Maybe we won’t.
Rafa murmurs softly in his sleep, and my heart clenches.
Luca watches me, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long moment, he steps closer, his hand pressing lightly against the small of my back.
“Come on,” he murmurs.
I exhale, nodding once.
Then I follow him out of the room.