Chapter 12
Between Life and Death
Enzo gritted his teeth as he yanked the wheel to the right, the tires screeching against the pavement as the car veered sharply down an empty side street. The roar of the engine echoed in the night as he pushed the car to its limits, weaving through darkened alleys and deserted roads. Headlights flared behind them, their pursuers relentless, the distant wail of sirens cutting through the air like a blade.
A black SUV surged forward, gaining on them. Gunfire erupted, bullets pinging off the trunk and shattering the rear windshield. Julian ducked, shielding the wounded man slumped beside him as shards of glass rained down.
“Enzo, they’re getting too close!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the roaring engine.
“I fucking know that!” Enzo growled, jerking the wheel hard to avoid a row of dumpsters. The car fishtailed wildly, nearly clipping a parked van before he regained control. He stomped on the gas, tires spinning, the smell of burnt rubber filling the air.
The SUV wasn’t backing down. It swerved into their lane, attempting to ram them. Enzo braced himself and at the last second, wrenched the car left. The side mirror clipped a mailbox, sending sparks flying, but he kept going, threading through narrow streets in a desperate attempt to shake them.
Another SUV screeched into the alley from the opposite side.
“Shit!” Julian clutched the wounded man as Enzo slammed the brakes, barely avoiding a head-on collision. The pursuing vehicle skidded sideways, its front bumper smashing into a streetlamp. Enzo didn’t wait; he jammed the car into reverse, tires squealing as he backed out, then spun the wheel and punched the gas again.
Bullets tore through the air, punching holes into the rear quarter panel. The engine rattled, a sick grinding noise coming from under the hood, but the car pushed on.
“We’re not gonna make it like this,” Julian muttered, his knuckles white.
“Hold on,” Enzo snarled.
He spotted a narrow path between two crumbling buildings, barely wide enough for their car. It was a risk, but their only shot. He jerked the wheel, forcing the car through, metal screeching as the sides scraped against concrete. The SUV behind them wasn’t as lucky; when it tried to follow, it crashed hard, wedging itself between the buildings.
Enzo didn’t waste time celebrating. Ahead, an abandoned warehouse loomed, its rusted gates slightly ajar. Without hesitation, he swerved into the lot, tires bouncing over cracked pavement and weeds. The vehicle jolted violently as it cleared the entrance, then skidded to a stop amidst scattered debris.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Julian’s pulse pounded in his ears as he strained to listen beyond the car, his breath held tight in his chest. Enzo’s fingers gripped the wheel, knuckles white, his sharp green eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.
Minutes passed. Still, no one came.
Enzo exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. Without a word, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He pressed it to his ear, his expression unreadable as he listened to the ringing.
“Get to my location now,” he said when the call connected, his voice low and edged with command. “Bring the men.”
Julian barely paid attention, already tearing at his shirt, fingers fumbling as he ripped a strip of fabric free. He pressed it against the driver’s wound, his hands firm despite the tremor running through them. Blood soaked through the material too quickly, and he pressed harder, his jaw clenched in frustration.
“Stay with me,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at the driver’s ashen face. “Just hold on.”
Enzo ended the call and turned toward them, his gaze flickering between Julian and the driver. Something unreadable passed over his face, but he said nothing. Instead, he reached for the glove compartment, pulling out a spare gun, checking the magazine with practiced ease.
“Now what?” Julian asked.
“We wait,” he murmured, voice steady despite the tension in his posture. “And if anyone shows up before my brothers do, we don’t ask questions.”
Julian swallowed hard, his fingers still pressed against the makeshift bandage, his heart thundering in his chest. The night wasn’t over yet.
???
The driver groaned, his breath shallow and uneven as he shifted slightly in the back seat. His face was pale, almost ghostly under the dim glow of the overhead light, beads of sweat dotting his forehead like dew on a cold morning. His skin was clammy, his body trembling as he fought against the pull of unconsciousness. Each rise and fall of his chest was labored, the sound of his breathing wet and ragged, a grim reminder of the bullet lodged somewhere deep in his abdomen. Still, despite the pain, he tried to speak. His lips parted, his voice barely more than a rasp, weak and broken.
"Boss... I... I’m sorry... I should have..."
"No." Enzo’s response was immediate, cutting through the weak apology like a blade. His green eyes, usually cold and calculating, softened just a fraction as he leaned slightly closer. The shadows cast by the dim light made the sharp angles of his face even more pronounced, but for once, the sharpness in his expression wasn’t from anger or control; it was something else. Something raw.
"You did nothing wrong. Save your strength. Help is coming."
Julian stilled; his hands still pressed down on the blood-soaked fabric wrapped around the driver’s wound. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, thick and suffocating, and Julian could feel the warmth of it seeping through the makeshift bandage, sticky and unrelenting. He hadn’t expected that. Not from Enzo.
A man like him, ruthless, powerful, dangerous, was supposed to be indifferent to loss, to weakness. A man like him didn’t comfort, didn’t offer reassurance in a voice low and steady, free of judgment or scorn.
And yet, here he was, shutting down a dying man’s guilt with quiet assurance, with something dangerously close to compassion.
Julian swallowed hard; his throat dry as he watched the exchange with a strange sense of unease. It was disorienting, seeing Enzo like this, stripped of the ironclad walls he always seemed to have around him. There was no mockery, no frustration, just an unshakable steadiness. He didn’t speak to the driver like a man who had failed him, but like someone who deserved to be saved. And that... that didn’t fit with the image Julian had built of him.
The driver’s breathing hitched, a wet, gurgling sound that made Julian’s stomach turn. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he forced them open again, his entire body shuddering. "I..."
"Enough," Enzo murmured, and this time, there was no sharpness in his voice. Just quiet command, laced with something almost gentle. "Just hold on. That’s an order."
Julian exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him like a stone in his chest. He had been so sure that Enzo was nothing more than the hardened criminal he portrayed himself to be. That his presence in Julian’s life was nothing but a force of coercion and power. But now... now he wasn’t so certain.
And that unsettled him more than anything else.
The car was silent except for the driver’s ragged breathing and the faint hum of the engine. Julian’s hands were slick with blood, his fingers trembling slightly as he adjusted the pressure on the wound. He could feel the driver’s pulse weakening beneath his touch, the life slowly draining out of him despite Julian’s best efforts.
He wanted to say something, to offer some kind of reassurance, but the words caught in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That help would come in time? He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself.
Enzo’s gaze flicked to Julian; his expression unreadable. “Can you save him?”
Julian hesitated, his mind racing. He wanted to say yes, to promise that he could fix this, but the truth was, he didn’t know. The wound was bad; too much blood loss, too little time. “I’ll do everything I can,” he said finally, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.
Enzo nodded, his jaw tightening as he turned back to the driver. “You hear that? The doc’s going to fix you up. Just hold on a little longer.”
The driver’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face before it was replaced by a grimace of pain. His hand twitched, reaching weakly for Enzo’s, and for a moment, Julian thought Enzo might pull away. But instead, he took the driver’s hand in his own, his grip firm but gentle.
“You’re family,” Enzo said, his voice low and steady. “I don’t leave family behind.”
Julian’s breath caught in his throat, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had seen Enzo as a monster, a man who ruled through fear and intimidation. But now, for the first time, he was starting to suspect that it was a mask.
The driver’s grip tightened for a moment before his hand went limp, his eyes fluttering shut. Julian’s heart sank, but he didn’t stop working, his hands moving with a desperate urgency. He couldn’t lose him. Not like this.
“Stay with me,” Julian muttered, more to himself than to the driver. “Just stay with me.”
Enzo watched in silence; his expression unreadable. But Julian could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his emotions in check. For a man who prided himself on control, this was a rare moment of vulnerability, one that Julian couldn’t ignore.
The sound of approaching cars broke the silence, and Julian felt a flicker of hope. Help was coming. But as he looked down at the driver’s pale, lifeless face, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it might already be too late.
Enzo’s hand tightened around the driver’s, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not done yet. Not yet.”
Julian didn’t respond. He just kept pressing, his hands shaking as he did so. He couldn’t lose him. Not like this.
And as the cars grew louder, Julian couldn’t help but wonder if he was seeing the real Enzo for the first time, a man who carried the weight of an empire on his shoulders, who did what he had to do to protect the people who relied on him.
And the worst part? He didn’t hate that man.