A line of light entering the claustrophobic cell through a slit under the door is my focus point. Curling in the corner, I hug my knees, rocking back and forth. The room is cold, the floor damp. The stifling stench of wet concrete and mold makes me nauseous.
A tray with food Luca brought when he threw me in here sits where he left it, untouched. A cockroach swims in the watery oatmeal, struggling to escape the confinement of a metal bowl. His attempts are desperate, as if he mocks me for giving up. I accepted my destiny. I’m waiting for death to arrive, the Grim Reaper in a black leather jacket with Dante’s face, a gun in his hand instead of a scythe. He has every right to kill me. My father won’t come to my rescue; his triumph is the only acceptable outcome. Saving me means defeat, and Frank is too proud to go down without a fight.
The surrounding four walls will be my prison until my body gives up from tiredness, thirst, or hunger. Or until a bullet penetrates my head or heart. Frank won’t give Dante the North regardless of how much hurt Dante can bring upon him. Even if he kills me, Jess, and his men. Until Frank is no longer breathing, North will remain under his command.
I rest my forehead on my knees. There’s no sleeping in this place. I’m exhausted, but fear keeps me alert. Unwanted pictures of the moments I spent with Dante flood my mind whenever I close my eyes. I remember every touch of his lips, every night spent in his arms, every look of his green eyes, and I loathe myself more with every second.
Heavy footsteps echo outside the door, clapping loudly in the still, silent space. My heart tries to make a run for it, climbing to my throat. I squeeze into the corner, trembling and hiding the bandaged hand to protect my remaining fingers. I jump, startled by the sound of keys hitting the concrete floor.
“Fuck,” Luca clips.
Apart from the bowl, the cockroach, and the tray, nothing around could be used as a weapon. No hole to hide in. The door swings open with a loud creak letting bright light filter inside the room. My fear threatens to turn into a full-blown panic attack at the sight of the cigar cutter in Luca’s hand.
“Eenie, meenie, miny, mo. Which finger will you give up voluntarily, Layla?” He basks in his power, smiling maniacally.
I can’t speak, move, or force my eyes shut.
I don’t want to see or feel, and I no longer want to live.
“I’m kidding. You can keep your fingers.”
My eyes dart to his face. He’d only spare me if Frank surrendered to Dante. That’s not possible.
Had Dante changed his mind? Is he allowing me to leave? Or maybe he wants to talk before he decides what to do? Or maybe Frank is dead…
Luca crouches beside me, tearing my hand from behind my back. “The dressing needs changing, but it’ll have to wait. Boss wants to talk to you. I’ll go get him. Make yourself presentable.” He turns to leave when a gun goes off in the distance. “Shit.” He looks into the corridor, a gun in hand.
The acoustic warehouse fills with screams. More shots are fired, the noise ricocheting off the walls.
Luca grabs my arm and drags me in front of him like a human shield, one hand across my stomach. He presses the cool gun to my temple, pushing me out of the room. We turn left, and the subsequent shots seem to come from different directions as if we’re in the middle of the shootout.
“Luca!” Dante booms far behind us.
And instead of fear, I feel relieved.
Something in the tone of his voice doesn’t match the situation. He doesn’t sound as if he’s calling him over. He sounds as if he wants to tear him apart.
I stop in my tracks, watching the pieces fall into place before my eyes. “Dante didn’t tell you to bring me here,” I mumble to myself, “This place, my finger… it wasn’t Dante’s orders! He doesn’t know.”
Luca shoves at me, so I’ll move, but my legs are glued to the spot. “No, he doesn’t. Not yet, but he’ll find out soon enough. Get moving. It’s almost over.”
I spin to look at him, ignoring the gun pointed at my head. “You work for Frank!” I yell, and Luca covers my mouth.
“Luca!” Dante booms again, closer this time.
“Yes, I work for Frank, you dumb bitch. Now move!”
I shove his hand away from my mouth. “That’s why you watched over me,” I mutter. Swelling at the thought that Frank had gone to extreme lengths to keep me safe while I fulfilled the plan. “You were supposed to keep me safe.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Luca snaps. “I was supposed to make you more believable and help if you started screwing up. And fuck if I didn’t. You got any idea how hard I worked to keep this plan from falling apart?” he scoffs, running his hand through his short hair. “Aaron was first, then the brawl at Delta, then I killed that moron who hit you… all so Dante would trust me with you, so I could be at his house tonight to take you away instead of putting the fire out in Delta.”
“Aaron was your idea?!”
Luca grits his teeth and grabs me in the middle, throwing me over his shoulder. “Dante’s got a savior complex.” He ignores my fists, ramming his back. “Aaron was a trigger. Dante respected your wish. He left you alone, but that wasn’t part of the plan. Obviously. We had to improvise.” He stands me up, turning me toward the metal emergency door. “Open it.”
“Luca!” Dante booms again, closing in on us.
“Open it!” He taps the gun against my temple. “He can’t catch us inside.”
I pull on the handle. It’s still dark outside. The area doesn’t look familiar but brings to mind a closed factory. Old machinery with flat tires stands scattered around next to a few rusty containers.
“Why not tell me you work for Frank? Why maim me? Why bring me here?” I’m stalling, asking every question that springs to mind to keep Luca occupied, to make him slip, so that I can run or Dante can catch up to us. “Why did you kidnap me from Dante’s house?”
“Stop talking!” he snaps. “Where the fuck does Dante get his patience from? Everything we did was to lure him here.” A sinister laugh escapes his lips. “Straight into the trap.”
We walk toward a white van parked by one of the containers. Luca’s pace slows, and I swear in my head. This is where he wanted Dante all along; out in the open, where he’s ready for him. I look around, searching for silhouettes hiding in the shadows, but see no one. The emergency exit door flies open, hitting the wall with a bang. We turn around, face to face with Dante. His eyes are on me, scrutinizing my body, searching for cuts or bruises, his gun aimed at Luca, who hides behind me, his gun to my head.
“Let. Her. Go.” Dante’s voice is stoic, cold, and terrifying.
“He’ll kill you,” I whisper to Luca.
“Frankie won’t let him.”
Nate runs outside through the open door, followed by Jackson, Spades, and the rest of Dante’s men. Everyone aims at Luca, who tenses behind me. Neither my father nor his pawns are within eyesight. Maybe they’re all dead by now.
Dante waits a few seconds for Luca to obey the order, but when that doesn’t happen, he looks at me, and his eyes dart to the ground. I catch it just in time. Trusting my instincts, I bend my knees, sliding down Luca’s body while Dante pulls the trigger. The bullet wooshes above my head, hitting its target. Luca’s lifeless body hits the ground with a thud.
Dante takes one step toward me, worry etched in his expression, but he stops at the sound of quiet, rhythmic clapping. Frank emerges from the side of the building along with Adam, Burly, and a whole army of men. Each one aims at a different member of Dante’s crew. Frank takes his time, approaching with a revolver pointed at the back of Dante’s head, a triumphant smile on his lips.
I stare into the green eyes of the man I love but have to learn to let go of within the next few minutes, or my heart will give out. Somewhere along the way, I forgot there would be no happily-ever-after. I fell in love, ignoring the consequences.
A single tear slips down my cheek.
Frank stops a few steps behind Dante, taking a second gun out of his pocket. “I’ve been waiting too long for this moment, my friend.” He’s not shouting, but the power of his voice makes him heard by everyone. He moves his eyes to me as he breathes a theatrical sigh of relief. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl.”
He throws the spare gun my way, and I catch it with trembling hands.
Dante’s face turns white.
His eyes stop shining.
And his heart stops beating for me.
“Yes,” Frank says, smiling as if this is the best day of his life. “I’m taking away what you hold, dearest, Dante. I’m taking away what you love most. Now you know what it feels like to be betrayed by the person you trust with your life.” He looks at me again, and his smile grows wider. “Do the honors. It’s your prize for the time you spent with him.”
It never crossed my mind that Frank might want me to kill Dante. He calls it a prize, but he means punishment for my insubordination, for loving his enemy. The last test of loyalty. I can’t fail now, not after all I’ve done, not when the finish line is so close. I have to do it, or else nothing will change. Tomorrow I’ll still be a stranger to my own father… I won’t get another chance to earn his love.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Luca?” I ask, stalling again.
“You’re more believable when you don’t know the details.”
Anger bubbles inside me like boiling water. “You told him to cut off my finger!”
Dante shudders but remains silent, standing there with his gun pointed at the ground, his stance poised, eyes not veering off my face for one second.
“You think Dante would come to your rescue if I locked you in a hotel with a bottle of champagne and a butler?”
“He’d come for me everywhere.”
I’m as sure of it as I’m sure that either I kill him or Frank does. I squeeze the gun and raise it, tasting the salty tears on my lips. I aim at the man who trusted and loved me the way I always wanted to be loved—unconditionally.
“I really do love you,” I whisper, looking into his eyes, my voice defeated. I don’t want him to die thinking he never knew true love or that the time we shared was worthless.
I found peace where there should be fear, happiness where there should be disappointment, and love where nothing but death should await.
“I know, Star.” Not a hint of doubt on his face or in his voice. He knows me well enough to understand my reasons.
My hand is shaking, but I slide my finger to the trigger. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, my heart no longer beating as powerful sobs tear me apart.
“Do you need me to count down from five for you, Layla?” Frank growls, disdain in his voice like a low blow to my stomach. “We don’t have all fucking night. Get it over with.”
I let the air out of my lungs, blink the tears away and pull the trigger. The recoil throws my hand back. At the shooting range, guns were loaded with blanks and seemed weaker than the .44 that falls to the ground.
The bullet pierces his heart, but it’s not the precision that surprises me most.
It’s relief.
I feel free.
Silence falls upon the scene. Frank’s gray eyes remain open as his motionless, lifeless body lies on the gravel, blood seeping from the wound in his chest.
Dante stares at him for a few seconds before he spins around, his back to me. Frank’s men kneel before him in surrender, dropping their weapons, heads hanging low.
Adam dies first.
A bullet from Dante’s Beretta strikes Adam’s head, and he falls as if in slow motion. Allie’s face flashes before my eyes, and fear grips me by the throat.
The second bullet is for Burly.
I force my legs to move, painfully aware that one of those bullets is destined for me. I drop to my knees by Luca’s body, frantically searching his pockets for the keys to the white van. My hands are covered in blood when I pull them out of his jacket. Adrenaline keeps me moving, my senses agile, though exhausted; my mind focused, though hesitant.
Panic is pushed back by survival instinct.
Gunshots tear through the otherwise silent night as I run toward the van, not daring to check how many people died. The engine springs to life seconds later. My foot hard on the pedal, I make a sharp turn, burning out of there, praying to get as far away as possible. I tremble like a leaf, ignoring blood and the piercing pain in my left.
Tears are absent.
I don’t regret killing my father. Hearing the disdain in his voice helped me realize he was rotten to his core. There was no saving him, no gaining his love or acceptance. Nothing would’ve changed if I’d kill Dante. Frank would find a different thing to obsess over, a different reason to keep me at a distance.
He didn’t deserve me, my love, or my allegiance.
I risk my life when I park the van outside Frank’s house. I need money, documents, and clothes to start over somewhere far away from the man I love.
“What are you doing?” Jess enters my bedroom while I’m throwing things into two large travel bags. “What happened?” She points at the crimson bandage on my hand, her eyes wide.
“Frank is dead,” I say, rushing from the wardrobe to the bathroom and back, packing everything I can get my hands on. “Dante’s taking over Chicago. I’m leaving.” I grip her by her frail shoulders. “You shouldn’t stay, Jess. Run as soon as you can.”
Her chin quivers, eyes pooling with tears. “He’s dead? Frankie’s dead?” She covers her mouth. “How? What happened? Why are you running?!”
I zip the bags, shoving Jess aside to throw them down the stairs. “I have to go. I can’t stay, Mom…” Words stick in my throat, so I simply hug her and leave.
I burst into Frank’s office. The only safe in the house I know the combination to is in his desk. I load a bag with as much cash as I can fit in there, then fill my coat pockets. I load the trunk of my BMW and start the engine, but Jess stops me, opening the driver’s side door.
“Why are you running?!” she sobs, taking my hand. “Where are you going?!”
“I don’t know, but I need to leave.” I push her away, grabbing the door handle. “Stay safe. I’ll call you soon.”
She nods, mascara-stained tears rolling down her cheeks. I don’t look back when I drive through the gate and onto the road. I won’t miss this place. No happy memories exist in my mind of Frank or Jess. All the best moments of my life I spent in a different house, with a man who hates me more than he ever loved me.
I don’t know where I’m going or if I’ll ever be safe again. I only know that my life has changed forever.
TO BE CONTINUED…
