The moment Marcello runs away, I turn around and watch as he jumps up the stairs, relentless in his pursuit of Frank and Molly. It’s almost like he’s obsessed with bringing them down. But at the same time, I can’t fault him for trying after all the things they did to him.
But the men fighting in front of me force me to direct my attention elsewhere, closer to me on the battlefield. Because right in front of me, a few feet away, is a woman kneeling in front of an Italian soldier. A woman dressed in all-black regalia.
And the sight makes me widen my eyes.
Why did Andrea come inside? It’s fucking dangerous! She could get—
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of distant screams coming from the balcony part of the warehouse. Molly is right there, waving a gun around while screaming at the top of her lungs at Marcello, who is going after her and Frank. But the wicked smile on her face puts me on edge as she points her gun at someone in the swarm of people down below.
And I watch in horror as Marcello turns around, jumps off the stairs, and races toward that one person in the crowd that makes me scream.
“Andrea!”
As the gun goes off, Marcello leaps in front of her.
I don’t think twice before I rush right back into the heat of the fire, not giving a shit if the next bullet hits me. Because I need to know if Andrea … if Marcello is okay.
They’re right there on the floor in front of me, I just know it, but I can’t see shit because of all the men in the way that are fighting each other. So I push past them and shove them aside, ignoring their growls and threats of violence. Mario has my back, shooting at any Irish or Polish guy who dares to get close to try to grab me.
When I finally spot them lying on the floor, I choke on my breath, my throat constricting the sound of my shriek.
“Marcello!” I run to his body and lift it.
Underneath is Andrea, groaning with confusion. “What happened?”
Above them, a soldier she was patching up crawls away from the obvious danger.
“Harper?” Andrea mutters as I check her for wounds.
“Molly tried to shoot you,” I answer, and her face turns cold as ice.
“What?!” she exclaims, but then her eyes dart to Marcello, and she gets up from the floor to try to wake him. “Marcello? Marcello!”
I help her turn him around, where a gunshot wound is clearly visible near his abdomen. Tears well up in my eyes as the blood pours out.
“Oh, no …” Andrea swiftly tears away some fabric to wrap around his waist, but it stains red easily.
I lift Marcello onto my lap so I can have a closer look. He coughs, and blood spills from his mouth. I try to wipe it off, but more gunshots make it impossible for me to fully focus on getting him to safety. On keeping him alive.
Mario fires off some bullets at the balcony, causing Molly and Frank to temporarily pull back into the room beyond, so I can talk to Marcello.
He was so determined to finally get to Frank and Molly, but when they tried to hurt Andrea, he immediately turned around and ran down to save her.
“Marcello, why? Why did you do that?” I ask, my voice fluctuating in pitch, unable to keep the pain from seeping through.
He groans and coughs again, blood spilling from his mouth, so I wipe it away. “I wanted to spare you … from the same pain I was forced to endure when I lost my mother.” His hand rises to meet my face, caressing my cheek ever so softly with his last bit of energy.
My heart swells with warmth, and I place my hand on top of his as tears run freely down my cheeks. He sacrificed not only his wish to pursue Molly and Frank, but he also sacrificed his own body to save the one person I need the most.
“I can’t even describe how grateful I am …” I reply, swallowing down the lump in my throat as I finally come to the realization that his love for me is not merely in the form of lust. And that my own love for him is nothing to feel ashamed of. “Or how much I love you.”
A soft smile forms on his face as we stay here for a few seconds, basking in the glow, however long it may last. And I lean over to press a kiss on his forehead, my lips lingering on his skin as long as possible. But the mere thought of not having this for all eternity, of not being with him, of not having his heart for the rest of my life, fills me with fear.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper, clutching his hand tight.
He groans and clenches his muscles tight in order to sit up straight, but it hurts to see him in so much pain. “I’m not dying yet.”
“Don’t move. You’ll hurt yourself even more,” I say.
“No, we have to move. Now,” he says, and he points at the balcony where Frank and Molly just reappeared.
Mario is getting more bullets from one of his soldiers, which means the Irish have an opening and intend to use it.
“Go!” Marcello growls, flicking his head toward Mario as if he wants me to run to safety while I would much rather stay by his side. I quickly help him up from the ground, despite my reservations to move him. He could be further injured, but it doesn’t seem like he cares at all. “Claudio! Hand me a gun!”
I turn my head only to see a gun flying right by me, landing straight in Marcello’s hands. Claudio is still gunning down some Polish dudes trying to come in through the area below where Marcello and Claudio emerged from. The place is flooded with dons and henchmen, but Marcello doesn’t even seem to care that we might be outnumbered.
“What are you planning to do?” I ask as he straightens his back and bites through the pain.
We came to rescue Marcello and Claudio, not to defeat the Irish and Polish Mafia all in the same day. But from the looks of it, Marcello has already made up his mind.
“I’m going to finish what I started,” he replies, and he’s off before I can say a word.
I’m about to follow him when suddenly Stefan blocks my way. Marcello is already on his way to the stairs and doesn’t even notice as I face this lumbering giant of a Polish, grinning devil.
“Hello, sweet cheeks,” he says. “Miss me?”
He gets closer and closer, cornering me. But Andrea is still behind me, quivering as she tries to crawl away.
“Andrea, get out,” I bark at her.
She quickly scrambles herself together and hurries toward the safe arms of Mario, who quickly grabs her and holds on tight, signaling me that he won’t let her come inside again.
“Gotta get the nun out of here, right?” Stefan jests. “Someone you know?”
I return my attention to him. “Shut up and let me through.”
He raises his brow. “Or what?”
“You don’t want to know,” I reply, baring my teeth.
I’m not afraid to use violence.
He finally reveals his gun and sticks it right up into my waist. “Oh, trust me … I want to know.”
His hand is already in the grabbing motion, and I just know there’s something more that he wants from me that I’m not willing to give. I need to get to Marcello, and I am going to get to those goddamn stairs, even if I have to go straight through Stefan to do it.
When he reaches for me, I deflect his attack and go for the jugular, but he immediately grabs my wrist and holds tight. “You think I don’t know what you bitches are capable of?” he spits.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Melanie comes running in and drop-kicks him in the face.
She squeals, “You fucking bastard!”
She stomps on his body with her heels until a hole appears. I’m energized by her sheer hatred and kick him in the nuts so hard he vomits. Before he can shoot at us, I knock the gun from his hand.
“You fucking bitch,” he spits, face red as a beet from the pain.
Melanie and I alternate kicking him again and again, not sparing any inch of his body. Even his dick gets a pounding. Then I snatch the gun from the ground and point it right at his face.
“You wanted to know what we would do?” I muse. “Now you know, motherfucker.”
And I hand the gun to Melanie, who doesn’t think twice before she shoots him right in the chest and watches the lights go out in his eyes.
Not a single second does she looks like she regrets pulling the trigger.
The fucker deserved what he had coming for him after hurting Melanie like that. Not to mention the fact that he was working with Molly, putting Marcello and Claudio through the wringer like that, and then having the gall to try to take me for himself too.
I spit on him for good measure and then turn to Melanie. “Thank you.”
“Oh, I didn’t do it for you,” she responds.
“I know.”
“That felt nice.”
I nod, smiling, but the sound of gunshots going off in the distance puts me on edge. “See you later then?”
“Damn sure,” she responds, flicking her head at the hole in the wall. “I’ll go meet up with your crew.”
“They’re outside. Tell them you know me, and they’ll take you to safety.”
Before I can run off, Melanie grabs my shoulder. “Thanks for everything.”
“Anytime.”
I run to follow Marcello, who has already gone up the stairs. I don’t have to search hard to find them.
A gunshot goes off, and a bullet flies right out the door mere inches away from my face. I hold up the gun and point it ahead before I go inside, where Molly and Marcello are having a standoff. Molly’s got her gun pointed right at Marcello’s face while he’s pointing it at her stomach.
I jump into the doorway and point a gun at Molly’s head, but my hand is already shaking at the thought. But we’re two against one now. She’s not going to win this.
“What? You think you can shoot me?” Molly quips. “My daughter, come to kill me?”
“I’ll do it,” I hiss as she tries to step closer.
“I don’t believe you will … Look at you, all quivering like a little girl,” she says, not even taking me seriously.
Suddenly, something cold and metallic pushes up against my side. Only when I finally look do I notice Frank in the wheelchair right beside me.
“Missed me, honey?” he says, raising his brow at me before shoving the gun farther into my belly.
“Let Marcello go,” I tell them.
“No, honey. I don’t think we will,” Molly replies. “In fact, I think it’s best we put an end to this while we’re here, no?”
“If you still value her as a daughter, you will let her live,” Marcello rasps, his voice as weak as the strength left in his body.
Molly laughs. “You think after everything you did, everything you said, I will ever forgive?” The look in her eyes changes from amusement to murderous as the smile on her face vanishes into thin air. “You are all dead to me. Along with that demon spawn growing inside you.”
The metal is pushed farther into my belly, and Marcello’s eyes follow the gun, a fire raging behind his pupils.
Suddenly, he pulls his gun away from Molly and pushes the trigger while it’s pointed at Frank.
One shot.
That’s all it takes to make his body go limp.
And for Molly to completely lose her shit.
Screaming her lungs out, she punches Marcello in the gut, grasping his gun, but Marcello refuses to let go. However, the metal is already pointed at his head, and she’s about to find the trigger and pull.
I can’t let it happen.
So I hold up my gun, shaking and all, and pull the trigger.
BANG!
As Molly falls down to the floor, I feel nothing but relief, her body convulsing as the blood pours from her head wound.
I just shot the one person I was searching for all this time.
The one person I used to call Mother.
The one thing she never truly was to me.
I sink to the floor, and the gun drops from my hand while I stare at the scene in front of me, completely out of it. Marcello sinks to the floor as well, his body firmly planted against the wall as he heaves and coughs up blood. When his eyes start to close, I snap back into action.
“Marcello?” I mutter, crawling over Frank’s dead body to get to him. “Marcello? Wake up!”
I shake him, but there’s no response, not even a groan. And when I pull away his shirt to check his wound, it only starts to bleed more.
“Oh no,” I mutter, and I wrap his arm around my shoulder and try to get him up, but I’m not strong enough to lift him by myself.
So I scramble to my feet and run to the door, screaming, “Frank and Molly are dead!”
Half the men don’t even hear me, while the other half stops fighting momentarily, staring at me like I just shouted something so completely insane that it can’t be true.
“Claudio! Ricardo!” I yell, catching their attention. “Marcello needs help!”
The men stop fighting and immediately come rushing up the stairs, ignoring the Polish and Irish still trying to throw punches.
“Where is he?” Claudio asks.
“In there,” I say, and we all run inside to Marcello, who is still not talking or moving.
I grab his wrist and feel a faint pulse. “He’s still alive.”
“Grab him. I’ll grab this end,” Claudio says to Ricardo, and they both put their shoulders underneath Marcello to help lift him. Claudio groans and sinks into his knees the second he’s standing. His injuries have gotten the best of him.
“Wait, let me do it,” I say, swiftly propping myself underneath Marcello’s shoulder.
“You sure you can do it?” Claudio asks.
“Yeah, stay behind to take care of what’s left of the Irish and Polish. I’ll take Marcello to a hospital,” I reply.
Claudio nods while Ricardo pushes on. We go downstairs and haul Marcello all the way to the blasted open hole in the wall where Mario is waiting with Andrea. He attempts to get up and help us, but I say, “Stay with Andrea. Finish this.”
He nods at me too, but then throws me a coat anyway. “Here. Don’t want you to get cold.”
I quickly put it on and cover my skimpy outfit. “Thanks.”
I’m glad he doesn’t try to stop me. I want to take Marcello to safety myself, and I’m not going to leave his side again.
Ricardo and I open the doors to the getaway car, shove Marcello onto the back seat, and hop inside. Ricardo races off, tugging at the steering wheel while he hits the gas. He ignores red lights and drives as fast as possible to get to the hospital in time. Because I’m holding Marcello’s wrist in my hand, and his heartbeat is getting fainter by the second.
“Hold on, Marcello. Hold on,” I mutter.
“What happened?” Ricardo asks.
“We shot down Molly and Frank, but Molly gunned Marcello first,” I reply.
“Fuck. It’s finally over then,” he says.
I shake my head. “It’s not over until Marcello is safe.”
He nods and hits the gas even more, going far beyond the speed limit. But when he goes left where the sign says go right to go to the hospital, I almost want to tear at the steering wheel myself.
“Where are you going? The hospital is over there!”
“Can’t go to a regular hospital. He’s a don for crying out loud,” Ricardo responds. “We go to a clinic I know and trust. Now let me do my job.”
I frown and make a face. “Fine, but if they don’t save him, I will never forgive you.”
“These people would let me kill them if they didn’t manage to save Marcello,” he quips, throwing me a glance.
I swallow hard and grip Marcello’s wrist tight, wishing I could be the one to rip that bullet out of his body. But I know I need to leave it to people who know what they are doing, even if it’s hard.
The second we arrive, we hop out of the car, drag Marcello’s body outside, and run into the dodgy-looking clinic. But I have to trust Ricardo now to know what’s best for Marcello. After all, Marcello trusted him with my life, and there is nothing Marcello holds more dear than me.
A man approaches us from behind a table and immediately signals some other doctors to come and help. “Gurney!”
“Help him, please,” I mutter as the men take him over and place him down on the gurney.
“What happened?” the doctor asks.
“He got shot,” I respond, lifting a piece of his clothing to reveal the bloodied wound.
The doctor looks worried. “Take him to the OR.”
I grab Marcello’s hand, but I can only hold on for a few seconds as the men wheel him away. But when the doctor also turns his back to me, I grab his arm and ask, “Can you fix him? Will he make it out alive?”
He takes in a deep breath. “I cannot promise anything, but I will try my best.”
My fingers grow numb as he pulls away and runs after the men who take Marcello. He enters the door I’m not allowed to pass. Staff only. And I’m left, staring through the tiny window in the door to watch them enter a room with the one man who captured my heart.
I don’t want him to die.
