Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

Anya

R aphael faces the laptop. “Give me the password.”

“Raphael Morelli.”

He looks at me with surprise. “I suppose the most obvious ones are the best. Everyone thinks they’re so obvious that no one will use them. That’s why I’ve been lying low at Obsidian while working on this genius plan.”

Clever. Raphael was right under our noses all along. No one would’ve thought to look there. Obsidian closed down a while ago. The loss of business that forced the move was my doing. Perverse pride swells my chest.

When he turns back to the laptop and starts typing, my muscles tense, gearing for action. I count the letters, every single one. I have to think quickly. Improvise. Honestly? I didn’t think I’d make it out. What happens now is the part of the strategy I couldn’t plan. There were too many variables I couldn’t predict. But I’ll be damned if I don’t fight tooth and nail to my very last breath.

“Can I take my sweater?” I ask, eyeing it where it lies on the floor. “I’ll remember better if I’m not so cold.”

“No.” He chuckles. “Soon, you won’t feel the cold.”

E-L-L…

I hold my breath.

And then he hits the I in Morelli.

A blast tears through the space. The laptop explodes. Pieces of glass, metal, and plastic fly through the air. At the same time Raphael’s body is knocked back, hitting the floor hard, I run to the crate and grab a grenade.

Pandemonium and confusion follow. Three men dive for cover while the other two freeze. I pull out the pin and hurl the grenade toward the corner of the room before throwing my body through the open door.

A shot goes off before a second blast shakes the building.

I land on my shoulder, the impact crunching my bones and burning my naked skin where I slide over the tarmac on my side.

My ears ring, and my head spins.

I push up on one arm. I have to get up. Quickly.

Flames billow through the broken windows and the door frame. Something sharp presses into my palm. Broken glass.

Ignoring the pain, I force myself to stand. I stumble before righting myself. It’s only then that I notice the blood dripping down my arm. A neat hole is lodged in my bicep. Strangely, I don’t feel that pain, only the sting from the glass and the tarmac burn.

Another shot rings out. I run two steps and duck behind an empty drum. A man with a rifle in his hand pushes through the door frame. His clothes are on fire. He falls on the ground and rolls over once, twice before going still.

I sprint the few yards to a stack of containers, ignoring the stitch in my side and the tightness in my chest that makes it difficult to breathe. I reach the safe distance not a second too early. A series of explosions go off like fireworks, shooting corrugated iron roof plates into the sky.

The grenades.

My breath stutters. My teeth chatter. I inhale the smoke and heat that taint the crisp night air, filling my lungs with the smell of destruction. The scents and sounds as well as the sight of the flames bring back a sharp, terrifying memory of my wedding day, but I try not to think about that lest it throws me back into the past and dislodges the incapacitating fear.

When everything remains quiet except for the roar of the raging fire, I dare a peek.

No one moves.

I give it another few seconds before coming out of my hiding place.

Nothing happens.

No gunshots are fired.

I ease closer until I reach the man on the ground. He lies on his back, staring at me unblinkingly, dragging in noisy breaths through his open mouth. The skin of his left cheek is peeled, melted clean off his bones. It’s the one who searched me.

I don’t feel pity as I bend down and test the temperature of his rifle shaft with a finger. The metal isn’t hot enough to burn the skin off my palm. I pry it from his hand and stand over him. He looks at me with a plea in his eyes, begging me to end him.

They took my baby, a tiny, helpless little girl. They were going to rape and kill me.

Aiming the barrel between his eyes, I show him more mercy than he ever intended showing me.

Pop.

The light in his eyes goes out. They stare unseeingly at the glow of the flames that lights up the night sky.

Movement at the side of the building catches my attention. A man hobbles toward the fence. He doubles over and goes down on all fours, but he doesn’t slow down. He continues to crawl away from the light of the fire, his destination the shadows at the border of the property.

I recognize the white shirt and the tailored pants.

Shards of glass and sharp pebbles dig into my soles, but I don’t heed the discomfort. I cut over the deserted lot with steady steps, quickly closing the distance between us.

As if sensing my presence, he looks over his shoulder. His eyes flare ever so slightly, and then he doubles his effort, slithering like a snake on his stomach. I go after him, a hunter stalking her prey with single-minded focus.

That calmness of earlier comes over me again. The hatred Raphael Morelli unleashed inside me when I woke up in a hospital and discovered what he did pumps through my veins. This is a fight for survival, and I’ve never felt stronger.

He grunts from the exertion, moving faster, but there’s no escape. I walk next to him, my stride leisurely compared to how hard he rows himself forward on his elbows. I register that part of human nature, how he denies the inevitable and fights his fate. Before me crawls the man who changed me, the man who turned me into a vengeful creature. A better person will walk away instead of sinking to Morelli’s level. A good person will call Detective Jordan and leave the judgment to the legal system. But the person I am now knows that no one can be trusted, not even judges and officers in the force. Powerful men have pawns and minions everywhere. Even in jail. Clever men don’t leave loose ends. However, even the most dangerous and cleverest men can underestimate the power of a mother’s love for her child. No one touches my baby. No one lays a finger on my family.

I lift my foot and slam my heel into the back of his knee. His kneecap crunches on the gravel. A howl tears from his chest as I put my full weight behind the effort.

“Anya!”

I hear my name from somewhere far off. It’s like a distant echo in the back of my mind, the voice a familiar and soothing memory.

I get off Raphael and kick him in the ribs until I manage to roll him over so I can take away his gun, but he lost it in the explosion. The mocking smile he aims for is more of a grimace. The laugh he throws at me is hollow. His shirt is torn in the front, revealing shredded skin and the open wound in his chest. Blood runs from his nose and mouth. One ear is missing.

“Anya!”

I step over him and push the gun against his forehead. His face pulls into a mask of contempt even as panic flickers in his eyes. He tries to hide his fear, but Raphael Morelli is afraid to die. He knows he lost. He lost his wife, his baby, his empire, and now he’s about to lose his life.

“How does it feel?” I snarl, tightening my finger on the trigger.

“Anya!”

My name comes from that distant place yet closer now, but I’m trapped with Raphael in that defining moment between life and death where nothing else exists.

“Go ahead,” Raphael taunts. Splutters. “Shoot me.”

“How does it feel to know you’ll never see your son, that another man will raise him, and that he’ll call someone else his father?”

The pretense drops. The real man shows himself when he utters a raw cry of fury and tries to reach for me like a feral animal with bared teeth. He claws the air and grabs the barrel of the rifle. I easily pull it from his palms, which are slippery with blood, and push it between his eyes again. It feels right to do it now—when he’s stripped from all pretenses down to his true, naked, despicable self.

“No one lays a finger on my daughter, Morelli.”

Knowledge courses between us. This is the moment. The end. Despite this certain fact, surprise widens his eyes when I caress the trigger. The spring tightens behind my index finger.

Pop.

Surprise is frozen on his face. Denial is the sentiment he takes to his grave.

“Fuck, Anya!”

It’s only then that I allow myself to feel the pain. To experience everything.

Warm hands grab my shoulders and pull me against a hard chest.

“Give me the gun, treasure.”

Saverio’s spicy scent wraps around me. I tilt my head up, staring at his scarred features. He takes the rifle from me and hands it to someone.

His mouth is set in a hard line, the blue of his eyes like ice as he examines my bicep. “Get the car. She’s bleeding. Gunshot.”

I’m both numb and cold, grateful for the coat he hangs over my shoulders. The ground disappears from under my feet. He’s lifted me into his arms, holding me against his chest.

His leg.

He can’t carry me.

I want to tell him that, but he’s already walking with long, uneven strides toward twin lights burning in the dark.

Headlights.

Vehicles.

“You came,” I say, thinking out loud.

He jostles my body, adjusting my weight in his arms. “Always, tesoro .”

Dante stands next to an SUV. He opens the back door for Saverio.

When Saverio lowers me onto the seat, I grip Dante’s forearm. “You have to make sure they’re all dead.”

Saverio’s tone is clipped. “No one could’ve survived that blast.”

“Double check,” I say, tightening my fingers on Dante’s arm.

Dante’s lips lift in one corner. “Yes, boss, Lady Luck.”

While Saverio deposits me with the utmost gentleness on the seat, Dante calls a guard over and instructs him to do a body count. Saverio comes around the car and shifts in next to me. Dante takes the wheel.

“We can’t go to the hospital,” I say. “You know the drill.”

Saverio clenches his jaw. “Let me see your arm.”

“The cops will be here soon,” Dante says, starting the engine. “I’ll take a backroad.”

I wince as Saverio pushes the coat over my shoulder to expose my upper arm. “Claire.”

“Livy and Claire are home safely.” Saverio’s voice is terse. “Nicole just sent me a text message.”

I sink back against the seat with a sigh.

“Here.” Dante grabs a jacket from the passenger seat that he throws over his shoulder. “To stop the bleeding. I’ll let Nicole know we’re on our way.”

Saverio neatly tears off the sleeve and ties it like a bandage around my arm. “Hold on, treasure. I’ve got you.”

I utter a painful chuckle. “Now I really wish you robbed an ambulance. I won’t say no to a little anesthetic before Nicole takes this bullet out of my arm.”

Saverio’s features set into hard lines. “When this is over, we’re going to have a serious talk about the risks you took tonight.”

“Cut her some slack.” Dante glances in the rearview mirror. “This isn’t the moment for a lecture.”

“If you know what’s good for you—” Saverio starts.

“Guys.” Ouch. Even raising my voice hurts. “Can we not fight until we’re home? Please?”

“Just relax, my love.” Saverio pulls me against the side of his body, sheltering me with his strength and warmth. “I’ll take care of you.” A short hesitation follows before he says, “There’s something you should know.”

“My mom?”

He exhales. “She’s dead.”

I take a moment to process that. Instead of sadness, all I find in my heart is relief. “Raphael?”

Saverio holds my gaze. “He started it.” His tone hardens. “I finished it.”

I nod, accepting that fact. She did the unthinkable by taking my baby. If I’d gotten to her before Saverio, I wouldn’t have shown her mercy either.

“It’s ugly,” he warns.

I let out a tremulous breath. “What did she do?”

“She sold Claire to Raphael for a million dollars.” Hatred fills his words. “She was stupid enough to believe he’d give her the money.”

I digest that while he tells me what my mom confessed—that Raphael bribed her to spy on us but that he had to change tactics when I turned her away. And that he paid her bills while they bided their time until the right moment presented itself to put his new plan into action.

“Raphael knew about the party because he had your house watched,” I muse. “He chose the moment to send my mom after Claire well. She didn’t care what he was going to do to my baby. Like always, she only cared about feeding her addictions.”

“That’s over.” He kisses the top of my head. “You can put it behind you now.”

Something like this you never put behind you, but I’m only grateful to have my daughter back unharmed. I’m alive, which is more than I bargained for when I set out on this mission. That’s a lot to be thankful for. I’m not going to waste the chance I was given by dwelling in the past. I’m going to live every second like it matters. I’m going to be the best mother for Claire I can be. The days of settling for second best are over. I came close to death twice, the first time at our wedding, and the second time, tonight.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the gun was in my hand. My relationship with death is different, more intimate, and my life will never be the same again. I’m acutely aware of both my strength and my vulnerability. I know how fragile life is and how short the time we have can be. If the experience made me realize one thing, it’s this…

Saverio deserves better, and so do I.

Shit, that thought hurts.

I blink away the tears that burn at the back of my eyes.

Just as he’s always there for me, I’ll be there for him too. I told Nicole I won’t give up on him, but I don’t have to do it as his wife. I can stand by him as a friend. I owe it to both of us to give us a chance at the happiness we couldn’t find together. We tried. God knows, I did. But it’s time to admit that maybe I’m not what Saverio needs. He told me so on several occasions, but I didn’t want to listen because I didn’t want to leave.

This obsession we have with one another isn’t healthy. It’s nothing but lust, and lust hasn’t been enough for a while now. As long as Saverio is saddled with me, he’ll never have the opportunity to find the right woman, a woman who’ll free him from the invisible chains his love of Rachele put on him.

It will kill me to walk away, but sometimes, the path to happiness is painful. Sometimes, doing the right thing hurts. Letting go hurts the deepest. That’s why it’s so hard to admit that I’m clinging to my husband for selfish reasons. I’m staying for me, not for him. It’s time to do what’s best for both of us. It’s time to be brave enough to give Saverio what he asked for.

It will take me a long time to get over us. Maybe forever. My chest caves in with the knowledge of what I have to do. The pain is already tearing me apart, making a mushy mess of my heart. Cutting myself out of Saverio’s life will be like ripping my soul from my body, but it’s the only way we’ll finally be free to move on.