70. Chapter Seventy

The Canvanis have always been the bottom tier family wrapped up in the treaty. We know it; they know it. I can't blame them for being bitter little pricks. But that does not excuse putting their hands on my wife. Coming onto my property. Killing my men. And talking to me the way they have been over the last few months.

So, regardless of the fucking treaty, I'm going to kill every last one of those fucks, and there is nothing anyone can do about it because Dario fucking Canvani wanted the treaty changed. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he realizes how badly he fucked up.

We reach their house in no time, and the dumbasses have the shittiest excuse for security. A chain-link gate with a guard in a box—as if that's going to stop us. It couldn't stop a fucking toddler.

Antonio rams the gate without slowing down, and I doubt there will be a scratch on my bumper with how easily the thing went down.

Fucking pitiful.

He presses on the gas and we speed up the driveway, the other cars following behind. Once we reach the house, we hop out and race to the front door before any of their guys make it outside.

Their house is big, and from here looks like it's made up of a bunch of stupid hallways. A heavy boot to the door has it flying inward, and my men rush in before I do. They know the drill. Keep Jordan safe. Tell me if they find her. No one kills Dario or Zachary but me. Everyone else dies. Simple.

The Canvani men finally make their way toward us once my men fill their lobby, preparing to search the house. My men take them out easily with shots to the head. They drop like flies. We split up; me heading upstairs with Antonio and Rocco behind me, while others move through the downstairs and some come up after us to head in other directions.

I've never been here, don't know the layout of the house, but most people have their bedrooms on the second floor. I bet Zachary is keeping her somewhere in the back of the house. Now all I need to do is figure out how the fuck to get there.

I'm pretty sure he won't kill her, but that doesn't mean he won't, or hasn't, hurt her. Don't want to think about that because I need to think clearly, and it's already taking everything in me not to freak the fuck out as is.

We round a corner too quickly, and shots fire toward me. A bullet ricochets off something metal, pinging around before landing in the wall across from me. I press my back against the wall and shoot blindly. Antonio jumps out, shooting twice. There's a grunt, a thud, and more shots fire toward us, but he's already hiding against the wall. Rocco ducks down for a split second before jumping out and shoots one shot. The guy grunts and falls to the floor.

I'm so glad they're fucking good.

Rocco waves me on, so we keep going.

I kick in every door I pass, each of them empty and soulless. Just as I'd expect this house to feel. We reach the end of the hall and there's nothing. It's empty.

Antonio picks up his phone, listens for a second, and says one word. "Thanks."

"They're not on the other end or downstairs. Just a bunch of suits."

"Fuck," I bark, looking around frantically.

Something catches my eye out the window. I point at it. "There. What the fuck is that?"

"Looks like a guest house," Antonio says.

"Get everyone on it now. No one goes in until I get there."

I hurry back down the hall as Antonio makes the call, going back the way we came, down the stairs, and out the front and around the house because I'm not figuring out my way through this maze of a house. Twenty of my men are already surrounding the guest house when I reach it, and I hear Zachary yelling from inside already.

No hesitation on my part. I kick this fucking door in too. It splinters open, the bottom hinge snapping right out of the wood. That little prick has my girl with him, holding her against his chest, arm around her stomach, and a gun to her head.

She's crying. Her hair is a mess. And she has a black eye.

"You hurt my wife?" I ask, taking a step closer to him. The rage that fills me is like nothing I have ever felt in my entire life. I don't allow myself to give in to the rage I see over someone putting a mark on my wife. I won't fuck this up because I can't keep myself calm.

"Don't come any fucking closer, Bramante. I will fucking shoot her." He presses the barrel of the gun to her head, and she whimpers. His hand shakes, his eyes wild.

"You aren't going to shoot her, Canvani. You don't have the fucking balls."

"I will!" he shouts, jerking toward me.

"Stop, please stop," she cries, her chest shaking with sobs. "Zach, please. I'll do whatever you want. Just let me go."

"Tell her the truth, Vincenzo. Tell her how she was payment to you too. Tell her the fucking truth!"

"That isn't the truth, and she knows it," I say carefully.

"It is the truth! We all know it. She thinks you care about her, but I've been trying to tell her how it is. You don't give a fuck about anyone but yourself. You only took her for payment, but she's my fucking payment! She was paid to me first!"

"And I paid off that debt, Zachary, with money. Much more than you were owed originally. To keep you the fuck away from her!" I bellow.

Her eyes widen.

"That's the truth, and you know it," I spit out. "I paid the money so you would leave her the fuck alone. So you wouldn't come back and take her, because she isn't yours. She's mine. And not because of the money, but because I want her. That's the fucking truth. The real fucking truth." I take a step closer to him, but he's still so fucking far away. "Now you are going to let her go, or I'm going to shove my fist so far up your fucking ass you'll lick the shit off my fingers."

He huffs out a disbelieving sound and shouts, "You motherfuckers think you're so much better than me! I don't get it. We got here the same as you did. We are part of the treaty, the same as you. Yet, you and Gaetano and those Irish fucking pricks all seem to think you're better than us!" Zachary's face is so red he looks like a damn tomato. The kid looks like he's about to pass out any second now. Wish he would.

"Because we are!" I roar. "We are fucking better. Always have been fucking better. Canvani means shit to anyone and everyone. The Bramante family has made a name for themselves. Don't be pissed at me that your father is a fucking pussy who couldn't build the type of empire my father did." I slam my hand against my chest, proving my point and taking another step closer.

"Does she know you killed him?" he asks.

"She sure as fuck does, wanna know why? Huh, Zachary?" I step closer. "Want to know how my wife knows I murdered my own fucking father? Because I don't lie to her!"

"Bullshit! You'll kill her like you killed your own father, and if you ever fill her with your babies, you'll kill them too. If you can kill your own flesh and blood, no one is safe!"

I don't react to that news. I was sure Dario would have told his son Jordan was pregnant. Why didn't he?

Jordan's lip trembles and tears fall from her eyes. The look on her face hurts me right to my core. The worry in her eyes? It kills me. Like she's thought about me hurting her or our child. She's worried about it. It stings.

"That is a lie," I say. "She knows I would never hurt her."

"He's right," Jordan says, her voice shaking. For a second I think she's talking to him, but when her eyes meet mine, I realize that isn't the truth. I feel as if I've been shot. Right through the fucking chest. "Zachary is right, Enzo. I-I'm not safe with you."

"See!" he barks, still pressing the gun to her head.

I can't breathe. Really can't breathe. I suck in a breath, but my chest is so tight there's no room. My heart is pounding so hard, but it hurts. It fucking hurts. She can't actually mean those words. But the look on her face? No. She doesn't mean any of that. She can't.

"Just let me go, Enzo," she whispers, her face a mess with tears. "Please, let me go."

Zachary laughs. The little shit laughs. And I'm frozen, unable to move, because it feels like someone tore my heart out of my fucking chest. When Jordan turns in his arms to hug him, he nuzzles his face against her neck.

The same way I do.

The exact same way I do.

I want to fucking die.

He huffs out a laugh, closes his eyes, and breathes her in.

I don't think. Don't think about anything, but the little shit having his arms around my wife, hugging her like she belongs to him. I don't fucking think so, Zachary.

I raise my arm, aim, and shoot.