12. Delphine

12

delphine

I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

I’m stuck in the moment as Paulio Belini prods his handgun into my spine. I recognize his pallid, scowling face from my years as an ADA in Northam. Time has matured his once boyish features, making them sharper and more angular. His head of chestnut hair has started to recede, giving him a severe widow’s peak.

Two of his henchmen appear on either side in front of me, coming out of hiding. One has his gun pointed at the kids while the other’s shoving along none other than Marcel.

My jaw drops open as if to scream his name, then I clamp it shut again.

I’m still so lost as to what the hell’s going on, I can’t even react properly. Fear and anxiety have coalesced into a single feeling that leaves my pulse thumping dangerously fast.

Dominic and Bryce are my concern first and foremost. Both boys blink at me, on the verge of breaking out into tears.

It makes me want to cry too. Cry because their innocent little minds are being warped by the demented men who have wandered onto the property and pointed guns at us.

Forcing a breath into my lungs, I urge myself to stay calm. “You’re making a mistake,” I say slowly. “Whatever it is you want, you can’t think you’ll get it by threatening me and the boys.”

“So it’s true!” Paulio grunts out a laugh. “Delphine Adams really does think she can tell guys like me what to do. Hey, sweetheart, you think I’ve forgotten what you did to my cousins Giorgio and Hector? I was a rubber-necked kid when you were fucking with them, but none of that’s about to go unpunished now. Bet you wish you hadn’t sent your security on some wild goose chase tracking down your brother. Turns out, he was with us the whole time.”

I barely have a clue what he’s speaking of. Clearly, no matter how many years it’s been, he’s harboring a grudge.

“Anything you’re upset about, we can discuss, Paulio. After you let the boys back into the house.”

“What did I just tell you? You don’t call the shots anymore. Believe it or not, this isn’t even about you. See this one?” Paulio uses the Glock he’s pressed into my spine to wave toward Marcel. “He’s in deep trouble. Quite the gambler. You know how much debt he’s in?”

My gaze snaps to Marcel’s, who avoids looking directly at me. His expression blanks, only his tight jaw giving him away. He’s simply too prideful to address it.

Paulio is telling the truth.

“Mommy!” Dominic whines, tearing up.

“It’s okay, Dom. Please don’t cry. Just keep calm and do as Mommy says.” I inhale another breath and then strengthen my tone, turning my head slightly for a peek over my shoulder. “Whatever Marcel owes you, Salvatore and I will pay it. Please let the children go back inside.”

“You’re all going back inside. Take us your lovely husband the don. Now.”

I’m stiff standing aside to let Dominic and Bryce pass through first. The soldier with Marcel goes next. Paulio nudges me forward last. We cross through the kitchen, the noises from the rest of the house now audible.

It feels like a horrible nightmare approaching the den. Thinking about how Salvatore and the others don’t yet know what’s happened.

They’ll be so surprised once we walk through the door. They’ll be terrified and angry at these intruders seeking to do us harm.

Salvatore will be bloodthirsty.

The moment arrives.

Dominic and Bryce dash into the den with tears streaking down their cheeks. Sasha notices first, rising from the armchair where she’s seated to ask them what’s wrong.

“Bryce. Dominic? Boys, what’s—?” she cuts herself off once she sees who next walks through the door.

Salvatore, Dad, and Stitches stop in the middle of the conversation they’re having. All three men look up to find Paulio Belini and his soldiers have entered the room.

Salvatore steps forward immediately, his eyes telling me what I’ve known. He’s already imagining how best to slaughter these men. They’ve signed their own death warrants.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks. “Put the guns down and get the fuck away from my family.”

“I’ll tell you what I told your wife, Salvatore. You’re not calling the shots today. I am,” he says. “And I’ve decided that I’m going to collect what’s owed to my family. Ladies and children, you can stay here. Some of my men will look after you. Gents, you’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere and leaving your men with my family,” Salvatore snaps.

“You don’t got a choice.” Paulio returns to pointing the Glock at me. Instead of my spine, it’s dug into the side of my ribs, his finger hovering over the trigger.

Pure feral rage flashes in Salvatore’s eyes.

“Get away from her,” he warns.

“You heard me. Ladies stay. Gents come. We’ve got matters to discuss.”

It’s only begrudgingly that Salvatore finally listens. After he’s assessed the situation and concluded Paulio Belini holds the cards right now.

We’re at his mercy.

He makes sure to look at me from across the room, silently communicating to stay calm and do as I’m told. He’ll find a way to get us out of this situation. I give the most subtle nod of my head I can.

The henchman Paulio’s leaving behind to watch over us gestures to the couch and demands we sit down.

“Mommy, what’s going on?” whines Serena, grabbing onto my legs.

I pick her up and place her on the sofa cushion next to me. “Everything will be fine, Rena. I promise.”

Paulio and his other henchman walk out of the way behind Salvatore, Dad, Marcel, and Stitches. Their footsteps fade until they’re gone altogether and we’re forced to listen to the silence in their wake.

I release a breath I’ve been holding in and look at the man who’s been left in charge of us. He’s of average height and build, with the stoic kind of face that reveals he’s nothing more than a soldier. I could possibly take him down if I weren’t concerned with his gun going off.

It’s been years since I’ve used some of my defensive maneuvers and I’m a little rusty, but I’ve faced off against worse opponents.

Salvatore’s assessment mirrors mine—we simply have to wait until we’re able to flip the script against them and regain control.

But waiting for that to happen is its own form of torture. I sigh and pray that while we’re under gunpoint in the den, Salvatore and the others are safe upstairs. He’s well on his way to figuring out an escape out if this.