Page 50 of Dario DeLuca

TWENTY-ONE

DARIO

Chaos eruptsas people scatter in panic. Before my mind can process what's happening, my instincts take over. I lunge forward, tackling Mia to the floor and shielding her body with my own. Her startled gasp is muffled against my chest as bullets whiz overhead.

Fear grips my heart. The need to protect her consumes every fiber of my being. I desperately scan her for any sign of injury, blood, a wound—anything that could've slipped past my guard. But she's unharmed, merely shaken by the sudden violence.

Her wide eyes meet mine, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around us fades away. A silent understanding passes between us—whatever this threat may be, we'll face it together.

Screams pierce the air, dragging my focus back to the danger at hand. One shrill cry rises above the rest, its anguished pitch chilling my blood. Craning my neck, I catch a glimpse of a figure sprawled on the floor, crimson blooming across their chest—the mayor—her father.

People swarm around him like vultures. Mia tenses beneath me, desperate to get closer, to see for herself. I pull her tighter against my body, shielding her from the grim reality, but she fights my hold.

"Let me see!" Her voice is strained, edged with fear and desperation. "Dario, please!"

I refuse to release her, unwilling to expose her to such brutality. But Mia is relentless, squirming and clawing until finally she wrenches free.

And there it is—the precise moment when her anger toward her father shatters into a million irreparable pieces. Raw anguish contorts her beautiful features as realization crashes over her in relentless waves. All the bitterness and resentment she's harbored evaporates, leaving only a daughter's love for her dying parent.

Tears stream down her cheeks as broken sobs wrack her curvy frame. Without hesitation, I gather her into my embrace, cradling her against my chest as she crumples beneath the weight of her grief. My fingers thread through her soft curls, offering meager comfort as her world unravels before our eyes.

We rush over to where her mother is hovering over her father.

The mayor gasps for air, struggling to speak as blood splatters from his mouth. “Jo?—”

“Shh. Marcus, don’t talk. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay,” Josephine recites over and over. "Someone help him!” she yells.

Josephine meets my eyes, her face streaked with tears and makeup, her expensive dress smeared with her husband's blood.

"Dario," she cries, gripping my arm with trembling hands. "You were supposed to protect us. He came to you for protection. Do something!"

Her words cut deep, rubbing my face in my failure to keep them safe. White-hot shame and anger surge through my veins as I hold Mia tighter, turning so that my back is to the crowd to shield her against any further threats. If the shooter is still inthe room and wants to take another shot, I would rather take the bullet than her.

"Get the women to safety," I growl at Rafael over my shoulder, gesturing towards Mia, Josephine, and Gabby. "Now."

But Mia's mother shakes her head vehemently, refusing to be pried away from her husband's side. "No. I won't leave Marcus."

The screams, the chaos, the stench of blood and gunpowder—it's like being submerged in a waking nightmare. I should've seen this coming and knew they wouldn't stop until they'd taken everything from me. We neutralized the threat, or so I thought. There was no evidence, no hints that someone else had been pulling the strings.

"Josephine..." My voice is a low rumble, barely contained frustration vibrating beneath the surface. "You need to go. Now. Let me handle this."

She's not listening, her grief overriding all reason as she sobs and clutches at her husband's still form. Mia joins her cries, her small hands fisted in the fabric of my shirt as if it's her only anchor in this storm.

Enough.

I have to get them out of here before any more violence rains down. Steeling myself, I pry Mia's hands from my chest and shove her toward Rafael.

"Take them," I snarl, the command laced with a lethal promise if he fails to obey.

Mia yells, fighting me like a wildcat as I forcibly drag her toward the back exit. "No. No. I won’t go. My dad— Mommy.”

Hearing the pain in Mia's voice, the hurt that she may be losing her father ignites a fury within me. Whoever is behind this attack will pay dearly.

“Mia, baby. It’s okay. Go with Dario. Let him keep you safe.” Josephine orders, snot running down her face.

“I won’t leave you.” Mia shakes her head while reaching out for her mother.

“Go,” Josephine barks at me.

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