Page 66 of Until the Ink runs Crimson

I’m already moving, stepping from the shadows, my boots hitting the wet concrete with purpose. Ethan’s the first to fire, a shot that hits a guard square in the chest. The man crumples, his body falling to the ground.

"Take them down!" I shout, my voice rising over the chaos. "No prisoners!"

The fight erupts in a bloody mess of gunfire, shouts, and chaos. Cain picks off two more from his position, the silenced shots echoing through the night like whispers of death. Ethan and Aaron are on the ground with me, exchanging fire with the enemy. We’ve done this before—too many times, but it never gets easier.

And then I see her—Calista. She’s not just standing back, watching. She’s moving, a deadly force of nature in her own right. A man lunges at her with a knife, a sick grin on his face, thinking she’s an easy target. But he’s clueless. He’s never seen what she’s truly capable of.

With lightning speed, Calista sidesteps, grabs him by the wrist, and drives her knee into his gut. The breath goes out of him, and before he can recover, she kicks him in the chest—hard. He stumbles back, and she gives him no room to breathe. In one fluid motion, she pulls a gun from her holster, shoots him point-blank, and he crumples to the ground.

A loud scream escapes her as she stands over him. "That’s for my brother, you bastards!" Her voice is raw, filled with fury, and I can feel it reverberating in my chest. The blood of her family—of her brother, Noel—is what’s driving her now. I know she feels it in every breath.

I catch a glimpse of her face as she stands over the body. There’s no hesitation in her eyes. No remorse. This is war, and she’s all in.

One of Zano’s men tries to flank her from the side. She doesn’t even recoil as she turns and shoots him in the head, his body hitting the ground before he even has a chance to make a sound. I watch her as she moves through the chaos, her movements calculated, precise, and deadly. She’s more than just the fire now; she’s a force in her own right.

And I’m damn proud of her.

The battle rages on, gunfire echoing through the night as my men and I push forward, clearing the area of Zano’s forces. The bloodshed is almost beautiful in its simplicity. Kill or be killed. It’s the only rule that matters. We’re tearing through them, one by one, every shot landing with brutal accuracy.

But just as I’m about to take another shot, I see Zano. He’s trying to make a run for it, slipping past the remaining guards. I curse under my breath.

"Dammit!" I shout, adrenaline surging through my veins. "Don’t let him escape!"

I take off running, my boots pounding against the wet concrete. Ethan and Aaron are right behind me, closing the gap. Zano’s not getting away this time.

He reaches his jeep, pulling at the door handle with desperate hands, but it’s too late. I raise my air gun, the dart shooting out and striking him in the side. He falters, his movements becoming slower, his body finally betraying him.

I see the fear in his eyes as the tranquilizer takes hold, his body jerking with the effects. He stumbles, then drops to his knees. He’s done.

I approach him slowly, not rushing, savoring the moment. "You thought you could escape me?" I ask, my voice a low growl, like a predator closing in.

Zano glares at me, blood dripping from his mouth. The defiance is still there, but it’s fading fast. His body is betraying him, the poison sinking deeper.

"Fuck you," he rasps, barely able to get the words out.

I kneel in front of him, locking eyes. "No, Zano. This is where it ends for you."

He tries to stand, tries to fight, but his body is failing him. He slumps forward, unconscious. I can’t help but feel a small, twisted satisfaction at the sight. This is how it ends.

"Take him," I say, nodding toward Ethan and Aaron. "We’ll deal with him at the warehouse."

Chapter 27 – Calista

The storm outside is a full-blown tantrum—wind howling like it's pissed off, rain slamming into the roof like it’s trying to break through. Fitting, really. Nature throwing a fucking fit the same night Zano De Corsi finally gets dragged through hell.

I saw Lazaro take a shot at Zano and headed to the warehouse because I knew that’s where they’d bring him. The doors creak open, and in come Ethan and Crivelli, hauling Zano’s sorry ass between them, with Lazaro following close behind. He looks like shit—face swollen, blood crusted down one side. His fancy shirt’s in tatters, stained dark from everything leaking out of him. His hands are tied behind his back, plastic cable ties digging so deep into his wrists that I’m guessing he stopped feeling them a while ago.

He stumbles, knees giving out, but Ethan yanks him back up by the hair.

My boots slap against the concrete floor, soaked through, but none of it matters. My black coat’s dripping, my clothes underneath sticking to my skin like a second layer of armor. I don’t feel cold. I feel fucking electric. Like violence is breathing just beneath my skin, waiting for a green light.

Zano sees me. His one good eye narrows, and then that familiar smirk—crooked and soaked in blood—crawls onto his face.

"Well fuck me," he rasps. "So this is what you traded up to, Virelli?"

Lazaro doesn’t even blink. He steps forward, slow and deadly. "No. This is the woman you never deserved."

Zano’s laugh is a wet cough. Blood spatters the floor.

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