Page 74 of Shield

The elevator grinds to an abrupt halt, the metal walls trembling. Matti licks the mark he just made on my skin and smirks, then grabs his suitcase and takes my hand, leading me off the elevator.

I’m looking down, maneuvering my suitcase over the threshold, when Matti stops short. I glance up at him, confused.

His expression is cold, his jaw tight. My pulse stutters as I follow his gaze.

Franco is blocking the only exit, a glass door that appears to lead into a parking garage. One arm is cinched around Valentina’s neck, and he’s pressing the muzzle of a gun to her temple.

Her eyes are heavy, lipstick smeared, mascara streaking her cheeks. The shoulder of her dress is torn, and the once-modest slit just above the knee is ripped to her waist.

“Hello, fuckers,” sneers Franco. “Now that you’re done fucking my whore sister, I’m here to relieve you of your suitcases.”

Shock spikes through my veins like ice. I look at Valentina for some clue as to what’s going on, but she’s barely clinging to consciousness.

Franco nods at my suitcase, and I look to Matti for guidance, heart hammering.

Matti steps in front of me. “Put the gun down, Franco. We both know that this is just another half-ass attempt to get Aurelio’s attention.”

Franco scoffs. “Fuck that. I’m done dealing with that fat old fuck. You and I both know that he’s on his way out. What you don’t know is that I’m on my way up.”

“Really. Let’s say we give you the bags. What happens next? You just go home? Try to pawn some of the rarest gems and unique jewelry designs in the world? Sell it off to some asshole you once put away for fencing stolen goods in your shitty, corrupt career?”

Matti shakes his head mockingly, his voice dripping with derision. I shift, edging out from behind him for a better view.

“That’s your problem, Franco,” he says. “You never think things through.”

Franco’s grip tightens around Valentina’s throat, his armflexing as she claws at him, her wide eyes starting to bulge. “I have more connections than you think.” He bares his teeth in something between a smirk and a snarl. “And maybe you have fewer than you think. You’ve been out of the loop too long, Matti. Weeks on the road. Weeks fucking my cunt sister. Things change.”

“Nothing will ever change that much, Franco,” Matti replies evenly.

He looks almost bored, steady and composed, while Franco twitches like he’s on the edge of snapping. Valentina’s body sags slightly in his grip, losing her fight against his arm cutting off her air.

Pride in Matti, disgust with Franco, and fear for Valentina swirl together as I bite back the bile that rises in my throat.

Matti exhales, his tone pitying. “Look, I know you’ve been trying to carve out a place in the Demonio family for a long time. But Franco, you’re a cop. You had to know from the start there was always a ceiling on how far you could go.”

Franco growls, suddenly jerking the gun away from Valentina’s temple and firing two shots above his head.

I flinch, but Matti doesn’t move except to slowly grab a fistful of my shirt and pull me back to where I was behind him.

“I don’t give a FUCK about what you think my ceiling is.” Franco wipes his nose with the back of his hand holding the gun, nostrils flaring. “You’re not the mother fucking boss, Matti.”

Valentina wobbles, struggling to stay upright. Franco slams the butt of his gun against her skull, and she crumples to the floor.

“Let the women go, Franco,” Matti says, carefully reachinginto his back waistband for his gun.

I grab his hand before he can draw, and he freezes. Franco is a reckless, misguided moron, but he’s also my brother. I’m confident that Matti had nothing to do with Emily’s death, but if he kills Franco, it will destroy everything we’ve built.

Matti exhales, long and slow, then shakes his head slightly, his way of telling me to let go. I don’t.

Oblivious to how close he is to death, Franco sneers. “Do you even know your history? Our history? Dragovari isn’t a name in this world. Your father wasn’t shit. Your mother was no one. But Bellamorte—” He thumps his chest. “That name carries weight. It carries power. You’re just a lackey for a fat greaseball circling the drain. Me? I’ve got generations of power behind me. And I’m willing to put in the mother fucking WORK.”

Matti’s hand stays at the gun at his waistband as he tries to swat mine away, but I don’t budge, keeping my grip firm. He exhales sharply and darts a half glance back at me, frustrated.

When I still don’t move, he tilts his head at Franco, unimpressed with his rant. “What work, Franco?”

Matti pulls his hand away from his gun and reaches into his front pocket. He pulls something out and tosses it at Franco’s feet. It clinks against the floor, the dim light catching on the broken watch band and shattered face—my watch, my father’s watch, the one I found in Emily’s things.

Matti continues, his tone mocking, disgusted. “This work? You’re so fucking proud of your family line that you took out one of your own?”

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