Page 129 of Unholy Union
I take a step closer.
“Take another step and I swear to god I’ll fucking do it!”
“You’d kill your own daughter just to get back at me?”
His jaw trembles, chest heaving like a man on the verge of sobbing. The sound he lets out is somewhere between a guttural howl and a choked scream.
“Ineedmy revenge!” he barks. “It’s not fucking fair! Your fucking family took everything from me! You took Mariella andthen you took Leo. It’s all you’ve ever done… and I’m going to make you pay. I’m going to take from you like you took from me!”
Spit flies from his mouth; he’s practically foaming. Sweat gleams on his round face, his features clenched in rage, grief, madness. The gun in his hand swings as he rants and raves, screaming at the top of his lungs.
He’s truly lost it, but it’s the opening I need to do it.
Finally end this.
I lift my arm and pull the trigger.
The bullet hits him clean in the neck. Blood sprays like water from a severed pipe, the stream a dark crimson. He clutches at the wound, gurgling as he stumbles back. His knees buckle under his weight and his gun clatters to the ground.
He collapses in a heap just feet from where Sabrina sits in wide-eyed shock.
I move toward Corsini’s body first, checking for a pulse despite his torn open neck.
After the day we’ve had, you can never be too sure.
His skin is still warm but the pulse is gone. I reach down and strip the pistol from his limp grip and tuck it into the waistband of my slacks, the metal slick with blood.
“Cato!”
Sabrina’s cry makes my head whip up. Papà’s crawled the couple feet to Mario Pompa’s gun and picked it up, clutching it in both hands as he raises it at us.
His aim’s clearly off, the way his arms quake and his eyes remain unfocused. He’s bleeding out, the bullet he’s taken to the gut doing serious damage.
But like his nemesis Rinaldo, even on the brink of death, he can’t let his thirst for revenge go.
“It’s over, Cato,” he grinds out. “The Corsinis are finished. It’s done. And now we finish the rest of it. All of it. We end this tonight.”
His eyes flick to her.
“That includes her,” he spits. “She can never be trusted?—”
I don’t let him finish, raising my gun and emptying the rest of my clip into him with no hesitation.
Each bullet finds its mark—stomach, chest, shoulder, neck, one through the cheek. He slumps back on the ground, splaying out with his arms and legs spread at his sides. His eyes stay open, staring blankly up at the warehouse ceiling, a thin stream of blood trailing down his jaw.
There’s no guilt on my end. Only an immense sense of relief.
It’s finally fucking over.
I cross the distance to Sabrina, heart pounding for a different reason. She’s still bound to the chair, my poor little wife looking like she’s suffered more than she’s ever deserved to.
I crouch in front of her, quickly working the knots loose. Her wrists are bruised and raw from the ropes. The second her arms are free, she launches forward, wrapping them tight around my neck. I catch her and pull her close, holding her against my chest as her entire body quakes.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, burying my face in her dark curls. I inhale the sweet citrusy smell of hers, a scent that’s quickly become my favorite. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”
She pulls back for a look up at me. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I should’ve trusted you. I didn’t… I didn’t know?—”
“Shhh.” I cup her face in my palms, stroking my thumbs along her cheeks. “It’s okay, principessa. Don’t you see? They did this to us. Our fathers. They spent years turning us into enemies for their war, feeding us half-truths and poison and expecting us to finish what they started. But they’re gone now. And we’re still here.”
