Page 86 of Ruined By Blood
"No!" I shout, moving toward her. "Not a fucking chance?—"
"Enzo, please," Sienna's eyes lock with mine, filled with resignation and something else I can't name. "I won't let people die for me."
"Listen to the girl," the messenger says. "She understands the situation."
I step between Sienna and the door, my back to her, gun still trained on the intruder. "You don't touch her. You don't fucking look at her. This isn't happening."
"Sienna, go with Zoe," Damiano orders from his position, not taking his eyes off the threat.
I feel Sienna's hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
Something in her voice makes me turn, just enough to see her step around me, moving toward the messenger. It happens in slow motion—her chin up, shoulders back, walking toward certain death with more courage than I knew anyone possessed.
"No!" I lunge forward, reaching for her.
The messenger moves with unexpected speed. He grabs Sienna's arm, yanking her against his chest as his other hand produces a pistol that he presses to her temple.
I freeze, my blood turning to ice.
"That's better," the man says, backing up a step. "You know how this works, Feretti. One wrong move and she goes down with me."
The gun barrel digs into Sienna's temple, hard enough that she winces. Her eyes find mine.
"Let her go," I say, my voice dropping to something barely human. "You have no idea what I'll do to you."
"I have some idea," the man responds coolly. "But bythen, she'll have a bullet in her brain. Is that what you want?"
Sienna swallows, her eyes never leaving mine. "It's okay, Enzo," she says softly. "This was always how it was going to end."
"Shut up," the man snaps at her, pressing the gun harder against her head.
Every muscle in my body trembles with the effort of restraint. I've never felt this kind of rage before. White-hot and all-consuming. My vision narrows until all I can see is the gun at Sienna's head and the face of the man I'm going to dismember piece by fucking piece.
"Enzo," Damiano's voice comes from somewhere beside me. "Stand down."
I don't move. Can't move. My finger twitches on the trigger.
"I'm so sorry for all this mess," she continues, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. "For bringing this to your home, to your family."
She turns her gaze to my brother. "Damiano, I'm sorry. You welcomed me, and this is how I repay you."
Damiano's jaw tightens, but his eyes never leave the messenger holding Sienna.
I calculate angles, scenarios, probabilities—like I've done countless times in lethal situations. But none of those times had Sienna's life hanging by the twitch of a finger. If I move, she dies. If Damiano or Alessio fire, she dies.
We're outmaneuvered, and the knowledge burns like acid in my veins.
"Look at me," I command the messenger, my voice dropping to something barely recognizable. "Look at my fucking face and remember it. Because it's the last thing you'll seeon this earth when I find you. Tell Henry, now that he has Sienna, I expect no more surprises from now on."
I deliberately use Sterling's first name, a calculated disrespect. I need this messenger to carry more than just Sienna back to Sterling.
"The next surprise," I continue, "will be mine to deliver."
Sienna's face is streaked with tears, but her composure doesn't crack. Even now, with death pressed against her temple, she holds herself with dignity that makes my chest ache.
The messenger starts backing toward the door, dragging Sienna with him. "Wise choice, Feretti. Tell your men to stand down as we leave. Any pursuit, any shots, and she's dead."
"You heard him," Damiano orders without looking away. "Let them pass."
