Page 63 of Power
"Dario, Dario, Dario," Enzo drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."
"Wishful thinking."
He laughs. A slow, lazy sound that makes my skin crawl. "You should be thanking me. Your girl—oh, my mistake, my wife—finally grew a spine. Walked right up to me like she had a fucking death wish. Looks like she’s got more balls than you do."
Ice cuts through my veins. "Where is she?"
"Relax, Bellini. She came to me. Brave little thing. Guess she finally figured out the only way out of this is to end it herself." He tsks. "Shame, really. Spent all that time afraid of me, and now, suddenly, she’s found her courage. What do you think changed? I guess getting passed between two men like us toughened her up."
My grip tightens on the phone. "Enzo. If you fucking touch her—"
"You’ll what? Kill me?" His laugh is sharper now, all teeth. "We both know you should’ve done that a long time ago. But you didn’t. So tell me, Bellini—are you finally man enough, or are you still the same pathetic bastard whose life I wrecked all those years ago?"
The call disconnects.
I stare at the screen, heart hammering.
Then the realization slams into me with the force of a freight train.
She went to him because of me. Because she thinks this is the only way to stop the war. She thinks she can handle this alone.
She loves me.
And I fucking love her.
There’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. I grab my gun, call for Rafa, and gather my men.
We move out.
***
Enzo’s mansion looms in the distance like an arrogant display of wealth and power. It’s a sprawling estate, the kind only old money can buy—massive columns, marble steps, and tall arched windows that reflect the moonlight like shards of broken glass. The place screams opulence, but underneath all that luxury, there’s the smell of something rotten. A place where the walls have held too many secrets, the floors soaked in too much blood.
The front gates are already open, like he’s daring me to walk in.
The house is crawling with Enzo’s men, but that doesn’t matter. I came here for blood, and I won’t leave until I get it. The second we step through the doors, chaos erupts. Gunfire shatters the air, screams cutting through the thick haze of smoke and sweat.
I don’t think. I just move.
Rafa’s beside me and cuts through Enzo’s men like a blade through flesh. A man lunges. I sidestep, slam the butt of my gun into his jaw, and fire before he hits the ground. Another rushes me from the side. I pivot, drive my elbow into his throat, then spin and put a bullet in his skull before he can recover.
A blade whistles past my face. I duck, grab the attacker’s wrist, and twist until I hear a crack. He screams, but I shut him up with a bullet between the eyes. Blood splatters across my shirt. I barely notice.
A shotgun blast rips through the air, and Rafa grunts as he takes a hit to the shoulder. He stumbles but doesn’t go down.
"Keep moving, I’ll be fine!" he shouts, firing back.
I push forward, firing round after round and stepping over the bodies piling up around me. A man charges with a crowbar and aims for my skull. I catch his arm, twist it behind his back, and drive my knee into his spine. He drops like a housefly. I shoot him in the back of the head and move on.
I’ve held back before. I’ve let Enzo breathe longer than he deserved. But not tonight.
Not when he has her.
A door at the far end of the house slams shut. I don’t hesitate. I sprint for it, shoving past a wounded man who tries to grab my leg. My boot slams into his face, knocking him out cold.
I kick the door open.
I find her.
