Page 64 of The Enforcer's Possession
“Stay close,” I told her, my voice rougher than intended.“We’re not done yet.”
Her eyes met mine, and I saw the fierce determination beneath the arousal and fear.“I know.”
Movement flickered in my peripheral vision -- wrong angle and timing.I started to turn, started to bring my weapon around, but the geometry was already off.A hidden gunman was emerging from behind stacked pallets twenty meters back, his rifle already raised and tracking, the barrel aimed squarely at my exposed back.
Time stretched the way it did when you knew death was coming and couldn’t stop it.I was turning but the angle was bad, my Glock still tracking left when the threat was coming from behind-right.Three quarters of a second to complete the turn.The gunman needed maybe half that to squeeze his trigger.The math was simple and unforgiving.
Then two shots cracked through the warehouse, sharp and precise.Not from the gunman’s position.From behind me.From where Caterina stood.
I completed my turn in time to see the hidden gunman jerk backward, red blooming across his chest.Center mass.Textbook double-tap.His rifle clattered from his hands as he stumbled, tried to stay upright, and failed.He collapsed against the pallets and slid down, leaving a smear of blood on the wood.
My brain caught up to what had happened.Caterina had shot him.Had seen the threat I’d missed, had raised her weapon, had squeezed the trigger twice with enough accuracy to drop him before he could fire.Had killed a man to save my life.
I turned fully to face her, found her still in shooting stance -- feet planted, both hands on the pistol grip, arms extended in the position I’d taught her during the brief weapons familiarization before we’d left.The Glock I’d given her was still raised, still pointed at where the gunman had been, her finger properly indexed along the frame instead of on the trigger now that the threat was eliminated.
She’d remembered everything I’d taught her.And she’d executed under pressure without freezing.
The warehouse echoed with the gunshots’ aftermath, that ringing silence that followed violence.Rizzo and his team had spun at the sound, weapons tracking for additional threats, but they were lowering them now as they processed what had happened.
Caterina’s arms began to tremble.Small shakes at first, then more pronounced as the adrenaline spike crashed into the reality of what she’d done.She’d taken a life.Watched a man die because she’d put bullets in his chest.The weight of that was hitting her now that the immediate danger had passed.
But she didn’t lower the weapon.Didn’t break her stance.Didn’t look away from the body she’d made.I felt pride.Definitely arousal.And so much more.
My wife had killed for me.Had taken a life without hesitation to preserve mine.Had proven herself lethal when it mattered most.
I closed the distance between us in three strides, my hand coming up to cover hers on the pistol grip.“Good shot,” I said, and my voice came out rough with emotion I hadn’t intended to reveal.
She finally looked away from the body, her eyes finding mine.They were still wide, pupils blown from adrenaline and the aftermath of violence.But beneath the shock, I saw something else.Determination.Fierce pride in what she’d accomplished.Maybe even satisfaction at proving herself capable.
“I told you I wasn’t just here to watch,” she said, and her voice only shook slightly.
I wanted to pull her against me.Wanted to press my mouth to hers and taste the violence we’d shared.Wanted to drag her into the nearest corner and fuck her until the adrenaline burned off in a different kind of intensity.But Rizzo and his team were watching, and Luca was still behind that secured door, and Marco was still alive somewhere in this building.
So I settled for easing the pistol from her grip, engaging the safety, and tucking it into her holster with movements that were steadier than I felt.My hands found her shoulders, holding her still while I studied her face.
“You did well.”Simple words but weighted with meaning she’d understand.“But your hands are shaking.You need to breathe.”
She took a breath.Then another.The trembling in her hands began to subside as she forced control back over her body’s stress response.I watched her rebuild her composure, watched her push the horror and shock and pride into whatever mental compartment she needed them in to keep functioning.
Lombardi training.Giuseppe had taught both his children how to manage trauma and keep moving.I’d seen it in Giuseppe during negotiations that followed violent operations.Now I was seeing it in his daughter as she processed her first kill.
“I’m okay.”She pulled back slightly from my grip, testing her own steadiness.“I’m okay.”
“I know.”I released her shoulders but stayed close, my presence an anchor if she needed it.“But when this is over, when Luca’s safe, you’re going to crash hard.That’s normal.That’s expected.”
“When this is over,” she repeated, and her jaw set in that stubborn line, “I’m going to make sure Marco pays for every second of terror he put my brother through.”
The words came out cold.Certain.Not a threat but a promise.And I believed her completely.I looked at Caterina, saw her fear resurface but watched her contain it.“Ready?”
She glanced at the body she’d made, at the blood spreading across concrete, at the evidence of her capability.Then her eyes came back to mine, clear and determined.“Ready.”
Emergency lighting cast harsh shadows that made everything look like a crime scene photograph.Which it was.Would be.When this was over and Giuseppe’s people came to clean up the evidence, they’d catalog everybody, every shell casing, every blood spatter.They’d document the small war we’d fought to extract one nineteen-year-old kid from a madman’s leverage play.
But right now, all that mattered was the reinforced door ahead and what waited behind it.
Caterina stayed beside me as we approached, close enough that I felt her warmth against my side.Close enough that I could reach out and steady her if she needed it.But she was walking on her own strength now, her breathing controlled, her focus entirely on the mission.
She’d proven herself tonight.Proven she could handle violence, could execute under pressure, could kill when necessary.Proven she was more than Giuseppe’s sheltered daughter.
