Page 23 of Secret Revenge

“You underestimate me,” I said, tightening my grip on a piece of broken asphalt. The chill seeped into my skin, but it did nothing to quell the fire that raged within.

“Let’s see about that, Romano,” he challenged, lunging once more. But this time, I was ready. With a calculated swing, I brought the asphalt crashing down on Joshua’s skull. A sickening crunch echoed through the night air, and his eyes rolled back as his body slumped to the ground, unconscious. I lunged for my gun, this fight not yet over. Turning, I shot over my car to keep any of Clemmons’s men down. I limped around the car and found only one man breathing.

“Nicholas Romao,” he wheezed, “You’re under arrest-”

I shot him. Ther was no way I would let some corrupt cop try to arrest me

“Turner... I’m sorry,” I whispered, my heart heavy with grief. He had given everything to protect me and my family, and now he lay lifeless before me - a sacrifice I could never repay.

A searing pain flared through my arm and leg, ripping me from the haze of victory. Clenching my teeth, I glanced down at the crimson stains soaking my clothes. The urgency of my injuries became all too apparent, and I knew immediate medical attention was essential if I wanted any chance of survival.

The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as I bit down on my lip, willing myself not to succumb to the pain threatening to consume me.

I grasped the cold handle of my car door. The sharp chill shot through my fingers, grounding me in the present moment. I heaved myself into the driver’s seat, wincing as my wounds protested with every movement.

I sped through the dark alleys and backstreets, my knowledge of the city’s labyrinthine layout serving as my guide. The shadows danced along the walls, taunting me with their elusive nature. My heart raced, my body tense with anticipation of potential pursuers. I was a wounded predator, but I would not go down without a fight.

The acrid scent of blood filled the car, a constant reminder of the night’s events. My grip on the wheel tightened, the leather groaning beneath my fingers. The pain in my arm and leg throbbed, but there was no time for weakness.

As I turned onto our street, the familiar sight of our home loomed before me. Warm light spilled from the windows, a stark contrast to the cold darkness that enveloped me. I parked the car and killed the engine, steeling myself for the confrontation that awaited within.

“Keep it together, Nicholas,” I muttered, forcing my battered body out of the car. “You can’t let Liliana see how much this has cost you.”

I limped up the walkway, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. The taste of iron lingered on my tongue, the metallic tang a constant reminder of my injuries. I reached the door and hesitated for a moment, willing my trembling hands to steady themselves. Then, I twisted the knob and stepped inside.

“Nicholas!” Liliana cried out, her eyes wide with fear as she took in my bloodied form. “Oh God, what happened?”

“Joshua Clemmons,” I said through gritted teeth, forcing myself to stand tall despite the pain that threatened to bring me to my knees. “He’s the mole, and he’d been using Sophia to gather information on your family. When you married me, he used her to find out about me.”

“Turner told you this?” she asked, her voice trembling with concern.

I nodded. “He paid a heavy price for his loyalty, Liliana. He didn’t make it out of that ambush.”

A strangled sob escaped her lips as she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me. The contact sent a jolt of agony through my body, but I bit back the cry that threatened to escape. I couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing just how much pain I was in.

“Turner...he always tried to do right by us, even when we doubted him,” she whispered into my chest, her warm breath ghosting over my skin. “We owe him so much.”

Chapter 11

Nicholas

The kitchen was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken tension as Doctor Deluca and Liliana tended to my wounds. I sat on a wooden chair, stripped to my boxer briefs, wincing as Elena inspected the gashes left by Joshua’s knife.

“Nicholas,” Elena scolded gently, “you’re lucky none of these cuts hit an artery. You’re getting too old for knife fights.” She held up a blood-soaked gauze pad, her eyes narrowing in mock disapproval. “You’re the don, you’ve got men to go out and get hurt for you.”

As much as it stung to admit it, she was right. My pride, however, refused to let me concede so easily. “Some things require a hands-on approach,” I replied gruffly, though my voice was strained from the pain.

The sterile medical equipment - gleaming scalpels, curved suture needles, and rolls of pristine white gauze - lay neatly arranged on the polished granite countertop. The faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air, a stark reminder of the violence that had unfolded earlier. It seemed almost surreal that such a brutal encounter could be mended by a few simple tools and the steady hands of a skilled doctor.

Liliana stood beside Elena, her delicate fingers trembling ever so slightly as she assisted in cleaning and dressing my wounds. Her deep brown eyes were filled with concern and fear, but there was also a fire there - a determination that intrigued me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Liliana asked me softly, brushing a strand of dark chestnut hair behind her ear. “There’s no shame in getting help when you need it.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I muttered, gritting my teeth as Elena stitched one of the deeper gashes closed. My body tensed, but I suppressed any obvious signs of weakness. I couldn’t afford to show vulnerability, not even in front of my wife and doctor..

“Your father paid for my medical schooling, Nicholas,” Elena said as she worked. “He knew the importance of having a skilled doctor in the family. You should trust more in those around you. Feeling pain isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of a properly functioning nervous system.”

I closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of the thread being pulled through flesh and knotted tight. It was strangely soothing, a counterpoint to the pain that radiated from each puncture. I knew Elena was right, but it was easier said than done. Trust didn’t come easily in our world, and recent events had only reinforced that fact.

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