The room contains several tables, serving as some kind of break room. The moment I reveal myself, three men instantly spring from their seats.
Utilizing the one skill Isaac—no,Dominic—left me with, I fire two rounds at the man advancing toward me, dodging the other guard’s closed fist. One of them does his best to alarm the others with a yell, but I lodge a bullet into the crook of his kneecap as I'm lifting from the floor, shooting one into his chest that will ensure the kill. The third soldier, realizing I'm no ordinary woman, bolts toward the fire alarm hidden in the corner of the room. My teeth grind painfully as I power my legs faster until I'm right on his heels. His hand slips from the silent alarm as I pierce holes into his back, using the blade to surge it through him for good measure.
When he drops to the ground, not quite yet dead, I benddown, sliding the bloody weapon through his kidneys as well, just eager to feel the cutting of skin, so hateful I think nothing else could give me solace but that.
My life is destroyed. The chances of making it out of this place alive are unlikely.
I’ll wage my war until I can’t.
As I tread cautiously past occupied rooms, I’m straining to catch the raw, guttural sounds of a man stifling a scream. It’s all I can hear, reverberating through every debilitated corridor. The call of my husband’s suffering beckons me closer, guiding me through the darkness until I encounter the irritating odor of gunpowder, rust, and damp hay.
I see the remains of a factory. Twisting staircases leading to assembly lines that snake around the upper floors like a maze.
My frigid eyes narrow, drawn to a whisp of movement at the bottom level—a stark silhouette sprawled flat against one of those conveyor belts. My insides strain to the point of pain, and my eyes bulge with rage when I notice my father hunched over my husband, unwinding a corkscrew from the flat area of his palm.
“It didn’t have to end this way, Marcello,” my father gloats, his voice laced with pure menace. “You were free to go. Fuck, you just don’t quit, do you? She’s gone now. Left you again, and you still don’t get it. Own up to your mistakes. Falling for Sophia Marin was one of them.”
Xavier can barely muster a word, but when he does, he ensures it carries weight. It slips from his lips after a faint laugh. “Marcello.”
“What did you say?”
“HernameisMarcello.”
Vito’s initial silence speaks volumes.
The man cannot comprehend love. Real, undying love.
I feel my legs straighten, rigid like hardened steel, my wrath plunging to depths I’ve never charted, a place where no mercyexists. Xavier is gasping for air, each breath a ragged, violent struggle—and all I can focus on is that he’s still alive, too consumed by the need for revenge to acknowledge the pain they’ve inflicted on him.
My legs are moving before I’ve even devised a plan, my gaze fixed on my father as I scale the steps, knowing I have just seconds to make count. I’ve never moved so fluidly, as if I were made to be this. A cold-blooded monster in the dark, stabbing unaware guards before they have a chance to scream. It all happens in the shadows as I find myself sprawled on the last step, my leather belt lodged against a soldier’s neck. My boot is still digging into the railing when my hands catch up with my brain as if I’m coming in and out of consciousness.
He’s dead. You can let go.
But I’m pinned beneath him. Blood seeps onto my clothes as I shove him aside with a weak grunt, digging my hand into a painful spot in my ribs to alleviate the pain. I can’t stop.
One shot. You haveoneshot, Sophie.
Make it count.
Before someone notices the massacre I’ve waged above our heads, I cross the room, eyes locked on the back of my father’s skull. That balding crown that houses absoluteatrocities.
The bastard who held me down by my throat, robbing all of the oxygen from my body. That beat me whenever he felt like it, whenever I failed to obey him. That killed my family and discarded me for worse than dead.
My footsteps carve my path with lethal silence, drowned out by the storm lashing the metal roof. For me, there is no one else here but the man who brought me into this life to sell me to the highest bidder. A man incapable of remorse, driven by a thirst for power so intense that he fails to notice when death creeps up behind him.
Vito’s blocking my line of sight to Xavier, but the guard at the south door catches a glimpse as I emerge into the light.
His eyes widen in shock as if he has encountered a surreal illusion, struggling to comprehend the sight of a vengeful woman drenched in the blood of his comrades.
When I lift the gun, aiming across the room at the guard, squeezing the Micarta handle of the fighting knife in my other hand, I'm nearly smiling, driven mad by the sick need to make Vito Marin pay.
I couldn’t do it a few hours ago, but I can now.
“Boss—”
One chance.
My gun fires, and at the same moment, I’m pressed up tightly to my father’s back, my eyes locked on the veins throbbing ominously in his thick throat while he works another screw into Xavier’s undamaged hand.
