Chapter 10 - Face to Face
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"Nobody moves!" Damian roared, the sound vibrating through the wrecked store.
Briggs scrambled for his weapon, but Luca stepped through the shattered window, putting a bullet through the guard's kneecap. Briggs screamed, dropping the gun.
Damian ignored the bleeding men on the floor. His dark, furious eyes were fixed entirely on Clara. He walked toward her, his heavy boots crunching on the broken glass. He looked like a god of war, covered in dust and vengeance.
Clara backed away until she hit the back wall of the pharmacy, her heart hammering wildly. She shielded the babies, terrified of what he might do.
"Give them to me," Damian demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low octave.
Clara was shaking violently, but she didn't uncross her arms. "He has a fever. Owen. He needs medicine, he's burning up—"
Damian stopped two feet away from her. His eyes darted to the small bundles against her chest. He saw the tiny, flushed face of Owen, and the sleeping form of Oliver. The ruthless Mafia boss’s breath hitched. For a fraction of a second, the monster vanished, replaced by a desperate father.
He reached out, his large, scarred hands trembling as he gently brushed his knuckles against Owen's hot cheek.
"My boys," Damian whispered. He looked up at Clara, his expression hardening again. "Why did you take them? Who paid you?"
"Nobody paid me!" Clara cried, tears spilling over. "I saved them! Your wife was packing her jewelry while the gunmen were in the hall! She told Briggs to leave them behind!"
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The silence in the room was absolute. Damian stared at her, processing the words. He slowly turned his head to look at Briggs, who was writhing on the floor in agony.
"Is it true?" Damian asked quietly.
