Chapter 14 - The Monster Unveiled
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The warehouse fell into a sudden, ringing silence, broken only by the groans of the dying and the smell of sulfur and blood.
Christopher held Lorenzo pinned against the crate, his pistol pressed directly beneath the Calabrian’s chin. Lorenzo was weeping, clutching his shattered, bleeding hand.
“You think this is over, Vitali?” Lorenzo spat, blood flying from his lips. “My uncle will send an army! The ’Ndrangheta will burn Boston to the ground!”
“Let them come,” Christopher said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion, a cold, empty void. “I will send them back your head as a warning.”
“Christopher, stop!” I screamed, struggling to sit up on the floor, the zip-ties cutting into my wrists.
Christopher froze. He looked over his shoulder at me. His face was splattered with blood, his dark eyes wide and wild with violence. For a horrifying second, I didn't recognize the man looking at me.
I saw the monster he had warned me about. The ruthless killer who ruled the underworld.
He looked from me, back to Lorenzo. The Calabrian boss was sobbing, begging for his life in rapid Italian.
Christopher’s jaw clenched. He slowly lowered the pistol from Lorenzo’s chin.
He didn't shoot him in the head. He shot him in both kneecaps.
Lorenzo’s agonizing screams echoed in the cavernous space as he collapsed to the floor.
“Bind his wounds,” Christopher ordered his men coldly. “Keep him alive. I want him sent back to Calabria in a wheelchair to deliver my message personally.”
Christopher turned away from the carnage and sprinted toward me. He dropped to his knees, pulling a knife from his boot, and sliced the zip-ties off my wrists.
Before I could process the violence I had just witnessed, he pulled me fiercely into his chest. He buried his face in my neck, his entire body trembling violently.
“Are you hurt?” he gasped, his voice cracking, the ruthless mafia boss disappearing entirely into the terrified man who thought he had lost me. “Emily, tell me you’re not hurt.”
“My ribs,” I winced, wrapping my arms around his tactical vest. “But I’m alive.”
He pulled back, his bloody hands gently cupping my face. He looked deep into my eyes, searching for the disgust and fear he expected to find after I witnessed his true nature.
I didn't pull away. I didn't flinch from the blood on his skin. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, tasting the salt of his tears and the soot of the gunfire.
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“You came for me,” I whispered against his mouth.
“I will always come for you,” Christopher vowed, lifting me gently into his arms. “Let’s go home.”
