Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
My muscles tighten, and my finger brushes against the trigger.
The moment I hear footsteps nearing the office we’re hiding in, I move forward. I’m met by three men and manage to shoot one in the chest and another in his thigh. Grabbing the one with the chest wound, I use him as a shield while I finish off the other two.
Just then, Milo comes running down the hallway.
I exchange the submachine gun for one of the others lying on the floor and check the clip before I look at Milo and ask, “Where’s Lorenzo?”
He shakes his head, a flash of heartache tightening his features.
No.
As the loss of Lorenzo grips my heart, I shake my head.
“He took a bullet for me,” Milo mutters.
Christ.
I clench my jaw as relentless heartache pours into my chest. He was one of my best men and I considered him a close friend.
We hear the elevator doors open, and Milo pushes me back into the office where Samantha is hiding.
Suddenly, gunfire erupts from outside the building, and it makes the corner of my mouth lift. “They’re here.”
“Thank fuck,” Milo breathes.
I lock eyes with him. “Ready?”
When he nods, we dart out of the office and open fire on the fuckers.
The moment it’s safe, I shout, “Come, Samantha.”
Within seconds, she’s right behind me, and we rush to the stairwell so we can head down to where the other four heads of the Cosa Nostra are eliminating the enemy.
As we move from the fifth floor to the fourth, men come running up the stairs, and Milo and I open fire on them.
We step over the dead bodies and keep killing the fuckers as we make our way toward the ground floor.
Suddenly, Samantha lets out a shriek. I swing around, and seeing one of the fuckers has his hand around her ankle, I bury a bullet in his head to make sure he fucking dies.
Grabbing hold of her hand, I pull her closer and position her between Milo and me before we continue to move.
Slowly, the sound of gunfire fades away, and by the time we reach the ground floor, we’re met with a sea of bodies in the main lobby.
Samantha
Horrified out of my ever-loving mind, I gag at the sight of blood and death in the lobby.
Overcome with the most sickening feeling I’ve ever had, I cover my mouth with my hand as if it will stop me from vomiting.
I take in the bodies, the blood, the weapons, and the other men who all look scary as hell.
I recognize two of them from when they came to the office last week.
“Jesus Christ,” the scariest of the group mutters before he crouches down and searches the pockets of a dead man.
Mr. Vitale takes the gun from my trembling hand and tucks it behind his back into the waistband of his pants.
Guns. Blood. Death.
I shake my head, unable to process the immense shock and terror I experienced today.
I’m surrounded by men.
“Fuck. It’s the Slovak mafia,” one of the men growls. “I recognize the tattoos.”
Mafia?
“Who the fuck did you piss off, Franco?” Another asks.
What is going on?
Mr. Vitale drops the submachine gun on the floor and moves closer to the other men. “Fuck if I know.”
The trembling in my body grows, and unable to just stand here, I begin to walk. I have to step over bodies and pools of blood, and it makes my breaths come faster and faster.
“Samantha!” Mr. Vitale calls me.
One of the men moves toward me, and Mr. Vitale shouts, “Don’t touch her.”
Slipping on the blood, I land on my butt, and my hands slap against the tiles. I feel the sticky liquid beneath my palms.
Lifting them, I see red, and I lose my mind.
Unable to think clearly and drowning in horror, I begin to scramble to get up.
Blood.
There’s so much blood.
I’m barely able to register that Mr. Vitale picks me up and carries me out of the building, where there are more bodies.
So much death.
I can’t.
“You’re safe. It’s going to be okay,” I hear Mr. Vitale say.
No, I’m not. I’ll never be okay again, not after everything I witnessed today.
I’m placed on the hood of a car, and Mr. Vitale’s hands frame my face. He forces me to look at him.
“Take deep breaths. You’re safe.”
My body listens to him while my mind tries to flee from all the violence.
I don’t know how I do it, but I manage to calm down enough to take a deep breath.
Mr. Vitale actually looks worried about me as he says, “I’m so fucking sorry you had to see that.”
Realizing he’s touching my face, I pull away and whisper, “Don’t touch me.”
He immediately takes a couple of steps away from me, then he glances toward the entrance of the building, and his face turns to stone.
I follow the line of his sight and watch as a man is carried toward us.