Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“P-please, Dante! I'll give you anything you want!”
“All I want is with Zuri.” I pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gunshots shattered the silence of the maze.
The first bullet pierced her chest.
The second one struck her skull.
Francesca's body jerked with the impact, then slumped to the ground, a lifeless heap in the pristine snow. Blood pooled around her, turning the white icy powder to red.
Her mouth was slightly open. A trickle of blood escaped the corner, while her eyes were still open, staring into nothingness.
I stood there, watching the blood taint the snow, the finality of Francesca's demise sinking in.
It's done.
But instead of the satisfaction or relief I had imagined I would feel, there was only a hollow emptiness. The act of revenge, the culmination of years of anger and planning, brought no sense of victory.
No peace.
In fact, it was in this bloodied, quiet aftermath that I realized the true value of what I had.
Because, while the pursuit of revenge had consumed me for the past five years, it would be the love for Zuri and Carmen that would truly sustain me.
My body felt heavy.
The adrenaline faded, leaving behind a profound weariness.
I turned away from the scene.
My mind was now more clear than ever before.
And my heart was way more focused.
Thank God for Zuri and Carmen.
I walked away from the maze, leaving behind the remnants of a past best forgotten.
My future lay ahead,
not in the shadows of revenge,
but in the light of love.
Chapter 19
Trust
Where is that damn connect? I need that Foxie Cherry Doll. Can I really trust Anthony?
An hour had passed as we celebrated in the condo that Anthony had arranged for me.
The strategy had proven to be an excellent idea.
All had survived.
And I was happy, but honestly the only thing on my mind was returning to Zuri and Carmen.
Loud music pulsed through the condo, and I had to admit that the Siren had gone all out with the place. Expensive furniture decorated the space. It had a modern kitchen, polished wooden floors, and floor-to-ceiling glass walls that gazed over Shadow Heights’ wealthy district.
Partying, many recounted the night's events with vivid enthusiasm. Each man tried to outdo the others with tales of bravery and precision.
The clink of glasses rose.
Amidst the celebration, I found myself somewhat detached, an observer rather than a participant.
The fact that all had survived was a rare cause for celebration in our line of work. I could see the relief and pride in the eyes of the men, a shared camaraderie born of facing danger together and coming out victorious.
However, my mind was elsewhere, with Zuri and Carmen.
The joy of victory was fleeting, overshadowed by the desire to return to them.
My new family.
The only ones I would ever need.
I checked my watch.
10:00 pm.
Sighing, I dove my hands in my pockets.
Come on. It can't be too late, or Zuri won't let me in.
Feeling more helpless, I scanned the condo.
In the living room, a fireplace crackled.
Anthony sat in the center, a commanding figure surrounded by a group of Viper Mob and Marcelo's seven men.
In one hand, Anthony held a lit cigar. Smoke curled lazily towards the ceiling. His other hand gripped a bottle of wine, casually lifting it like a trophy.
Meanwhile, one woman massaged his shoulder.
His voice boomed over the din of other conversations and music. “So there I was, in the hallway, right? These three goons come at me, thinking they've got the upper hand.”
One red head giggled by him. “I bet you showed them who's boss!”
“Damn right, honey.” He took a drag from his cigar. The ember glowed brightly for a moment. He blew gray smoke out. “Anyway, three guys, but what they didn't know was that I had them right where I wanted them.”
Several men around him leaned in.
Anthony gestured expansively with the wine bottle, mimicking a move from the fight. “One swift move to the left, a hard elbow to the first guy's face. Bam! Down he goes.”
The group erupted in appreciative laughter and cheers.
“Then the second guy, he comes at me with a knife.” Anthony flicks his cigar in a crystal ashtray that another woman was holding for him. “But I catch his arm, twist it back, and he's yelping like a kicked dog. Didn't know what hit him!”
Several laughed.
A few women clapped.
“And the third guy,” Anthony paused for effect, taking another sip of his wine. “He just froze. Saw his buddies down and knew he was outmatched. So, he drops his gun and runs.”
The woman massaging his shoulder grinned. “But you went after him, didn't you, Tony?”
“Yeah, honey. It's war. None of the enemies can survive. I raced after him and bada bing bada boom!”
The room filled with roars of laughter and more toasts.
I watched from the sidelines, observing him.
He was a man transformed from the person I had seen earlier in the car. There, he had been almost serene, a companionable presence with a surprisingly good singing voice.