Reign (The Syndicate_ Crime and Passion Book 2)(59)

He frowned, narrowed his eyes and lifted his hands. “Wait! Is she—”

The muffled sound of the silenced shot filled the warehouse, and Santo slid to the ground, the bloom of red spreading between his eyes, his life having left his body before he’d even realized it.

I glanced up to look at Michael, who met my eyes and smiled. “That should have happened years ago,” he said. “I hope we can… Hey!”

Michael looked around wildly as Marcos and one of the others grabbed Michael’s arms.

“Santo gave the order, but you pulled the trigger,” I said, my voice almost inaudible with rage.

“He’s the boss. He gave the order,” Michael said.

“And you took it. Shot her, left her for dead,” I said, trailing behind Michael as Marcos pulled him toward the vise. Michael struggled, but Marcos twisted his arm until it faced the vise and then pulled until Michael’s hand was wedged between the two heavy metal plates.

For the first time, I saw the slimy fucker start to sweat.

“I only did what Santo told me to do,” he said, almost whining.

“You think that’s an excuse?” I asked as I walked toward the vise, watching Michael as he tried to wrestle his hand out of it and got nowhere.

“No…but…”

Michael went quiet, thinking. He’d probably realized there was no way out of this.

“You said you’re going to make this quick. Out of respect,” he said quietly a moment later.

“That was for Santo. Not you,” I said.

Then I grabbed the handle of the vise.





Twenty-Eight





Daniela



I ignored the dull throb in my shoulder, but soon it intensified to the point that I couldn’t any longer. I peeled my eyes open, dropped them again at the first rays of morning sun. I turned to get away from the rays, and my reward was a pain so excruciating, it made my stomach churn.

My eyes popped open again, though my vision still blurred from the pain. In an instant, I remembered where it came from.

Remembered the person I considered a friend, one I had known all my life shooting me.

Remembered that he’d done so at my father’s behest.

A tear slipped from my eyes, and I clenched, unable to stop it, uncaring of the pain that still roiled through me.

I had never imagined it would come to this, had thought there was something holding Santo and me together, something that would protect me from him. I’d been so very wrong.

No matter what I’d done, no matter who I had chosen, if he had loved me, he wouldn’t have tried to kill me. But he didn’t understand the word, and in that moment, I swore to never waste another thought on him.

My face felt sticky, my mouth dry, so despite the pain, I heaved myself out of bed and stumbling, made my way to the bathroom.

I was in Sergei’s room, the room I had started to think of as ours. My toiletries decorated the bathroom sink, and though my room was only a few feet down the hall, leaving my things here felt right, a small representation of the intimacy that was growing between us.

Intimacy that was probably over now.

Sergei would be angry with me, and I wouldn’t be able to blame him. He hadn’t told me not to see my father, but in hindsight, going to him felt like a betrayal. Now I’d caused trouble that I didn’t even fully understand.

I frowned down at the ripped, stained dress I was still wearing, my stomach again clenching when I realized it was my blood that splattered it, and when I looked into the mirror and saw my face, I shuddered again.

I looked like hell.

There wasn’t much I could do to fix that, but I would try, so I pulled myself out of the dress, maneuvering slowly so that I wouldn’t jar myself too much. I slid the dress down, and then got out of my bra with only a few tears. My heart was racing when I finished, so I paused and then turned the water on and wet a cloth.

I wiped out my mouth and then began scrubbing off the flecks of dried blood on my skin.

“Daniela! What are you doing?”

I flinched and jumped at the sound of Sergei’s voice, turned to see him standing in the doorjamb glowering at me.

His expression was twisted with anger, and I dropped the cloth.

“I’m trying to clean up,” I said.

“Should have taken that off myself, but I didn’t want to hurt you,” he muttered.

The next thing I knew, I was in his arms, and he cradled me gently, walked me back to the bedroom, and laid me down.

His face was still set in an angry mask, one that intensified the longer he looked at me. But there was something else in his eyes, a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before.

“Are you in pain?” he said.

I shook my head, a little too hard since the motion made me cry out in pain.