Chapter 71

There was nowhere for Leandro to hide. He was cornered and trapped like a caged rat.

After a quick glance, we were clear of any threats.

I walked with a purpose, uncaring if he heard my steps and position clearly. I wanted him to. I wanted him to know I was coming for him. That I was just a few steps away to deliver his death.

Behind me, Elio lowered and dropped a red before the retracting door. Then he pushed against the door, and it coiled open.

Leandro Giuliani stood in front of a king-size bed, greeting me with the blues, greens, and a mixture of eighties pink decoration. Arms spread wide, unarmed. But a flash caught the corner of my eye. The oval and golden trim mirror showcased another body inside.

In the reflection and in between the old Miami colors, I saw the barrel of a gun pointing at my head. It was so close. Only a thin wall separated us.

I didn't react, although my demon twitched.

"MPD is en route," Nate whispered in warning.

Redecorate. The demon smiled.

I took a step and flicked my wrist.

Pop-pop.

Six down.

Before the sixth body hit the ground, Leandro snatched a 9mm.That was more like it. Unarmed wasn't something we mafiosos did, unless planned.

I lowered my gun and pulled a knife while Elio targeted Leandro in point blank range with his weapon.

"I would've said you were lucky due to time management. But you should know, Leandro, I can always come with new ways to torture."

Leandro raised his head. "And sign your own death sentence?"

I chuckled.

"Has your father not shared the news with you?" I wiped the blade, toying with him. Leandro waited for me to continue, but with his gun drawn at me, I didn't like the odds. "Elio?"

Elio fired his gun, and Leandro screamed. His body bent forward, his gun fell, and Leandro wailed in pain, bringing his injured hand up to his chest. Blood decorated the palm-printed bedspread with red. His brown eyes sneered, and his brows crinkled together, surprised I ordered his harm.

Angered by the bullet hole in his hand, he shook his head as dread filled his gaze. "What is he doing?"

Elio circled the room with the red can he'd picked up from the corner, and Leandro's question was answered by the strong smell of gasoline. The stinging scent I'd grown familiar with, and I knew it was a smell he knew too well.

"What I'd promised the council. Taking care of the threat in my city at any cost."

Leandro shuddered as his eyes begged. "Not this way, Lombardi."

Seeing the power stripped away from him was as fulfilling as the high I sought from risk.

To watch how a grown man regretted facing me. How his eyes apologized for ever coming into my city to hunt what was mine. Seeing the moment he understood I didn't care about his title or ties. Leandro tried to hold it all in. But the more gasoline Elio splashed, the quicker his untouchable and strong ego crumbled.

In record time, I broke a skilled mafioso. A son of a Cosa Nostra boss. An heir to a syndicate.

In record time, I ruined him without pulling a trigger. All I did was find his weakness by learning every detail of his life.

All I did was add gasoline.

I looked down at the bloody mess he held close to him. The current of crimson that trailed down, dripping onto the floor. And past the gore, I saw his scarred-burned hands.

"You know, some said after your wife died, you grew strong. You were feared."

Leandro straightened. His slicked black hair glistened while his jaw clenched, holding onto a string of fickle force.

"But in reality, you grew weak and fearful of one thing. Fire."

Repulsed, he kept his eyes on me.

"Too bad you couldn't save her. At least your hands reminded you each day after your failure."

"My father will come for you," he spat.

"That's what I'm hoping for." I smiled. "Oh, and while you're in burning pain, think of how your father could've saved you from the same death your late wife suffered."

"Massimo, you need to get out now!" Nate said in a rush through my ear.

Soon.

I slipped my knife back into my pocket and reached for my lighter instead. With my free hand, I pulled the picture he'd used to target Alessandra. I lit it and watched as the end burned between my fingertips.

"Lombardi," Leandro gritted out.

"Alessandra gives you her regards." I took a step back, Leandro took one forward.

With Elio by the door and Leandro rushing closer, I lowered the glowing image.

Leandro froze.

Burn, my demon wished.

I dropped it.

Whoosh.

Leandro's eyes spread as he retreated to the end of the room, but the trail of petrol trapped him in the middle. The flames grew, and the old, dried bedroom quickly engulfed in heat and smoke.

I turned as his screams began.

"Lombardi!" he hauled.

I kept walking, leaving the burning man in misery and imprisoned by nonfunctional windows and gusts of angry fire. The heat touched my back as it spread at rapid speeds.

Elio's strides quickened as smoke clogged our exit, and when he emerged onto the main ground, Leandro's screams turned into torched wails and kindled whimpers.

"MPD is on scene. Hurry!" Nate announced.

Elio and I were the last ones out of the yacht and on solid ground. We both walked calmly around the marina until we evaded the blue wave of Miami without detection. Law enforcement stalled, watching the fire, stunned before they sprang into action, screaming for medics and the fire department. They ran toward the fire to notify those around of the now flaming yacht.

"Vadim?" I asked, knowing he could hear me.

"By the tree line," he replied through the earpiece.

Elio set out toward the direction, crossing a running car with the lights off, waiting for us.

I hopped inside the front passenger seat, finding Vadim behind the wheel. Elio climbed in next to Rana and Oliver.

Before I got the chance to ask, Vadim said, "Dario and Mimmo left with Renzo and his men."

He passed me a rag and sped away.

I ran the fabric over my face and caught the tall fire reaching high in the sky through the side mirror.

It was a beautiful sight. The kind I didn't let go of until it was gone from view.

Seven down.

Finally, Leandro Giuliani was dead, and I only had one Giuliani left before extinguishing a bloodline. But first, I needed to get Alessandra out of the city.

ALESSANDRA

The mountains.Massimo brought me to the mountains. If I wasn't confused by our silent plane ride, I was now.

Had I missed something? Had I said something that caused him to give me the cold shoulder? And my God, if he looked at his phone one last time, I was going to lose it.

I stared out the jet's window as we descended onto a private landing surrounded by heavy greenery and endless valleys.

"Where are we?" My question was distant and after the long ride, I was just glad to see land.

"Montana."

Montana?

Once again, expectations were my enemy.

While Montana seemed beautiful, there was so much green, and it welcomed us with little light. I tried to stay positive. To not dwell on the uncomfortable silence I'd endured for hours. Massimo wanted to take me away before our wedding, and after the blissful few moments I'd stolen the past couple of days, I wanted to remain optimistic about our time together.

Maybe he wanted a different scenery, it was justnot what I had expected or packed for. My suitcase was filled with bathing suits, summer dresses, heels, and sandals. This trip required long pants and closed-toe shoes.

While I loved long runs outdoors and sun bathing, this was the real outdoors. I was out of my element.

"How long will we stay?" I wondered.

"A few days."

My eyes flashed away from the gorgeous view to him.

Feeling my gaze, he removed his attention from his device and stared back.

"You should wear your seat belt when the plane is landing."

That's it? He wasn't going to offer anything else?

The jet's tires squealed, and gentle jerks shook inside the cabin.

"Looks like we already have." I smiled, but it was forced as I struggled to keep my thoughts and questions to myself. There wasn't a point, and I didn't want to start this getaway, or early honeymoon, with a fight.

I knew honeymoons in our ways of marriage weren't traditional as most didn't marry out of love, only duty.

Was I romanticizing a simple trip into something more?

Either way, it was just him and me. With this opportunity, I was going to seek out more of those minutes that made me feel alive.

I powered off my tablet after saving the blueprints I'd started for the downstairs renovation he'd agreed to yesterday. When the plane came to a halt, I stood and retrieved the few belongings I'd scattered, tossing them inside my tote. The golden zipper closed shut, and I hooked the bag on my shoulder and waited as he watched my every move.

Massimo took the glass of brown and drowned its contents before he rose before me. His gaze roamed over my frame and stopped at my bag. With an outstretched hand, he offered to take it.

It was such a simple gesture. Yet, after feeling unseen by him for hours, my tensed shoulders relaxed as my heart eased, and the tightness in my chest evaporated.

I gave him my bag and took a step closer. I raised my hand, but before it connected to his cheek, I settled for his chest instead.

His eyes calculated every blink and breath I took, and my hand slithered up to his neck as I dived for a kiss.

We had never kissed outside of sex, and his lips didn't move for a second. It had been the longest second I'd faced, and it brought a mixture of feelings of rejection and anxiety together. The kind that weighed your chest in silent torture. Then his lips gave, and I took as he closed the small distance by dragging me to him.

His kiss wasn't gentle. It was slow but never gentle.

And as I experienced this intimate moment wrapped in his arms, and the taste of liquor in his devilish lips, maybe Montana was indeed the right place after all.

I had lied. Montana was not the right place. If I thought mosquitoes were a menace in Miami, Montana's were the devil's spawns.

Before arriving here, I believed I could live and thrive in any environment. But I'd been humbled, and I was a city woman.

I felt guilty for feeling so unhappy, knowing this was the destination of my getaway instead of the blue crystal waters of the Bahamas or Bali, knowing his yacht remained docked while I was here. I even sounded like the spoiled principessa many believed me to be. But as I itched my legs furiously, frustrated by the countless buzzing that flew by my ears, and the continuous weird animal sounds, and the frog that wouldn't stop croaking since we arrived at the cabin, I was enraged.

"You'll bleed if you don't stop scratching, Alessandra."

I hurled my gaze in his direction. Humor danced clearly in his eyes even from afar as he grabbed our bags out of the trunk of the car that had waited for us at the terminal.