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At least I got to experience some happiness before I die.
She lifts her hand to my cheek. “Tell Carlo I love him. It was an honor being his mother.”
“I will,” I lie while waiting for the bullets to hit me.
“Such a good girl,” she gasps. “Love you.”
My voice is thick with sorrow as I say, “I love you too.”
I’m grabbed, and as they haul me away from Aunt Greta, she stretches her arm out to me as she gasps for air.
“No!” I cry, and I manage to yank free.
Instead of bullets riddling my body, I’m grabbed again. When I’m dragged out of the kitchen, I start to fight with all my strength, hitting, scratching, and kicking until I’m thrown onto the floor in the foyer.
“Fucking bitch,” a man growls before a gun is pressed to my head. “Where is Mrs. Falco?” he demands, his tone aggressive.
My heart slams against my ribs, and I don’t know where the strength comes from, but I glare at the man as I bite the words out, “You’re looking at her.” Holding my left hand up, I say, “I’m Mrs. Falco.”
I know they’re either going to take me or kill me right here, but hopefully, they won’t look for Mamma.
One of the other men talks into a radio, “We have a young woman claiming to be Mrs. Falco.”
‘What does she look like?’ I hear a familiar voice, but I can’t place where I know it from.
His eyes roam over me. “Light brown hair. Pretty.”
‘Bring her.’
I’m hauled to my feet, and the gun remains trained on my head.
“What about the mother?” the one in charge asks.
‘We have the wife. She’ll do.’
If I let them take me, they might do much worse things to me.
With panic and fear swirling in my chest, I swing around, and my fist connects with the bastard behind me. I break out into a run toward the sunroom, but debris blocks my way, so I dart into Damiano’s private sitting room.
Wildly, I glance around, but with no way of escaping, I turn to face the men as they follow me into the room.
The one who was talking on the radio stalks right at me, and when I try to put up a fight, he slams something hard against my head, and everything grows dark.
Chapter 34
Damiano
Carlo lands the helicopter on top of the building, and I wait for him to switch everything off.
“Who would attack the warehouse?” Carlo asks as he joins me
“I have no fucking idea,” I mutter while sending Emilio a text demanding an update.
Anger vibrates in my chest as we walk toward the elevator.
When my phone vibrates, I read the message from Emilio.
Three men dead. Nothing was taken. It’s weird. I don’t feel it’s safe for you to come here. Go to the club. I’ll meet you there.
