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Vincenzo’s smile was deadly. “It ends here, Ricci. And it ends with you.”
Tony signaled his men, and the bikers moved into position.
“Finish it,” Vincenzo commanded, and Tony raised his hand into the air.
The gang of bikers opened fire, their semi-automatic weapons blazing in the night. The sound was deafening, bullets tearing through the air, shredding the car and everything in it.
Ricci’s screams were lost in the roar of gunfire, but I was glad I didn’t hear them.
The bikers didn’t stop until their clips were empty, the air thick with the bitter scent of gunpowder. One of them, the biker with the mohawk, pulled out a rocket launcher from God knows where, and aimed it at the car. With a whoosh, the rocket flew, hitting its target and exploding in a ball of fire and shrapnel.
The aftermath was devastating. The car was a twisted wreck, flames licking at the debris. There would be almost nothing left of Ricci by the time it burned down.
Vincenzo stood tall, his expression resolute. He turned to his men, his voice carrying over the crackling flames. “Let this be a message to anyone who thinks they can cross us. We are untouchable. We are unstoppable.”
The bikers cheered, their faces alight with savage triumph as any of Ricci’s men left alive ran off into the darkness of the woods. Tony clapped Vincenzo on the back, his grin fierce.
“You did it, boss. You showed them,” Tony cheered.
Vincenzo nodded, his gaze turning to me. He took my hand, his grip firm and reassuring.
“Let’s go home, Jenna.”
CHAPTER 25
Vincenzo
The adrenaline from the battle was wearing off, leaving behind a dull ache that spread through my entire body. The ride back home was quiet, the roar of the engines a comforting hum that masked the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. I glanced at Jenna, her face pale and drawn, but her eyes were still bright with fierce determination. She was strong, stronger than I had ever realized.
When we finally arrived, I helped her off the bike, my hands lingering on her waist.
“Let’s get you inside,” I said softly, guiding her toward the door.
I led her to the living room, gently easing her down onto the couch. The soft lighting cast warm shadows across her face, highlighting the smudges of dirt and blood. My heart ached at the sight.
“Are you okay?” I asked, kneeling in front of her.
She nodded, but I could see the exhaustion in her eyes.
“Just a bit bruised and battered. Nothing too serious,” she whispered.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hands as I reached for her, tracing my fingers across her cheek, and pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
She was so fucking beautiful.
“Let me take a look,” I said, my voice gentle but firm. “I need to make sure you’re alright.”
I began to carefully inspect her injuries, my fingers grazing over her skin with the utmost care. When I lifted her shirt, I found a nasty bruise on her ribs and a few cuts on her arms and legs. Each mark felt like a personal failure, a reminder that I hadn’t protected her well enough.
I was glad that Ricci and his men were dead.
“These don’t look too bad,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “But we need to clean them up.”
I stood and retrieved a first aid kit from the bathroom, my mind racing with worry. When I returned, Jenna was watching me, her eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. I sat beside her, the couch dipping under our combined weight.
“This might sting a bit,” I said, dabbing antiseptic on a cotton ball.
She winced as I gently cleaned her cuts, but she didn’t pull away.
