Page 83 of Harbor

Except he couldn’t focus on that agony for too long. Not when the rage that burst inside his gut was a hot, poisonous beast. All that movement and time that felt like he had slowed down was suddenly back up to speed again. If anything, it moved faster than ever. Everything was painfully clear.

Every step.

Each breath.

All the beats of his heart.

Vivid and vicious.

It was like all the rational thought he had in that moment was gone. He didn’t care what he had to do, but he was going to get Diego away from that man. He didn’t stop to consider he was just one single man—a man with no weapon except his fists because his gun was hidden in the kitchen. One man who couldn’t do very much.

He didn’t even think about what might be waiting for him just outside the shadows of the hallway when he came out of it, heading right for the asshole that was currently holding Diego. A man he didn’t recognize at all, but that was just fine, too. He didn’t need to know who the man was to bash his fucking skull in with his bare hands.

Maybe that was the point—maybe that was their plan. To get Renzo so pissed off and blind with his anger that he didn’t think clearly. He wasn’t like these men, and he could admit that. His life had not been one lesson after another in the rules of mafioso—he only needed to learn how to survive.

He came out of the hallway not thinking about anything except getting Diego back, and that was his mistake. He didn’t consider who was waiting around the corner, or how many of them there might be. The first strike hit him in the side of the head—heavy and hard, it cracked against his temple, and sent him sprawling to the floor with a cloudy vision and pain radiating through his brain.

His ears rang, but he still heard the aftermath of that first hit.

“Ren!”

Diego.

“Renzo!”

Lucia.

Her scream was shriller—scared, really. And angry.

God, she sounded so pissed.

Not that it stopped the second hit from coming because it didn’t. A boot landed hard to Renzo’s ribs, taking his breath away. A third hit him in the back. They came one after the other, surprising and fast. One caught him at the bottom of his jaw, and slipped to crack him in the mouth, too. He tasted the blood spray across his tongue, filling his mouth damn near instantly. The cries around him continued. Diego’s, terrified and begging. Lucia’s, loud, scared, and oh, so angry.

By the time he realized he should protect his fucking head and major organs, the man beating the hell out of him stepped back at a low whistle and a single word.

“Stop.”

Renzo rolled to his back, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. He felt the blood slip out of his mouth, and drip down his chin even as he coughed and gagged on it. “Like a fucking dog, huh? You’ve got commands and everything, asshole.”

The guy who’d been beating on him stepped forward like he was going to try and take another shot. At this point, Renzo didn’t even know if he cared.

“That’s enough, Dev,” he heard murmured. “He’s down, leave him be.”

That voice.

Familiar.

Dark and rough.

It sounded like an empty alley while the sun was still hidden. It sounded like a threat to stay away from a girl he loved. It sounded like old money and privilege Renzo would never see in his lifetime.

It sounded like John Marcello.

“Let me go!”

Renzo blinked in just enough time to see the man holding Diego let the kid down to the floor with a loud cuss.

“Fucking little bastard bit me!”