Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
AURORA
A s I march out of the room and down the hall, I finally respond over comms. “Benedict is alive and heading for the loading bay. I want anyone down there with medical know-how looking at his injuries.” Enzo and Sinclair come back over the line immediately, talking over each other, asking what the fuck happened.
“He’s alive and talking and refusing to leave until we have Max, so someone better give me some good fucking news right now,” I reply.
I’m running along the upper corridor towards the stairwell, my men trailing after me.
“We’re just waiting for you, hummingbird. Meet us in the south corner. We have a gift for you,” Sinclair replies with an eerily gleeful undertone beneath the low rumble of his voice.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I make short work of them and burst through the door at the bottom to find a majority of my men surrounding one of the labs, weapons raised and poised to fire.
“We didn’t have time to gift wrap him, but we figured trapping him was the next best thing,” Enzo tells me.
I walk around the space carefully, trying to get a peek at Max. The lab walls are built with opaque lower panels underneath wide glass windows. There are a few still standing and it seems Max has been manoeuvred into one of them like a rat in a test maze. I can see the top of his head leaning with his back against the wall. Looking around the room, I consider my options. I could talk to him, ask him to come out with his hands up, but I have plans for this man and I’m done waiting.
Raising my hand towards Stefano’s men, I flick my wrist. “Bring him to me.”
They leap into action, making short work of the door and bursting into the room. Max does nothing. He’s either out of ammunition or has realised the fruitlessness in fighting back. He’s alone and outgunned. My men have systematically taken out every one he brought with him and now he’s fucked.
I watch through the glass as he’s pulled off the floor. He turns towards me, his icy blues fixed like a laser on mine. A chill weaves a path through me, triggered by the creep of his gaze as he takes me in from head to toe.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of buckling under his malevolent stare.
Not even when he focuses on my abdomen and darts his tongue out, eagerly wetting his lips before biting the bottom one. Max’s expression twists into a cruel and self-satisfied smirk. I can guess exactly what he’s thinking.
It’s like he’s lost in a memory and I know with every fibre of my being that he’s reliving the moment he buried his knife in me.
He remains statue still as they search him and toss his weapons aside, but my interest is piqued when the only time he reacts is as Dom removes a shiny object from his inside pocket. Because of course he stormed a warehouse in a fucking dress suit.
“Bring. That. To me,” I shout, feeling a tidal wave of anger threatening to crash over me.
Dom immediately exits the lab and presents his find. I hold my hand out for him to drop the item in my palm and the second the weight of it lands in my grip, I know what it is. I’m very fucking familiar with this particular item.
I run my thumb across the macabre inscription.
Enzo and Nico move to stand at my back as anger rolls off me in waves. They each lay a hand on my shoulder and I settle a little, but it doesn’t stop the rage coursing through my veins. It builds until I feel like I’m choking on the acrid fumes of a blazing inferno.
Shrugging away from their touch, I slowly stalk to the centre of the open space before me.
“Bring him to me.” My tone is hushed, but I have the attention of everyone in the room and my command is obeyed immediately.
I catch Enzo and Sinclair in my periphery moving towards me and I raise my hand, turning my head slowly to the side and stopping them in their tracks. Fixing my eyes on Enzo, an entire conversation passes between us without words. I know he wants his vengeance, and I will grant him his moment. But right now—this is my moment. And I won’t be denied my satisfaction.
They step back into the ranks with every man who helped me tonight. I watch as more men filter through from the loading bay, among them Nico and Benny who move to stand at Enzo’s side, and I dip my head towards them, feeling a huge weight lift off my shoulders when I see that Benny is okay. Standing tall, shoulder to shoulder, every Bianchi here holds a perimeter around the edge of the warehouse floor. They all bear witness as Max is brought before me.
He doesn’t struggle or brawl with his captors as he’s presented to me. He holds his head high and lifts his chin.
“Kneel,” I command, my voice steady and even. That one word is the first time I see a crack in his armour. His face flinches into a sneer, as if the mere idea of kneeling before me is abhorrent to him.
“I said, kneel,” I repeat, only I don’t wait for a response, pulling my gun out of the back of my waistband and firing twice, one in each kneecap. He’s felled instantly, dropping like a stone. I can see the agony etched on his face and smirk at his futile attempt to hide it.
I begin a slow walk around him and I take a moment to revel in the pain I’ve caused him. It’s nothing compared to the agonies he’s inflicted on me—but it’s a start. He dampens his anguish by biting his lip so hard I can see fat crimson drops of blood welling in the seam. I lean over him a little and make a show of inspecting my handiwork. His kneecaps are shattered but I appear to have missed any arteries that would have ended this display too soon.
He starts scrambling away, dragging himself on his arms, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. His effort is wasted since there’s no escape from me or my men, but I won’t chase after him, so I raise my weapon again and shoot each shoulder in rapid succession. This time I get a much more satisfying sound out of him. It’s half anguish and half incandescent rage.
“I didn’t think you had this in you, principessa ,” he spits out. His voice cracks with every other word, but I ignore him. There’s nothing he can say that will hurt me any more than he already has, and I refuse to give credence to the psychotic ramblings of someone as depraved as he is .
I don’t say a word. I just holster my gun in my waistband and make a show of pausing to turn the knuckle duster over in my hand. Threading my fingers through it and wiggling them a little until the heavy metal sits comfortably between them. Max’s head is turned to the side where I immobilised him and his expression shifts to a level of darkness few have had the fortitude to survive. The demon beneath his skin bristles as he watches my hands.
“Tell me, wife, do you remember all the fun we had with that? How your delicate skin would blossom with colour from its attentions?” His voice drips with more malice than it has a right to, given the obvious pain he’s in.
I try to ignore our audience. For the most part, they’re aware of Max’s predilections, but that doesn’t make it any easier to have them hear his words. Several of them clench their fists, and I see them struggling not to intervene. Max hasn’t only hurt me. In one way or another, he’s injured every person here and they want blood.
So I decide, that’s what I’ll give them.
I strike so quickly Max is entirely unprepared and there’s little he can do to fight back. My boots straddle his hips and I reach down to pull his head off the floor. I can’t deny the sickening feeling that assaults me as my fingers slide through his hair. My stomach churns as my mind is assaulted by the memories of every time he’s ever touched me.
My vision clouds over in a red mist as I think of every person Max has hurt. It’s almost like those thoughts unlock a part of me that has been waiting for this moment. Activating me like a code word triggers a sleeper cell. My body is not my own. It’s an instrument of vengeance and it will be denied its purpose no longer.
I rain down an endless barrage of pain with my right fist. Driving it into his face over and over again. For me, for my sister, for my father, for Enzo, for every man and woman who stands with me.
I don’t stop when his nose shatters under the cold metal knuckle duster. I don’t slow down when I feel his jaw fracture. I don’t allow him time between punches to spit out the teeth I see rattling around his mouth as he shouts between strikes.
I only stop when his cries become whimpers and my breath becomes so laboured I can no longer hold him clear of the floor. Dropping him without warning, there’s a dull thud as his skull hits the concrete floor.
Max rolls his head to the side, coughing up more blood and teeth.
I stand alone, feeling like a centurion at the Colosseum, and for a moment I worry that my performance has lost my audience’s support. That I will look into their faces and see judgement. However, as I look around, I see nothing but unwavering loyalty. Their eyes are fixed on Max, eagerly anticipating the moment I put him out of his misery.
Crouching down beside him, I tilt my head and take him in. I find myself almost disappointed at how unaffected I am by the pain I’ve inflicted. I’m by no means a person with a truly pure moral compass, but the joy that floods my body when I watch him writhe beneath me in agony is indescribable.
“I wish I had some big speech prepared for this moment, Max. But I find myself entirely uninspired,” I muse down at him. “You’re a monster, one that needs to be put down.”
“Tell me, wife.” His words are punctuated with ragged, choking gasps, but that doesn’t deter him. “Does my voice still haunt your dreams? Do you remember the touch of my knife against your skin? The bite of the barbed wire in our playroom. Did Enzo tell you how I kept him in your little cage? Do you really think when they know what you truly are, that they’ll still bow to you? You’re nothing but my pathetic little whore. ”
If he’s expecting his words to wound me, then he’s sorely mistaken. His ramblings only amuse me.
“I think you’ll find I’m their whore, not yours, Max,” I say pointing towards my Bianchi Bastards. “I was never yours. I just had to wait for an opportunity not just to escape you, but to destroy you. Patience is a virtue, motherfucker,” I say, tapping his cheek petulantly.
“You’ll always be mine, principessa . I will be burned into your soul until your last breath,” he rasps, losing his vice-like grip on his countenance, his words dripping with an emotion I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed in him. Yes, I can see the rage that has always lurked beneath the surface, the malevolence, the darkness. However, right now, it’s laced with desperation.
I remove and pocket the brass knuckles and stand back up. “How about you tell me—before I shuffle you off this mortal coil—what upsets you the most? The fact that it will be me that replaces you and destroys the De Luca legacy? Or the fact that you will never have me under your blades again? Never feel the exquisite high of watching me bleed for you?”
Max doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even flinch.
I lean forward, towering over him, beaten and broken on the floor, unable to squirm away from me and place my boot on his chest. Pulling my gun back out and aiming it between his eyes.
“Don’t you want to know why?” he croaks out.
“Why what?”
“Why everything? Why you?”
“You’re not as clever as you think you are. I’ve always known why. I’m the only one who can match you, Max—who can survive you. And that makes me the only one who can destroy you. ”
Max’s eyes flare wide, though the whites are a mottled feathering of broken blood vessels.
“You may be my favourite, but you weren’t my first, were you… Your sister had that privilege. She was so much fun, but so weak,” Max says, a smile curving at the corners of his mouth as he adds, “I was so disappointed when her body gave out so soon, but I’d had plenty of time to practise by the time I got my hands on you, principessa .”
This is the first time his words have penetrated my thick skin and I can’t stop my trigger-finger from twitching. It takes more effort than I would like to force it away and straighten it against the barrel of the gun.
I’m approached from behind and I don’t have to turn around to know who stands at my back. Whose arms wrap around me. Whose hands wrap around mine on the gun.
“Just say the word and we’ll end him right now,” Enzo whispers, his breath skittering across the shell of my ear as the warmth of him engulfs me.
I can’t hide the way my body responds to his or the smile that spreads across my features. It broadens into a grin when I see the look of absolute hatred that consumes Max the second Enzo touches me. Choosing violence, I make sure to lean into Enzo’s touch and pull his arm around my waist.
“Now, where would be the fun in that?” I mock, patting his forearm before calling two men over and instructing them to lift Max to his feet.
I don’t need to summon them. Nico, Benny, and Sinclair appear beside me and stand, ready to take my command.
Looking around, I spot what I want. “String that up from the gantry,” I say, pointing at a long set of chains in the corner of the loading bay. That’s all it takes for Sinclair and Nico to jump into action and dig through until they find a length that will work and set off for the stairs.
I reach for Benny and cup his face between my hands. “How are you feeling?”
“Well enough to stay for the rest of the show. I swear if you make me leave before I have the pleasure of watching the life leave his eyes, you and I are going to have words, Don Bianchi.”
I run my hand down the front of his chest and don’t miss the way his muscles tense as I approach the wound on his side. I raise an eyebrow but concede to his wishes. Lacing my fingers between his, I guide him back a few steps with me, and he looks a little confused until I call out to Enzo. “He’s all yours, mio re. Just leave enough for us to string up when you’re done with him. ”
I take great satisfaction when Max’s face contorts with hatred as I call Enzo ‘my king’. It hits Max full in the chest, landing as hard as any punch I could throw would. As I walk back to stand with the rest of my people they part, making room for me, throwing the now familiar differential head bob my way before casting their eyes back to the centre of the room. I glance around the procession of faces, slightly awed by the oppressive atmosphere their silence casts and humbled by their unwavering support.
The longer I look around, the more a feeling of dread settles in the pit of my stomach because there’s someone missing.
“Dom, where’s Stefano?” I shout across to him. There’s a frenzy of movement as heads turn, only no one has an answer. Dom launches into action and nominates three of his subordinates to take teams on a search of the building.
“Last time I spoke to him, he was with a team headed to the roof up the far stairwell,” I call after them as they set off at pace to find him. My heart is thumping like a bass drum, pounding against my ribcage. I swear to Christ that man better be alive or I’ll follow him down to hell just to drag his ass back up here.
There’s a loud clanking noise above me and I glance up to see Nico and Sinclair unfurling the long length of heavy chain over the side of the gantry. They wave one of the men over to hold the end before threading the other through and lowering it down. The metallic clanks ricochet around the cavernous warehouse, rounding off like bullets, but no one flinches. They’re too focussed on the scene in front of them.
Enzo hasn’t moved a muscle, and Max is caught in his emotionless stare. “I’ve missed you, Enzo. You may have been a poor substitute for my wife, but you certainly held out better than those drunken whores. They couldn’t tolerate the cattle prod as well as you could. How do you feel knowing that the freedom I granted you cost so many young women their lives?” Max wheezes out.
Despite his cracking voice, it doesn’t make his tone any less malignant. When Max mentioned the cattle prod, I caught the subtle clench in Enzo's jaw and my breath hitched. While it’s not something he used on me often, I remember the bite of the prongs vividly. It was one of the ways he loved to try and pull me back to reality, using the shocks to disrupt my concentration. While Max loved inflicting pain on me in that near comatose state, he preferred to ‘fuck me with some life behind my eyes’ as he so eloquently put it.
I shake off the shiver that rolls along my spine and plant my feet firmly, throwing my shoulders back and refusing to be haunted by visions of my past, and I smile when I see Enzo’s posture mirroring mine. Standing tall and towering over this pathetic example of a human being, he has the audacity to smirk at Max, which only ignites Max’s temper further.
“Do they know what I did to you? How you suffered? Did you tell her the pleasure I took in torturing you? All in her name.” Max’s voice pitches and strains the louder he tries to shout, like rough sandpaper scraping down wood.
In direct contrast, Enzo’s voice remains smooth and calm, like warm whiskey pouring over ice. “I don’t need to tell her what you did to me, in the same way she doesn’t need to tell me what you did to her. I know that woman inside out and backwards. In a strange way, you’ve given me one of the greatest gifts, because now I understand what makes her the strongest leader the Bianchi family will ever have. She is indestructible.” He pauses to crouch over Max’s broken body. “And you are a footnote on her legacy.”
“You’re just my discarded toy, and she’s my greatest creation,” Max roars with the last vestiges of energy he has and drops his head back against the concrete .
“She’s who she is in spite of you, not because of you,” Enzo says as he bends to pull a long serrated hunting knife from a holster strapped to his thigh. The blade glints under the harsh fluorescent lights as Zo lazily tosses it between his palms.
“She’ll never be yours,” Max says, his voice little more than a low menacing growl.
Leaning down close, Enzo’s voice quietens and with inarguable conviction says, “She’s not mine. She’s ours.”
For a moment I think he means I’m Sin, Nico, Benny, and his, but he slowly points the knife around to every one bearing witness to Max’s execution. Each person bows their head in allegiance as the tip of the knife passes them.
Max’s face becomes a thunderous mask of hatred, but before he throws out a retort, Enzo reaches forward and wraps his hand around Max’s neck in a vice-like grip, yanking him off the ground. He snarls the next part, and I swear I can see his eyes shine with the burning hatred I know he feels.
“I don’t need her to be mine. I’m hers. In all ways, for all things. I’m her protector and her salvation.” Enzo lifts the knife in front of Max’s face before lowering it to his abdomen and using it to flip his suit blazer. Max flinches when the knife slices open his shirt in one fluid motion, snorting out a ragged breath through his nose in defiance as Enzo smiles back at him. “And her executioner.”
The blade glides into Max’s torso, seemingly with no resistance. Max has barely any fight left in him and when Enzo lets go of his grip on his neck, he collapses to the floor with a string of howls and moans.
Enzo turns his back and stalks over to me, his shoulders relaxed like a weight has been lifted. Taking his place at my side, there’s nothing left to do but finish Max off. Looking up at the gantry, the chains are fully secured and Sinclair and Nico are on the way down to us .
There’s a loud bang to my left as Dom and his men burst through the stairwell door with a rather battered-looking Stefano being supported under each arm by two members of his team. He looks groggy but otherwise fine.
“Sorry boss, I split my team and went after some stragglers. One of the fuckers got the jump on me.” As he talks, he shakes off the people holding him up. “I’m fine, just a crack over the head.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “We’ll discuss this later because I swear to fuck if you go off solo without checking in again, I will retire you myself, you stubborn fool.”
“In my defence, I gave my earpiece to the team to stay in contact,” he replies.
“And not one of them knew where you were.” I lean in close and bring him into a tight embrace, whispering in his ear, “Don’t you dare pull this solo shit on me again. I can’t lose you too, Stef.”
“Yes, Don Bianchi.” He brings an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me hard for the briefest of moments before releasing me. We both turn and take in the broken, mangled heap on the floor. Stefano’s jaw ticks under the strain of how hard he’s clenching it. “Can I give you some advice?”
“Feel free,” I say.
“Say whatever it is you need to say now. Before the last breath leaves his body, then send him to hell with the burden of his failure.”
“Soliloquies aren’t my style, Stefano,” I reply, and chuckle a little when all I get from him in return is a little shrug. He walks back to the edge of the room to stand shoulder to shoulder with the others while he stretches out what I’m assuming are some rather painful bumps and bruises, judging from the anguish that flares across his face.
Nico and Sinclair stroll across from the gantry stairs and fall into step behind me. “Time to finish him off,” Nico says with a smirk.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, laying a hand over his forearm. “I wouldn’t ask you to kill your own blood.”
“This man is no family of mine, phoenix.” Nico’s brow furrows into a hard line and he pulls back like I’ve slapped him clear across the face. I search his eyes, trying to find something that will tell me I won’t break this man forever if I order him to kill his brother. He can see how torn I am and pulls me into him, holding me tight as his hard muscles soften and mould themselves around me. “I know I scared the shit out of you before. But I have to be part of this. I need to see this through. I need to watch him pay.”
I nod against his chest before flattening my hand against it and pushing away from him. I cup his face and force him to hold my stare as I search his eyes for the truth of his words. Satisfied that whatever happens next, he’s strong enough to withstand it.
“Understood. Now go and bring your man over here. The stubborn asshole won’t let anyone help him. He’ll listen to you.”
Nico nods and I hook a finger, summoning Enzo to my side. Nico approaches Benny and ignores his protestations when he slides his arm under his and joins us.
Max is drifting in and out of consciousness. His stab wound is serious but not life-threatening and the knife still firmly lodged in his belly is staunching a lot of the bleeding. It’s unlikely to hold for the next part, so I guess it’s time to finish this.
I nudge his hand with the edge of my boot and his head rolls towards me in response. “I will always be a part of you, principessa ,” he croaks.
I tilt my head as I consider his words before crouching down low and meeting his soulless stare. “Whether you will or you won’t, you won’t be here to witness it.” His eyes widen with some sort of emotion I can’t place. Is it fear? Regret? The more I try to figure it out, the less I care. I push down on my knees, coming to stand and turn to my family. Enzo, Sinclair, Nico, and Benny all standing to attention ready for my command, with a sea of faces behind them all patiently waiting.
“String him up,” I instruct Nico and Sinclair. They move in tandem, one to Max’s head and the other to his feet, lifting him roughly and carrying him over to where the chain hangs down. They toss him on the floor, and I can’t help but enjoy every scream of agony that erupts from Max’s gaping mouth. Between cries, he spews his poisonous words, prophesying my failure and the death of the Bianchi family.
Nico takes one end of the chain from one of Dom’s men and instructs Sinclair to sit him up and hold him still. Just as he starts to snake the heavy metal chain around Max’s throat, Benny reaches into one of his pockets and calls out, “Wait.” We all turn to look at him as he gingerly drops down on his knees and secures what looks like a collar around Max’s neck.
“What are you up to, Bambi?” Nico asks with a suspicious but intrigued smile.
“Trust me, this will help with the clean up,” he says, tapping the side of his nose and then pointing back at Nico with a cheeky twinkle in his eyes. Enzo leans in to help Benny back up and we stand back as Nico continues to wrap the chain tight around Max’s neck.
Reaching into one of his many pockets, Nico pulls out a padlock, and after pulling the chains so tight that Max’s ramblings are silenced and his face starts to redden, he secures the chains tightly above the collar. He makes his way over to the person holding the other end of the chain and takes it from him.
“Let him go,” Nico tells Sinclair and Max doesn’t even get the opportunity to hit the ground before Nico pulls the chain taut, applying enough tension to lift his torso upright and cause his colour to shift from red to purple as the chains compress his windpipe.
Without even having to ask, Enzo and Sinclair join him, picking up the tail of the chain behind Nico to share the burden of execution. I tip my head towards them, and as one, they step backwards and heave, then pull at the chain, arm over arm, hauling Max clear off the floor.
He convulses and struggles, causing the knife in his gut to shift and release rhythmic gushes of blood that trickle down, saturating his pants and dripping to the concrete below. I get a little lost in my thoughts, watching the pattern Max’s wriggling legs paint on the grey canvas below us. It’s only when I feel the presence of my four men at my back that I notice they’ve tied the end of the chain to the iron railings on the wall of the warehouse and have come back to join me.
The clanking and scraping of the chain against the gantry railings dies down as Max finally starts to succumb. His eyes zero in on mine and I refuse to blink as I watch the light die in them. The second they glaze over, I release the breath I was holding, feeling lighter than I have in months.
Turning to the crowd around me I see every emotion that’s churning around my head reflected in them. Taking them all in, I slowly acknowledge each and every one of them.
“Today, we’ve restored our family to its rightful place and eliminated the biggest threat to our continued legacy. We made a mistake when we negotiated away our autonomy. There was no honour in The Syndicate, no honour in aligning ourselves with the De Lucas. I loved my father, but he was wrong to sacrifice so much for the illusion of peace. The De Lucas were a cancer that was corrupting us from the inside out. This was always going to end in war and bloodshed, and I thank each and every one of you for standing by my side tonight. You will never fully understand the respect I have for you and the gratitude I have for the faith you place in me.”
There’s no grand applause or chattering of thanks. I didn’t expect there to be, nor did I want that. My words came from my heart and I needed to say them. They needed to hear them. We’ve all been held hostage to the corruption of the De Lucas family for so many years and are finally free.
I don’t expect what happens next and it will be something I hold in my heart for an eternity. One by one, each man and woman before me bows their head and takes a knee. I’m speechless. Emotion clogs my throat when the last men to kneel are mine.
Enzo, Sinclair, Nico, and Benedict kneel together and drop their chins to their chest in reverence. Reaching out, I hook a finger under Enzo’s chin and tilt it up gently.
“Thank you,” I say, letting the words out in a shaky breath. He quirks his brow in confusion, and I can’t help but chuckle at his expression. “For saving me. For risking everything for me. For standing with me.” I don’t just mean Enzo. “All of you. Thank you.”
With solemn faces, they all nod before rising to their feet again.
“We’d better get him back down, make things a little easier for Etta with the clean up,” Sinclair says as he rises to his feet, but before he can make a move Benny pipes up.
“That won’t be necessary,” he says with a mischievous grin that gives me more than a little pause. “Fire in the hole.” There’s a flurry of confusion around us, which has an exasperated Benedict shouting, “Hug the wall and cover your ears, people.”
There’s a rapid scattering of footfalls, most of them towards the loading bay, not particularly eager to find out what Benedict is up to. I’m bundled to the wall by Enzo and Sinclair as Nico lifts Benny, bridal style, and walks him back to join us.
“You’re a fucking liability, you know that, Bambi,” he says when he sees Benny produce a detonator from his pocket. His tone is serious, but the frown he’s throwing Benny’s way doesn’t reach his eyes, and I see the tiniest smirk on the side of his lips.
“You love me really,” Benny playfully teases.
The second Nico touches his feet to the floor, Benny turns and we follow his lead and stare up at the body gently swaying in the breeze coming in from the shattered warehouse windows.
“Three… Two… One…” We barely have enough time to cover our ears when he blows the collar he placed around Max’s neck. It’s nowhere near as loud as I’m expecting, but fuck me, is it effective. The force of the explosion obliterates the flesh within the collar, severing Max’s body from his head. Well, what’s left of his head. As the body drops to the floor, the top of the skull is launched towards the back of the warehouse.
“You can explain to your sister why the fuck she’s going to need to go on a treasure hunt for body parts,” I say, plastering my best scowl on my face.
“Worth it,” Benny says with a giggle, flinching when his muscles tighten.
“Time to get you seen to, no fucking arguing this time,” Sinclair says, locking eyes with Benny and making it clear he has no choice in the matter .
“What he said,” Nico adds before sweeping him up into his arms and stomping towards the loading bay.
Sinclair, Enzo and I follow behind and step out of the warehouse for the first time in what feels like years when it can’t have been more than an hour.
In less than sixty minutes everything has changed. I meant every word I said in there, but tonight I achieved a freedom no one else did.
The realisation makes me feel like I’ve grown wings. I feel lighter than I have since the day I was sentenced to my damnation. To the living hell, I never allowed myself to believe I would ever escape.
Today I made myself a widow.
And fuck me, it feels good.