Their Queenpin (The Ridge MC #6)

Chapter 39 Rafe

The knot finally loosened enough. Adelina’s toes barely touched the floor, but it was enough to give her some relief from the strain of hanging. Her arms were still bound, her shoulders still pulled tight, but the worst of it was over.

For now.

I moved closer to her, keeping my voice low. “You okay?”

She nodded, her face pale, eyes wide with fear, but she didn’t say another word. I owed her for nearly slipping back into my old habits, but I’d never dreamed Massimo would harm his own daughter. Her breathing was shallow, but she was alive—still standing, still here.

And her eyes were hardening with determination.

“Go,” she ordered. “Don’t let them own us, Rafe.”

I wanted to stay with her, to get her down, but she was right. There wasn’t time.

As I turned, my eyes locked on Alessio.

He still had Sas pinned, kneeling with his arm wrenched around his back. The blade pressed into my brother’s throat. Yes, if I had learned one thing about this whole Mafia-MC-cartel shitshow, it was that the MC was not my enemy. Sas, as rough as he was around the edges, was my brother. A man who did, in his own way, care for Adelina as much as I did.

Sas was thrashing, growling like a caged animal, desperate to break free. But Alessio... there was something in his eyes. A hesitation. Humanity behind all that cold, trained precision.

He didn’t want to go through with this; the hesitation shone in his eyes. But he would. He would follow Massimo’s orders like a good, loyal dog.

Our eyes met, and for a split second, we understood each other.

We clicked.

He didn’t want this. Neither did I.

But we both had to do the needful, like good little puppets.

No more.

I nodded at him, a silent agreement passing between us. Then I turned, and I grabbed Massimo by the throat. “I’m done being your whipping post.”

“Rafaele,” he rasped, his hands grasping my wrist and his eyes bulging with his surprise. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, brother,” I spat, “You don’t understand the first thing about what I want.”

I’d gotten separation from him, from his narcissistic and psychopathic games. His daughters were nothing like him. Caterina was a kid with no clue what he had planned for her. And Adelina inherited his aptitude leadership and persuasion, but not his deranged penchant for torture and power.

My brother was not a slight man, so I squatted and lifted him with my legs and adrenaline-fueled strength. Then, in a single downward swoop, I threw him down. His body hit the floor, air gushing from his lungs.

But I didn’t let him stay down for long. I wrapped both hands around his throat before he caught his breath, dragging him back to his feet. He sputtered, but I wouldn’t let go.

Now that I’d started, I wasn’t stopping.

The gun was in my hand before I even realized it, cold and heavy, pressed hard against his temple. His lips curled into that same condescending smirk. Like he was still untouchable.

Like I wouldn’t pull the trigger.

But I was the one in control now. I was the one with the power.

Sas was still struggling behind me, Alessio’s grip holding him steady, but his growls faded into the background. Adelina called my name, but I blocked it out too.

The only thing in my sight now was Massimo. The weight of the gun against his head, the only thing I felt. Every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to snap.

“This won’t end well for you, brother.” Massimo’s voice was calm, casual.

His smirk deepened, and my stomach twisted with the need to pull the trigger.

“You won’t win this, Rafe. Not unless you are on my side.”

I pressed the gun harder into his skull, my hands shaking and my jaw aching from how hard I gritted my teeth. Every second that passed made it harder not to pull the damn trigger and end it.

But Massimo’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and cruel. “Just like in the desert, isn’t it?”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I blinked, trying to focus, but the edges of my vision blurred.

The desert. The heat. The mother and son lying on the sandy floor of their home. Dead. Because I pulled the trigger. Because it was kill or be killed.

“No,” I muttered, but the memories clawed at me, pulling me under.

“You remember,” Massimo whispered, his breath hot against my face. “You were weak then too.”

The desert stretched out before me as I stepped out of that hut, the heat burning my skin, the smell of blood and gunpowder thick in the air. The bodies of the mother and her child behind me, lifeless, eyes open and staring.

I couldn’t save them.

My orders had been clear.

I didn’t want to shoot. But I did. Both of them. First the kid when he’d pulled a pistol, then the grieving mother who ripped it from his dead hand and turned it on me.

“You’ll fail again,” Massimo’s voice said, his words like nails digging into my skull. “Like you always do. Mamà called it back then, and you cowered in the corner. You won’t save yourself now. Or anyone else.”

I pressed the gun harder, but my vision swam, and the desert swallowed me whole, but belladonna flowers spiraled around the outsides of the image. The mother’s hand was outstretched, frozen in death. Adelina’s Nonna Petra reaching for me in the corner where I’d curled into a ball, her telling me to leave. The boy’s innocent face on the floor, so close, his eyes empty, accusing.

“I failed,” I whispered, the gun trembling in my grip. “I failed. I’ve always f-failed.”

Sas’s voice broke through the fog, faint and distant. “Rafe! Snap out of it!”

But I was already gone. My hand loosened on the gun, and I slipped further into the desert, further into the past, into that corner of Petra’s dining room where she told me how I was nothing. A bastard. Darkness. Sand. Blood.

No saving them.

No saving me.

And I wasn’t sure I could save anyone now.

My heart pounded, the beat echoing in my skull like a war drum, the heat of the desert searing into my bones. My fingers twitched on the trigger, the weight of it unbearable. My chest tightened, throat closed. Breath wouldn’t come. I couldn’t?—

“You’re reliving it, aren’t you?” Massimo’s voice was soft now, almost mocking. “That moment you failed.”

The faces blurred together—the mother, the son, Massimo, Petra. All the same. All twisting and writhing.

All dead because of me.

“You will fail again. You’re failing now.”

I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t—

“You’re nothing, Rafe,” Massimo’s voice came again, like a shadow, pulling me deeper into the darkness.

The gun slipped, my fingers loosening. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t hold on. My mind was slipping away, back into that desert, back into that failure.

“Rafe!”

Sas’s voice again.

Then Adelina’s, “Rafe!”

“Rafe!” Graff’s voice joined the mix.

I’d brought him down, but I shouldn’t have. He was too good for this.

A hand landed on my arm. Strong, warm, sure, tattooed.

My people. All of them.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

I was already gone.