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Satisfaction pumps my blood as he drops into the upholstered chair, bleeding on the antique piece of furniture.

“You won’t get away with this,” he grunts, holding onto his injured arm.

I know, but it’s irrelevant. He stole my future from me.

“I might go down, but I am taking you with me.”

I’ve ignored my bleeding wound, pulsing in my side. I don’t know how bad it is, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that I am injured. That’s why I sat down. I’ll make him bleed even worse.

I place my boots on his precious mahogany antique table in an obvious display of rebellion. His features tighten with pure fury.

I wave my hand in the air in a gesture that tells him I am losing my patience with him for dragging out time. “Confess, Augustus.”

“What—”

I shoot him in the other arm before lowering the gun and sighing as if he’s a disobedient child who I have given many chances to tell the truth.

“You’re demented,” he hisses, the color draining from his face.

I look him straight in the eyes while I aim and hit his knee.

He bends over, trying to stop the blood leaking from his wounds. A crimson stream trickles through his hands, pooling at his feet. He curses and cries. The sounds play in my ears a symphony of delayed justice.

“Confess, Augustus.”

He gnashes his teeth. “I should have left you to die in that car explosion.”

I show him the gun again, pointing itat his other knee. He starts recounting the entire story of how he and Davide, Enzo’s father, wanted to expand, so they made a secret deal. While he bleeds and tells me the story, I lean back, listening to the sordid tale of betrayal and deception while applying pressure to my wound.

“When he backed out, I waited and tipped off Igor to exact revenge. I thought to be done with them both once and for all.”

I’ve heard enough, so I push myself up, raise the gun and aim for his forehead. Before he can say anything, I pull the trigger. The bullet wheezes through the air, hitting him square in the middle of his forehead. At the impact, his head flies back, watching me with open and unblinking eyes. The hole instantly bleeds and stripes of scarlet run down his face.

An eerie silence follows.

The gun slips from my hand, clanking to the ground, but the sharp sound fails to pull me out of the trance.

I should feel relieved, but numbness spreads through me, rooting me in place.

This hit should have been the most satisfactory one, yet not even his death settles the debt. He took my life. I took his. But it feels like what I’ve lost can’t be repaid.

Outside the window, I notice the army that is heading my way. Venice will be on lockdown. With the cloak of night and the police rushing to their side, the public will never find out what truly happened here.

I look at his lifeless body one more time before I spit on his corpse.

Inhaling deeply, I open the door, ready to attack and die while fighting my way out, when I come face-to-face with Enzo. Dressed in all black, he exudes danger, looking pissed as hell. He pushes me back inside and locks the room.

I am too shocked to form words. Maybe my blood loss is too severe, and I am imagining things.

“I am so fucking mad at you,” he says and backs me into the next wall, slamming his mouth onto mine.

Surely, I must have died somewhere during the fights. His lips feel like a kiss from heaven.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his intense eyes perusing every inch of me.

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter.” I wave his concern off.

He still checks, cursing under his breath when he locates the wound. He plucks something from his pocket. It’s a gauze, and he wraps it carefully around my belly.