Page 81
Story: Tormented Oath
And then nothing.
The last image burned into my fading consciousness is Tomasso's back, Tony stumbling beside him, escaping into the warehouse's shadows.
Mission accomplished.
But…not exactly
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Ava
The hotel roomdoor bursts open, making me jump from where I've been pacing. Tomasso stumbles in first, supporting Tony who looks...
My heart stops.
Blood. Bruises. The way he can barely stand. But alive. Breathing.
No Stefano.
"Where is he?" The words come out sharp, desperate. "Tomasso, where is he?"
But I already know. I can read it in the defeat in Tomasso's stance, the way he won't meet my eyes, the tremor in his usually steady hands as he helps Tony to a chair.
"They double-crossed us." His voice is rough, like he's been shouting. "It was never about the club. Never about the routes."
"Tell me." I move closer, tracking details through the panic—the fresh scrapes on Tomasso's knuckles, the tear in his suit jacket, the gun missing from his shoulder holster. "Tell me everything."
Tony makes a sound between a sob and a laugh. "They just wanted him. The whole time. Used me as bait..."
"The exchange seemed legitimate," Tomasso continues, still not meeting my eyes. "They brought Tony out. We verified the paperwork. But when Stefano was about to sign..."
He trails off, and the silence screams with everything he's not saying.
"How many?" My voice comes out steady despite the fear clawing at my throat.
"Too many. They had men hidden everywhere. Professional hit squad mixed with their regular muscle." Finally, he looks at me. "They were never going to let him walk out."
The world tilts dangerously, but I force myself to focus. "And you just left him?"
" We barely made it out. He ordered us to run." Tomasso's hands clench into fists. "Screamed at us to get out while he held them off. I've never...I've never heard him sound like that."
Ice floods my veins as the full picture emerges. This wasn't just a double-cross. This was a carefully planned trap. The Fioris never wanted territory or money.
They wanted Stefano himself.
And now they have him.
"You left him." It’s an accusation this time. "You, his most trusted man, his right hand. You ran."
"He ordered?—"
The crack of my palm against his cheek echoes in the hotel room. Tony makes a startled sound, but I barely hear it over the roaring in my ears.
"He was outnumbered! Fighting for his life! And you just—" Another slap, which he takes without flinching. "You abandoned him!"
"Ava," Tony tries to intervene, but I wave him off.
My hands shake as I step back from Tomasso, mind already racing ahead. Because this anger, while real, isn't productive. It isn't going to save Stefano.
The last image burned into my fading consciousness is Tomasso's back, Tony stumbling beside him, escaping into the warehouse's shadows.
Mission accomplished.
But…not exactly
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Ava
The hotel roomdoor bursts open, making me jump from where I've been pacing. Tomasso stumbles in first, supporting Tony who looks...
My heart stops.
Blood. Bruises. The way he can barely stand. But alive. Breathing.
No Stefano.
"Where is he?" The words come out sharp, desperate. "Tomasso, where is he?"
But I already know. I can read it in the defeat in Tomasso's stance, the way he won't meet my eyes, the tremor in his usually steady hands as he helps Tony to a chair.
"They double-crossed us." His voice is rough, like he's been shouting. "It was never about the club. Never about the routes."
"Tell me." I move closer, tracking details through the panic—the fresh scrapes on Tomasso's knuckles, the tear in his suit jacket, the gun missing from his shoulder holster. "Tell me everything."
Tony makes a sound between a sob and a laugh. "They just wanted him. The whole time. Used me as bait..."
"The exchange seemed legitimate," Tomasso continues, still not meeting my eyes. "They brought Tony out. We verified the paperwork. But when Stefano was about to sign..."
He trails off, and the silence screams with everything he's not saying.
"How many?" My voice comes out steady despite the fear clawing at my throat.
"Too many. They had men hidden everywhere. Professional hit squad mixed with their regular muscle." Finally, he looks at me. "They were never going to let him walk out."
The world tilts dangerously, but I force myself to focus. "And you just left him?"
" We barely made it out. He ordered us to run." Tomasso's hands clench into fists. "Screamed at us to get out while he held them off. I've never...I've never heard him sound like that."
Ice floods my veins as the full picture emerges. This wasn't just a double-cross. This was a carefully planned trap. The Fioris never wanted territory or money.
They wanted Stefano himself.
And now they have him.
"You left him." It’s an accusation this time. "You, his most trusted man, his right hand. You ran."
"He ordered?—"
The crack of my palm against his cheek echoes in the hotel room. Tony makes a startled sound, but I barely hear it over the roaring in my ears.
"He was outnumbered! Fighting for his life! And you just—" Another slap, which he takes without flinching. "You abandoned him!"
"Ava," Tony tries to intervene, but I wave him off.
My hands shake as I step back from Tomasso, mind already racing ahead. Because this anger, while real, isn't productive. It isn't going to save Stefano.
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