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Again. Again. Again.
Until there's no possibility he'll ever rise again. Until the threat he poses is permanently eliminated.
Until Ava and our child are safe.
The door sounds like it might give in to the assault of the Fiori’s men. Voices fill the warehouse, shouting orders, positions, threats. But they're too late.
Carlo Fiori lies still beneath me, eyes fixed on the warehouse ceiling, seeing nothing. The Monster of Chicago has lived up to his name.
I try to push myself up, to turn toward Ava, to protect her from whatever comes next, but my body refuses to obey. The darkness at the edge of my vision rushes in like a tide, unstoppable now that my task is complete.
"Ava," I whisper, though I'm not sure if the sound actually leaves my lips. "I'm sorry. So sorry."
For getting her involved in this life. For forcing her into this marriage. For failing to protect her properly.
For everything.
The last thing I see before consciousness leaves me is her face, hovering above mine. Blood-streaked and bruised, but alive. Beautiful. Mine.
Then there's nothing but darkness, swallowing me whole.
The taste of blood fills my mouth, metallic and warm. Something wet trickles down my face—sweat or blood, I can't tell anymore. Every breath feels like fire, each rib a separate torment. My head throbs in time with my heartbeat, a bass drum of pain that makes thinking nearly impossible.
But still, Ava's voice reaches me through the encroaching darkness.
"Stefano! Stay with me!"
I try to respond, to reassure her, but my lips won't form the words. My body feels impossibly heavy, anchored to the concrete by exhaustion and injury. The warehouse spins around me, walls and ceiling trading places in a nauseating carousel.
Footsteps thunder toward the room we are in—Fiori soldiers come to avenge their fallen bosses. Time has run out.
With tremendous effort, I manage to turn my head toward the sound, placing myself between the approaching threat and Ava. One last protection, futile as it may be.
But it doesn’t work at all. My eyes close and the darkness claims me harshly.
I am so sorry, my Ava.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Ava
I can't breathe.Can't think. Can barely move.
Stefano lies motionless on the concrete floor, blood pooling beneath him in an ever-widening circle. So much blood. Too much blood.
His face is deathly pale beneath the bruises and cuts, his chest barely rising with each shallow breath.
"Stefano," I whisper, my voice breaking. My hands hover over him, afraid to touch, afraid to make things worse. "Please. Stay with me."
He doesn't respond. Doesn't move. Just lies there, broken and still, while chaos erupts around us.
The warehouse door splinters as the Fiori men continue their assault. We have minutes, maybe seconds, before they break through. I need to do something. Need to get help. Need to save him.
My phone. Where is my phone?
I pat my pockets frantically, wincing at the pain that shoots through my face where Carlo's fist connected. My fingers close around the familiar shape, pulling it out with trembling hands. The screen is cracked, spiderwebbed with fractures that make the display difficult to read.
Please work. Please, please work.