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Chapter twenty-eight

Alessa

T ime seems to slow as I register the fine tremor in Raffy’s hand, the wild desperation in his eyes. This isn’t calculated violence—this is a cornered animal lashing out.

Dominic takes a side step, blocking Raffy and pressing himself firmly in front of me, his body acting as a shield as he continues to block Raffy’s line of sight. The gesture—so instinctive, so protective—makes my throat tighten with emotion. For all his violence, for all his darkness, Dominic would put himself between me and death without hesitation.

“Step aside, Dominic.”

“Over my dead body.”

The conviction in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no hesitation, no calculation—just raw protection. And in that moment, something shifts inside me, a realization that terrifies me more than the gun— I would do the same for him.

Raffy scoffs, shaking his head as he takes a step towards us, closing the distance between them before cocking his gun and redirecting it to Dominic’s forehead. Three more guns cock, and I don’t need to turn my head to see that it’s Paolo, Fabio and Vincenzo.

My blood runs cold, my body locking up like stone as I take in the sight before me. Every instinct screams to shove Dominic aside, to step in front of him, shielding him with my own body. I don’t care if it means staring death in the face—I won’t let him fall for me. Not like this. Not now.

The Commission may not see each other eye to eye, but they’re loyal to their own. And although Dominic isn’t yet officially one of them, they’d cease to function without him. They’d be like a table with a missing leg.

“Put the gun down, Raffy,” Paolo warns. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t I?” Raffy challenges. “Because I want Alessa to understand that you’re all monsters! And me? I’m the salvation the Cosa Nostra needs. The redemption Isabella Russo would have wanted! I will reform the Commission and make it a place where men like you, Paolo, wouldn’t be seated as fucking head.”

I study Raffy’s face—the way his eyes dart nervously, the sheen of sweat on his brow, the slight tremor in his hands. Behind the bravado and threats, I see something I recognize all too well— a desperate need to belong, to matter, to carry on a legacy that was never meant for him. For a fleeting moment, I feel a twisted connection—we’re both shadows of Isabella Russo, both trying to carry her torch in our own ways.

“Oh, yeah?” Vincenzo chimes. “If you kill us, what then? Do you think our families are going to allow you to reign over them? You’re a nobody, Raffy. And something tells me that you haven’t thought this plan through.”

I want to tell Vincenzo that he probably shouldn’t be antagonizing the man especially when Dominic and I are at gunpoint. And from the looks of it, the overly confident mask he has on is slowly falling. As his upper lip quivers, his eyes twitch, and beads of sweat gleam down the sides of his face.

Raffy snarls like a rabid dog, his head snapping in my direction before he swings the butt of his gun, aiming to strike Dominic. Dominic sidesteps just in time, the swing missing him by a hair. But in that split second, Raffy shifts his focus, seizing the opportunity to lunge past Dominic. His hand clamps around my arm like a vice, yanking me toward him before I can even react.

The world spins as I’m jerked forward. His palm is hot against my skin, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. The scent of his cologne—expensive but overpowering—fills my nostrils, making me gag. This close, I can see the fine network of broken capillaries in his eyes, the result of too much liquor and too little sleep.

Dominic freezes for half a heartbeat, his breath turning sharp as he processes the scene. Then he snaps, his fury igniting like gasoline on fire. In one swift, feral motion, he lunges, grabbing Raffy by the throat with an iron grip, his fingers digging in with a vengeance. The sheer force of it sends Raffy stumbling back, dragging me with him, his unyielding grip on my arm twisting painfully.

Despite Raffy’s hold on me, Dominic keeps himself firmly positioned between us, his broad frame a shield. The awkward angle strains my arm further, the pain sharp and unforgiving, but Dominic doesn’t waver. His other hand rises, and with lethal precision, he presses the barrel of his gun against Raffy’s forehead.

The look in his eyes chills me to the bone—this isn’t the Dominic who whispered sweet nothings against my skin in the dark, who traced my curves with reverent fingers, who looked at me like I was something precious. This is Dominic the enforcer, the killer, the man who wears death like a second skin. And yet, even in his darkest moment, he’s protecting me. The contradiction makes my head spin.

Raffy’s grip on my arm is ironclad, his fingers digging into my flesh with bruising intent. I already know the imprint of his hand will linger long after he lets go—if he lets go, a dark reminder of his audacity.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Raffy, ever the defiant bastard, tightens his grip, twisting my arm with a cruel force that sends a sharp bolt of pain shooting through my shoulder. I can’t suppress the wince that escapes me.

The scrape of chairs against stone signals movement, and I see from the corner of my eye that the three men rise from the table, their guns drawn and trained on Raffy. His eyes dart toward them in a calculated side glance before snapping back to Dominic, an unsettling smirk playing at his lips.

Then, as if this chaos wasn’t enough, Raffy whistles.

“Take another step and see what happens,” he challenges.

The men freeze, their eyes darting surveying the area for any sign of danger. But the thick lattice roof covered with white bougainvillea obscures the view above, and the tinted windows of the house offer no glimpse of what might be lurking inside.

My mind races with the possibilities, each one worse than the last. Raffy’s threat isn’t hollow—it’s a loaded gun aimed at all of us. Disobedience feels like walking on thin ice, and beneath it lies an abyss of unfathomable depth, ready to swallow us whole the moment we slip.

I stay as still as possible, my breaths shallow, and Dominic remains a stone wall between Raffy and me. My free hand moves with care, snaking around to press against his back, a silent plea for him to steady himself.

I’m grounding him, reminding him to take a breath, to assess the situation. To think. Because if Dominic, with his anger clouding his judgment, pulls that trigger, there’s no turning back.

“Now, Dominic,” Raffy sings with a smile. “Put the gun down and nobody gets hurt.”

Dominic doesn’t say anything, instead, a metallic click of the hammer being cocked rings through the air like a death knell. It’s a promise, I realize. That if Raffy doesn’t let me go, the only person who’s going to get hurt is Raffy himself.

“You think I’m bluffing?”

On cue, something zips past my ear like a razor slicing through the air at blistering speed before I feel the sharp, searing sensation slicing through thin skin. My breath catches, and my heart lurches as the sniper’s bullet grazes me—an inch of raw pain left in its wake.

My scream escapes involuntarily as the sharp sound of shattering glass follows, the bullet embedding itself into the wineglass with a violent crack, sending shards of crystal scattering. My first instinct is to clutch my now wounded ear, but I can’t. Raffy’s grip on my arm is a vise, so crushingly firm that every pull feels like it might snap my bone.

My mind races, piecing together the trajectory of the bullet even as blood trickles warm and sticky down the side of my neck. The rooftop. The chaos around the patio feels muted like I’m locked in some surreal limbo, but the chill coursing through my veins is real enough. This wasn’t just a warning shot.

The hot wetness of blood trickling down my neck contrasts sharply with the cold fear flooding my system. The coppery smell fills my nostrils, bringing unwanted memories of that night in the car—my mother’s blood on my hands, on my face, in my hair. The same metallic scent, the same gut-wrenching panic.

Dominic whirls to me, worry painting his features, pain filling his eyes, and undeniable fury oozing from his pores. He reaches a hand on my ear, his lips twist at the sight. His fingers brush the lobe of my ear as he tucks a loose strand of hair, careful not to touch the wound.

“I’m okay,” I whisper under my breath as his eyes meet mine. And despite all the waves of chaos running through his mind, he calms. Something passes between us in that locked gaze—a moment of connection deeper than words could express. In the midst of this madness, we’re each other’s anchor.

But then Dominic’s focus falters, his piercing gaze slipping away from mine, replaced by a haunting stillness. His attention drifts to something behind me. His eyes widen, panic flickering like a storm in their depths, and a raw, unbridled terror etches itself onto his face. Before I can even react, he snaps, turning to Raffy with a guttural, feral snarl, the kind of sound that belongs to a caged predator driven past its breaking point. Desperation seeps from every rigid line of his body as if whatever he’s seen has stripped away all reason, leaving only primal fury in its wake.

That’s when I see it—the faint, ominous glow of red laser beams darting across the brunch table, like deadly fireflies marking their prey. One lands squarely on Fabio’s head, unwavering. Another targets Vincenzo, steady as death. Two settle on Paolo, one centered on his forehead, the other cruelly poised over his chest. My breath hitches as I shift my gaze and spot the unmistakable glow on the back of Dominic’s head. And though I can’t see it, the prickle at the base of my skull confirms it—there’s one on me, too.

The red dots transform the elegant brunch setting into something out of a nightmare—proof that death is hanging over all of us, waiting for the signal to strike. My mother’s words echo in my mind— ‘Death doesn’t announce itself, Alessa. It waits until you’re looking the other way.’ I never fully understood what she meant until now, with those silent red promises hovering over us all.

“If you think I’m bluffing, pull the trigger. I dare you,” Raffy challenges. “I’m not going to ask again. Step aside. Otherwise, you’re going to see her brain splattered on the asphalt.”

Dominic doesn’t move one bit. He’s a wall of protection between me and death itself.

My heart swells with a confusing mixture of emotions—gratitude, fear, admiration, and something deeper I refuse to name. This man—this dangerous, violent man—would die before letting anyone harm me. The realization is as terrifying as it is exhilarating.

Raffy points his gun skyward, and without warning, the deafening crack of a gunshot splits the air, shattering the serene morning beneath the patio roof. The sharp report bounces off the stone walls of the courtyard, echoing into the open space like a thunderclap. Plates rattle against the table as Dominic’s shoulders tense, his body instinctively shifting even closer to me, as though bracing for what might come next.

The soft rustle of the bougainvillea’s petals, so peaceful before, is now a stark contrast to the collective inhale of panic that fills the air. A faint wisp of smoke curls from the barrel of Raffy’s gun as he lowers it slowly, his unhinged grin cutting through the rising tension.

My ears ring from the blast, the high-pitched whine drowning out everything but my own thundering heartbeat. For a moment, I’m back in that car with my mother, the world reduced to crashing glass and screaming metal as we careened off the road. I blink hard, forcing myself back to the present. I can’t afford to lose myself in memories now.

“Son,” Fabio calls, unmoving. “I think you need to step aside.”

“No.”

“Listen to Fabio, friend.”

“He’s not going to go very far,” Fabio continues. “You just need to—“

“I said, no, Fabio,” Dominic hisses against gritted teeth and it’s sickening to hear the sound of hopelessness and defiance in his voice. “This isn’t about work for me anymore. This is my life. And if something happens to her—“

His words hang in the air, unfinished but clear as day. This isn’t just another job to him—I’m not just another assignment.

I mean something to him, something worth risking everything for.

The thought fills me with a strange warmth that radiates outward from my chest.

“You think I’m going to hurt my own family?”

“You bomb that fucking church, you jackass,” Dominic reminds. Bile rises from my throat as the image of what happened that morning flashes in my mind. The screams, the heat, the bodies—children’s bodies—broken and bloody among the rubble. “And you’re aware that she was inside.”

“Did she die? No. I needed to make a point. I needed you to understand what I’m capable of, and what lengths I can go to get what I need. And right now, I need Alessa.”

I don’t know why he needs me to reform the Commission. The role I’m going to play—the role he’s going to play—but I know it’s stupid. And I’m not going to cooperate one bit for whatever cause this sick man believes in.

I study Raffy’s face—the unhinged gleam in his eyes, the arrogant set of his jaw. But beneath the madness, I see something familiar, something that makes my blood run cold. He has my mother’s chin, her cheekbones, the same stubborn tilt to his head. We share the same blood, and that terrifies me more than his gun ever could.

“So, you’ve got two choices. You can step aside, and I walk out of here with her, no bloodshed. Or you can keep defying me, and she dies. Simple as that. Because in the end, if I don’t get her, nobody does.”

Dominic stays rock solid, not a single muscle shifting, as if the weight of Raffy’s words doesn’t even faze him. I’m about to open my mouth to speak up when Dominic sighs, a sound laced with resignation. With one precise, deliberate move, he steps aside. And in that instant, I’m left face-to-face with Raffy’s devilish grin.

He watches me like a predator watching its prey, his smirk spreading wider as he savors the moment of victory. But my blood runs cold. The second Dominic steps back, Raffy tugs me forward with such force, that it feels like my arm might snap clean off. The sharp pain in my shoulder is nothing compared to the terror rising in my chest.

“That took a lot of convincing,” Raffy chuckles, his voice thick with satisfaction. My head snaps to the side, locking eyes with Dominic. A cold knot tightens in my stomach as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. He’s just standing there, his shoulders rigid, his expression unreadable. He’s not moving, not reacting. It’s like he’s giving me up to Raffy without a second thought. No fight. No protest.

But what can he do, really?

The thought hits me like a sucker punch—Dominic’s hands are tied, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He’s caught in a game he can’t win. And worse, he’s letting me slip through his fingers. The silence between us stretches, suffocating, as I realize just how much worse this could get.

Before I know it, Raffy takes a step forward, his stride full of smug pride as he drags me in the house, and I can already feel the weight of what’s coming. . My pulse spikes and panic surges through me as I trash against his hold, twisting my arm desperately in the hopes of freeing myself. But the bastard is a wall of muscle—twice my size, twice my height—and I’m no match for him. His grip tightens, sending a searing pain through my arm, and my breath hitches. Every step I take feels like it could be my last, every tug at his grip a futile attempt to escape.

“No!” I cry out, ignoring the blinding pain on my shoulder as Raffy continues to manhandle me. I hear Dominic’s taunts to Raffy, promising his vengeance. I can’t comprehend as my heart pulses against my ears. “Let me go!”

“Don’t fight it, Alessa. You’re just going to get yourself—”

Raffy doesn’t even finish his sentence when gunshots erupt inside the house, the deafening sound tearing through the air like a violent storm. He freezes, his hand still clutching my arm, his grip tightening as the sharp crack of each shot echoes in the air. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, every muscle in my body tensing as if bracing for the impact of the next round.

I can hear the screams, the panicked shouts echoing through the walls, and it sends a sickening wave of dread washing over me. My breath quickens, and my chest tightens as terror claws at my insides. I glance up at Raffy, but his face is unreadable, frozen in a mask of tension as he listens. He’s just as shaken as I am, even if he’s trying to hide it.

And then the bodies start to rain. Literally.