When shit hit the fan, it usually did so in a spectacular fashion. Today had started out according to plan. They had all arrived at the warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Men disappeared into the surrounding buildings and brush, already knowing their positions while a select six would follow Enzo into the warehouse. He usually kept his hands clean of these arms deals, all part of maintaining his facade of an upstanding businessman but this one is different. If all went well, he’d be partnering two families together in business and checking one less enemy off his list. He kept his lack of faith in success to himself. This is his father’s idea. Enzo couldn’t let any of these men know that he’s been fighting his father tooth and nail against this, he needs them confident, on their A game as they step into the lions den.

Much to his surprise, everything had unfolded rather pleasantly. The air is thick with tension and distrust, but negotiations were going rather smoothly. Until his phone started vibrating in his suit pocket. At first, he ignored it. Anyone who would be calling him, knew where he was, what he’s doing. They knew whatever it was, would have to wait. But the irritating device is insistent, vibrating repeatedly until he finally excused himself. Stepping away from the group, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Omar. The man had called and texted at least a dozen times. What in the actual fuck? Of all people to be calling. Unease spread across his skin.

{{“What?!”}} He hisses through clenched teeth when he finally answered the older man’s call. His driver knew better than anyone where Enzo is and why he isn’t to be disturbed. I can’t find her. The blood in his veins ran cold. Omar didn’t need to explain. This she was important enough to warrant the interruption. {{“Fucking find her.”}} He snarled lowly. He didn’t have time for this. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, the mafioso drew on the self control he had spent years cultivating to focus on the task at hand. Rayne couldn’t distract him.

And just like that, everything went to shit.

As he turned, voices began to rise and the tension thickened until you could cut it with a knife. Salvaging the situation went up in flames the moment gunfire filled the air. {{“Fuck.”}} He hissed, immediately reaching for the gun tucked into his waistband. Lifting his weapon, he’s a second too late. Too late to duck behind cover, too late to fire first. The pain didn’t register, not right away at least. Something hit him in the chest with enough force to knock him backwards and force the air from his lungs. Then again. And again. Drawing in a breath is suddenly impossible. When the pain finally does register in his brain, it sends him to the ground. Blood quickly stains his dress shirt, warm and wet and it spills way too fast from the bullet hole. Clutching his chest, he barely registers when someone drags him backwards and out of the line of fire. Someone’s talking to him but he can hardly hear the words over the rush of blood in his ears.

When his vision grows spotty, Enzo knows he’s in trouble. He fucked up. All for the sake of a woman. Everything else fades away. He wouldn’t remember being dragged from the warehouse, he wouldn’t remember the chaos of being rushed to the hospital. All he’d remember is the excruciating pain in his chest, the way he had to fight for what little oxygen he could suck in. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this would change everything. It was the beginning of a war. A new chapter was being written in his blood.

The world is slow to come into focus around him. First, he’s aware that he’s lying on something soft, comfortable, warm. A bed. One that seemed far too comfortable to be a generic hospital bed. The beeping comes next and the sound of his steady pulse pounds in his skull. When he tries to move, his body is stiff and sore, but more than that, a white hot pain sears across his chest if he moves too much. Blinking, his eyes feel like sandpaper as the room slowly comes into view. What he didn’t expect to see is his own room. Groggily, he looks around. He’s hardly aware of anyone in the room until Alessa appears beside him. She scolds him even as she gingerly wraps herself up in his embrace. No matter how much they push each others button, Alessa is still his little sister and he loves her dearly. Wrapping his arms around her is more painful than he anticipates and his body tenses in response. A laugh huffs past his lips before the sound is cut off with a painful grunt. ”You make it sound like I was trying to get shot.” His voice is raspy with lack of use.

For a time, they stay like that. Alessa undoubtedly seeking the comfort and assurance that he’s alive. Enzo revels in still being alive.

Before she breaks the silence, Alessa pulls away and the look on her face is a grave one. Dread creeps up his spine. She recounts the events from the day he was shot to the present. It was Alessa who had him brought here, hiring private physicians and surgeons, tending to his every need with only the best money can buy. Not their father. His absence in that part of the conversation is noted. And it’s far from surprising. Though the current don of the Vincenza family did finally come up, more accurately his behavior. Mismatched eyes stray to the bruise that darkens the side of her face. One she tries to cover up with make up. His eyes flash before they narrow. No one knows their father temper better than him. A tic in his jaw appears. “He did that?” His eyes dart to the bruise she sports.

The bad news doesn’t stop there.

Alessa is practically engaged. His jaws clench. His father has just decided this. He didn’t want to think about what asshat their father is attempting to sell her off to. Arranged marriages aren’t uncommon in their lifestyle, but Enzo has impossibly high standards for the man that would one day marry his sister. Standards that her own father didn’t have. He seethes silently. The first order of business is to look into this man. Enzo wants to know everything about him before the end of the day. If the man needed to have an accident, then the sooner the better.

Unfortunately for him, his sister doesn’t stop there. Rayne. Memories snap into place harder than his father fists. Rayne. Omar had called because she was missing. She went shopping and vanished into thin air. After that, all hell had broken loose in the warehouse. Clarity. It’s a real bitch sometimes. A rock sits heavy in his gut. Alessa found her though. That has his mismatched eyes snapping back to his sister. Rayne had actually returned to the manor. But that’s where things when from bad to fucking worse.

Enzo has always been a man that prided himself on his ability to keep it together, to not let anyone else in the room know what he’s thinking or feeling. There were only a handful of occasions where Enzo lost his cool and it usually results in bodies dropping. His vision turns red and tunnels just in time for his father to make his grand entrance. This would be one of those times.

If looks could kill, Luciano Vincenza would drop where he stood. Alessa takes that as her cue to leave. Standing at the foot of his bed, Enzo doesn’t wither under his father’s disapproving stare. He hasn’t in many years. It reminds him of how his mother had been Luciano’s complete opposite in every way. Where his father is callous and merciless, his mother was kind and patient. She had provided the comforts that Luciano is incapable of providing. It’s times like this that he secretly misses her the most.

But Lorenzo Vincenza steps into the lions den with the confidence that even on his worst days, he can still best Luciano. ”I think you’ve managed to hit a new low.” He drawls. ”And that’s quite impressive.” He sneers. The vein above his father’s temple starts pulse. ”Watch it, Lorenzo.” His father warns. ”Abusing your own daughter before threatening an innocent woman.” Enzo tuts disapprovingly, knowing exactly how to get a rise out of his father. His palms itch to wring the life right out of his father but he knows he’s in no condition take him on. For now. ”Alessa forgets her place.” A hand is waved dismissively. ”And your latest whore is hardly innocent.” Luciano scoffs. The muscle in Enzo’s jaw tics. His anger skyrockets as he sits up. The effort is excruciating and his father sneers the moment he sees it. A weakness. Enzo doesn’t put anything before Luciano, the Don isn’t above murdering his own heir. He’s come close once or twice before. But that was before Enzo turned out bigger, meaner, stronger than his soon to be predecessor.

The very last thing Enzo should be doing, is getting out of bed. But he does. He swallows the grunt of pain as he rises, forcing his weakened body to find its balance. Only then does he approach his father, like a wounded panther, he stalks towards the man, the promise of his murder in his light eyes. To his credit, Luciano doesn’t falter, he only arches a brow at his son. Enzo’s lip curls in disdain for the man as he brazenly grabs the collar of his father’s dress shirt and jerks him closer. ”Since you seem to have forgotten who you raised me to be,” His voice is low. ”Let me remind you.” Without anymore warnings, Enzo lands his fist across his fathers cheekbone, knocking the older man backwards. The sudden movement sucks the air right out of his lungs as pain burns across his chest, making the mafioso stumble a step forward, catching himself on the post of his bed.

”You so much as breathe in either Alessa’s or Raynes direction, I’ll fucking kill you.” His snarls over his ragged breathing. Righting himself, Luciano scrubs a hand over his now bruised cheek, the side of his face immediately swelling. ”No Lorenzo, you see that little bitch again, I’ll give her to my men before I kill her myself.” The two men square off. ”And you’re in condition to protect anyone.” Luciano taunts him, poking the proverbial bear. And Enzo seethes.

Leaving Enzo propped against the post of his bed frame, Luciano leaves. With his hand on the doorknob, he looks over his shoulder at his son. ”You’re sister will pay for your mistakes too.” Then he’s gone, slamming the door behind him.

Alone, Enzo sags, exhaustion immediately crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Alessa appears a moment later, no doubt eavesdropping the entire time. Rushing to his side, she scolds him again, fussing over him being out of bed. She helps him back into bed, his breath coming out in painful heaves. ”Wheres Rayne now?” His question makes her still, telling him that he’s not going to like the answer without saying a word. ”I don’t know.” She admits. Blowing out a breath, Enzo grapples with the new sense of anxiety. ”I need to find her.” The usual demand in his voice is absent. Maybe it’s the sudden exhaustion, the strain he just put his still injured body through. More realistically, it’s the knowledge that his father doesn’t make empty promises. He won’t involved Alessa, he wouldn’t paint an even larger target on her back.

Exit