My face is on fire as the remaining men in the dining room each take a swing at me. Blood and saliva drip from my swollen lip, and I can’t see out of my left eye. My stomach is queasy from the taste of blood. I think I’ve swallowed a tooth.
“Oh, look at that, Superman’s awake,” one of them says.
“Look at the poor bastard. Didn’t expect this, did ya, kid?” They laugh as another one hits me again.
I’m a toy to them. Nothing more than something they can play around with and then toss in the trash when they’re done. Just the way they treated Emma. I hate them all.
“All right, let the kid breathe.” From what I can tell, he’s the only man here without any blood on his hands. None other than Caporegime Michael Bello. “He’s got questions to answer.”
“What the hell are you doing here, kid?” an older man asks. He was the last one to take a swing at me before Bello stopped him, and he’s wiping my blood off his hands with a cloth napkin.
Summoning all of my courage, I scowl at him as best I can. Which results in a roar of laughter from the room.
Bello smiles. “You know, we’ve heard stories about the man in the suit. Fuse, as people have been calling you. But what we just couldn’t figure out was what the hell you wanted.”
He circles the room as the four other men stand threateningly around me.
I need to think. How the hell am I going to get out of here? I can’t contact Alex—if she’s even there—because my mask is lying on the floor at one of the men’s feet.
“It’s funny, too,” Bello continues, “because if you would’ve told me back at Rizzo’s dinner party that the scrawny kid asking about the newest shiny building in the city was Fuse, I would’ve laughed in your face. In fact, that’s just what I did when Sammy took off your mask.” He addresses the men, “Isn’t that right?”
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
He kneels down in front of me. “So tell me, what made you want to put on some tights and prance around my neighborhood after dark?”
“You hurt a friend of mine.” I must’ve bitten my tongue because my words come out thick.
Bello smiles. “Ah, I see. Lover’s revenge.” He steps back and studies me. “Wait a minute, you’re talking about that Landry girl, aren’t you?”
If I could shoot electricity through my eyes, I would right now. He knew her name, and yet he still isn’t losing any sleep for putting an innocent woman in the hospital.
“You broke her,” I finally say.
Shrugging, the capo says, “Well, her injuries were a little more permanent than what I thought would happen, but they still did the trick. And we thought your meeting with the boss straightened you out. But it turns out you were just playing dress-up!”
The men laugh again, and I struggle to break free of the zip ties holding me to the chair.
“You had no right to touch her!”
“Oh, you really are clueless, aren’t you? We run this city. There isn’t a thing that goes on around here that we don’t know about. Including your friend.”
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
He smirks as he pulls out his cell phone. “We control her fate.”
“What are you doing? Who are you calling?”
Bello holds up his finger to me. “Clip her,” he says into the phone. He scrunches up his face. “I’ll straighten it out with him, just do what you’re told.”
Everyone looks dismayed, and I try to tell myself that he didn’t just say what I think he said.
“I had a doctor friend of mine personally take on your friend Emma’s case.” He holds the phone out to my ear. “Why don’t you check in on how she’s doing?”
No. This can’t be happening. She’s not—
Sammy puts a finger to his lips and I fight tears.
It’s quiet, and then a monitor shrieks in the background. I hear Theresa call for a doctor.
“Oh my God, Emma!” she cries.
“Ma’am, please step back,” someone else says.
“Heart rate’s dropping,” another says.
I turn my head, but Bello pushes the phone against my ear as I listen to the doctors struggling to revive her. I know what’s coming. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
When the long beep of the monitor indicates Emma’s heart has stopped beating, Bello pulls the phone away from me.
“I told you. We control everything.”
My body shakes with remorse, anger, sadness, and a million other emotions. My chest aches, and the taunts from the room seem like distant voices as the world slows.
Just like that, Emma is gone. Forever erased from this world. To the man who called for her death, her life didn’t matter.
Like waking from a dream, the jeers and laughter grow louder. I shoot my power out of the palms of my hands, striking the floor as I try to pull away from my restraints.
It’s no use. The most I’m doing is scuffing the floor. Yet I catch everyone’s attention.
“Oh, and Fuse goes wild!” Bello grabs my face tightly in his hand. “I could use you to power my next building—since you seem to be so interested in where this city is going.”
Glass shatters and my chair tips to its side. Bello cowers until he disappears out of my sight.
I keep my head low to the ground as gunshots fill the room, sending shards of glass across the floor of the restaurant. I hear two thumps behind me. Only one man is in my line of vision. The fourth must’ve run with Bello.
With the sound of gunshots only a ring in my ears, I look up and see Dean hovering over me. He slips a knife between my wrists, cutting the zip ties and finally freeing me.
“How did you—”
He hands me my mask and offers his hand. “Come on, we’re not done.”
Slipping it back on, I hear Alex’s voice in my ear. “ . . . please answer me.”
“I’m here,” I say as I get to my feet. I sway a little.
“You okay?” Dean asks, pushing at the swinging door to the kitchen and peeking inside. I notice a handful of zip ties tucked in his back pocket.
I force myself to press on despite the throbbing in my head. This is it. The moment I’ve been working toward. I can’t let Bello slip through my fingers.
“I’ll be fine,” I say and follow Dean through the kitchen and out the back door.
“Are you okay?” Alex asks. “What’s going on?”
“Not now.”
I vault over the fence behind the restaurant, trailing Dean. Bello and his bodyguard are farther up the alley in the back of the buildings. I extend my arm out, sending shockwaves toward Bello and his bodyguard. Success.
Dean sprints to the guard and restrains him while I dive onto Bello, screaming at him with each punch.
“You’re! A! Fucking! Murderer!”
“Hey, take it easy,” Dean warns as he struggles to keep the guard still.
We hear men’s voices coming from the restaurant, and Dean, who has finally managed to tie up the guard, pulls me back behind a dumpster. There’s fifty feet between us and the street entrance.
The gunshots start again. Dean shields himself and fires back at them, keeping them at bay. I lean back against the dumpster, my head pounding worse than ever between the noise and the running. Meanwhile, Bello is curled up in himself as he crawls to his own safety.
“I already called the police,” Alex says.
Pressing the com against my ear, I say, “What if we don’t get away from here in time?”
“I thought you were dead!” she yells in my ear.
Dean turns back beside me, his chest heaving.
“Alex called the cops,” I tell him. “We need to keep these guys busy until they get here.”
“What’s our exit plan?” he asks, casting another look around the dumpster.
I point to the alleyway. “I think it’s our best shot.”
He eyes it for a moment and then nods. “Okay. I don’t know how much ammo I have left, so you might have to take over. You good with that?”
Before I answer, the gunshots stop. The sirens seem to be almost on top of us now. Time to move.
“Let’s go,” I mutter to Dean. Peeking my head over the dumpster, I see that the four men are almost on top of us. As they raise their guns to fire, I send bolts of lightning their way. They all duck long enough for us to sprint down the alleyway and around the corner. Shots fire onto the street, but they don’t follow us. A police car pulls up moments after we run out of there.
Dean’s bike isn’t far, which I’m thankful for. I’m lightheaded from all the running, but I focus on getting to the hospital.
The sight of Emma’s family sobbing immediately brings me to tears. But it’s my swollen face that draws their attention.
“Ethan, what happened?” Theresa asks.
I shake my head and let the tears flow. Theresa wraps an arm around me and the four of us cry, dumbfounded.
“I don’t get it,” she says. “I was sitting right there! Everything was fine. The doctor said she was doing well and then . . . ”
“I should’ve been here,” I say. I know I couldn’t have been by her side when it happened, but I still wish I had been. At the very least, for Theresa’s sake. I can’t imagine how terrifying that must’ve been.
“Ethan, don’t,” Mr. Landry says. “We all wish—things should’ve been different.”
Even as I begin to mourn Emma with her family, it doesn’t quite seem real. As morbid as it sounds, I haven’t even seen her body. The hospital staff moved the Landrys down to a private bereavement room where time seems to stand still.
I lose myself in my sadness, forgetting how I ache or the hell I went through earlier this evening. None of it matters anymore. This was all for her, and she’s the one I lost in the end. If I hadn’t gone after Bello, she would still be alive. Knowing I provoked this tragedy is a brand new kind of hell.
Mrs. Landry’s gentle hand cradles my face. “We should get this checked out.”
“I will,” I tell her.
We linger for a long time, none of us really ready to leave and face the world, yet all of us knowing that we should. Theresa offers to have us all over at her place, but I pass.
I know they lost a daughter and a sister, but none of them had the chance to save her. I did. I tried. And I messed it up. Their pain is on me. I can’t grieve with them and pretend like I’m one of them. I can barely look the Landry’s in the eyes knowing I’m partly to blame for their suffering.
As I walk through the lobby, Frank Lloyd’s picture on the TV catches my eye.
“City councilman Frank Lloyd has been removed from Olympia City Council after evidence indicates he had dealings with a prominent crime family,” the news reporter states.
The city’s mayor, Eugene Banks, is shown at a press conference. “We were presented with a thorough file of everything he’s done in the last four years that’s been questionable, and it all lines up with instances involving organized crime.”
The reporter returns. “The investigation is now in the hands of the Olympia Police Department, however Mayor Banks says Lloyd’s removal from the council is necessary with the amount of evidence against him. Lloyd’s term would have expired with the next election. No word yet on who will fill in as his replacement.”
I turn to leave, but the next story stops me. Michael Bello’s bruised face is displayed on the screen. His mugshot.
“The man behind some of the city’s biggest success stories as of late, including the Lakeside Village condos and the redevelopment of Ashland Pier, has been arrested for suspicion of murder. City police detective Tucker Cross and his crew responded to a 911 report of shooters at the Little Italy Food Company in Broadway’s Little Italy tonight. Police at the scene say there are at least three dead. No further details are known at this time.”
That smug bastard. He finally got what was coming for him.
The apartment is silent. My phone is still in my bag on the roof across from the restaurant. The place is probably crawling with police officers and reporters by now. If they find it, I’ll be brought in, questioned, maybe even arrested myself. Hopefully they found the cook and the waitress in the freezer.
The ride from the hospital back home seems to take forever. I’m fighting back tears with everything I have. I’m not about to cry in front of the cab driver. He’s already watching me with a wary eye because of my face. I stumble through the front door and—
There’s movement in the shadows to my right and my heart races. It’s someone from the Martelli family. They must know I was the one there tonight. They’re pissed. I’m dead.
He moves from the shadows and the light catches his face enough to reveal it’s Dean. I’m not even mad at him right now. I’m just relieved I’m not going to meet Emma’s fate. I keep trying to convince myself that she’s really gone, but I just can’t quite grasp it.
“I got your bag,” he says. “A lot of people have been calling you.”
I wipe my nose, suddenly self-conscious. Dean never knew Emma. How can I expect him to be sad about it?
“How are you?”
All I can manage is a shrug.
He stands there awkwardly, my bag still in his hand. “I can leave if you want. I just thought it was probably best if you weren’t alone. But maybe you should call your brother or—”
“It’s fine,” I say in a thick voice. “You can stay.”
He nods and takes a seat beside me. “I’m sorry for not being honest with you right from the start. I should have told you a million different times. I wanted to, but I—”
“It’s fine.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, taking extra care around my left eye.
“It’s not. But believe me when I say that that’s not who I am. I might’ve been born a Martelli, but I’m not a part of the family. Everything I told you about them breaks omertà.”
It’s the last thing I want to think about right now. At this moment, I’m just glad he’s here. If Cale or Myra were here, they’d be cooing and telling me that everything will be all right and Emma’s in a better place. Dean just lets me grieve.
We sit quietly for a long while. My phone buzzes a few times. Calls from my family, Emma’s family, our friends. I can hardly think right now, let alone talk to anyone.
“How?” Dean finally asks, breaking the silence.
My eyes remain locked on the hardwood. “Bello called someone at the hospital, gave the word, and had her killed. He had me listen to the whole thing.”
“Oh, Ethan.” He pulls me into an awkward hug and I lean into it, wrapping my arms around him tightly as the tears start to flow again.
“She would’ve been fine,” I croak by his ear.
He rubs my back and squeezes me. “You did everything you could.”
“I messed it up.”
Pulling me away from him, he holds my face in his hands. Our eyes meet and my heart beats a little faster. It all seems so surreal—Emma’s death, my role in it, this moment.
Which is why I don’t react when I feel him place his lips on mine.
Download the second book in the series, Omertà, and let the fight continue!