Page 68 of Damaged & Deadly
However, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to locate the clubhouse. Dante mentioned that the Antonellis didn’t concern themselves with the various gangs running Black Creek. Until recently, Giovanni didn’t even know about the Rejects, and it was Dante and Enzo that organized the recon on them. Dante is confident that his men will remain loyal to him and won’t easily give up any information to Giovanni. But I’m not so trusting, and I’m definitely not going to lay my hopes on Antonelli men. The way I see it, Dante and Enzo are the exceptions, and just like them, everyone else will have to prove to me that they aren’t on Giovanni’s side.
Still,if—and it’s a big if—Dante is right, then it will take his father a few days to gather the necessary intel on the Rejects and devise a plan. However, with every passing day, that window shrinks, and I can feel it in my gut. Giovanni is coming.
There’s a moment of silence that occurs right before the breaking of the battle thunder, where the world slows to a crawl as if every atom is standing in wait, ready to witness who will perish and who will emerge victorious. That silence falls over me like a veil every time I flick that switch into Reaper mode. Especially as I drive through the city streets, a light drizzle spraying drops of rain across my visor and leaving a sheen of water on my leather jacket, I feel it even more. It’s as though my ears pop, the world around me going deathly silent.
A loudboomcracks through the silence as my bike veers unsteadily across the road. I try to get it under control as something whizzes past my ear, but before I can, I’m thrown from the bike, the world spinning as I’m tossed through the air.
I hit the ground with a loudoomph, pain lancing along my left side as stars dance across my vision. My helmet cracks against the concrete, but I can’t process any of it as I’m flung across the unrelenting surface. My entire body screams in pain, and I swear I can feel my leather clothes being ripped to shreds with every roll.
I’m not sure if I pass out or what, but eventually I realize I’ve stopped moving. However, my brain is foggy and everything fucking hurts. I try to force my eyes open, but even that hurts, and I quickly give up. Instead, I take a moment to reach out with my mind, attempting to catalog my injuries. I think my fingers and toes twitch, and although it hurts, I can breathe, but I can’t determine much more than that. What the hell happened? My tire blew out, or more specifically,somethingblew my tire out.
Knowing I can’t lie here like a prized target, I wrestle my eyelids open, groaning as a white, hot pain flashes across my head and black dots obscure my vision, my body threatening to pass out.Nope. Definitely can’t do that.
Blinking back the pain, I try to focus on my surroundings. It seems I’ve rolled into the mouth of an alleyway. There doesn’t appear to be anyone around, and a small groan escapes my lips when I spot my bike lying in the middle of the road, plastic, and God knows what else littering the ground around it.
Blocking out the destruction of my baby, I try to push myself into a sitting position, but before I can, I hear footsteps rushing toward me.Please, let it be someone coming to help.
I gasp as I’m roughly dragged to my feet, biting my lip against the cry of pain as my entire body feels like it’s been set on fire. Someone yanks on my helmet, feeling like the muscles in my neck are being stretched and torn as it’s pulled over my head. “Gotcha,” some guy snarls, shoving me against the wall. I have to blink several times before the world slowly comes into focus, and I find an older-looking guy dressed in the standard Antonelli dress code of a fancy-as-fuck suit with a cocky smirk on his face standing over me. “Giovanni’s going to be really pleased to see you.”
I grunt in response while I subtly flex my fingers. I’m weak as hell, but I’m not out yet. Confident that I can make a fist, I distract him while slowly reaching for the sheath strapped to my thigh, sending up a silent prayer of thanks when I find my blade still tucked within it.
Gathering every ounce of strength I can muster, I raise my arm, driving the blade deep into the asshole's neck. His eyes widen in shock before I wrench it out, sending blood spurting from the wound, drenching us both.
I fall to the ground, too weak to hold myself up when he lets me go, his hand flying to put pressure on the gaping hole in his neck. Not that it will do him much good. From my slumped position, I watch as his face drains of color before he drops to his knees, gurgling and gasping until he falls still, staring unblinkingly at me.
On my hands and knees, I crawl deeper into the alley, knowing I need to escape before any more Antonelli assholes show up and I become a dead girl walking. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I’m not surprised to find it smashed to pieces, although my heart still sinks when I see the cracks across the black screen. I guess I’m on my own.
No problem. It’s not like I’m half unconscious, badly injured, and being hunted by suit-wearing psychopaths. I’ve totally got this.
Breathing heavily, sweat coats my skin, dripping from my nose when I reach a steel door halfway down the alley. My whole body trembles, my hand shaking so bad I can hardly get the door open. I’m in shock, functioning purely on adrenaline—adrenaline that is quickly burning out. Stumbling inside, I do a half-assed job of wedging the door shut before sinking to the floor again.
The world around me shrinks, darkness pressing in until nothing exists except the sound of my labored breaths, and the last thought I have as the darkness pulls me under is that this might be the end of the line for me.
Luc.
Cain.
Oliver.
Dante.
Enzo.
Jon and the kids.
The Rejects.
I’m never going to see any of them again.
Epilogue
“Where the hell is she?!” I roar, sending the front door smashing into the wall. Not that I give a shit. I’ll tear this house apart if I have to. I toldmia vitaI’d come for her if she didn’t come to me first. I was patient. I gave her time. But now I’m done waiting.
She told Enzo she was coming, but her phone has been going straight to voicemail for the last few hours, so I decided to come get her myself.
With their weapons aimed, ready to shoot, Cain and Oliver rush into the hall. “What the fuck?!” Cain snarls, looking just as angry as I am. “Get the fuck out!”
“Where is she?” I repeat, my voice calm and deadly. I swear to god, I’ll rip their heads from their bodies and relish in the pop as their muscles and tendons separate if I don’t see my wife in the next two seconds.